The Beautiful Ambiguity of Poetry

Before starting as a college freshman four years ago, I dreaded the thought of reading and writing poetry. In my mind, poetry was this mysterious genre that didn’t have a clear and blatant message. It was up to the reader to determine what the writing meant. I kept thinking, “What is the point? What is the point if the author can’t pick out or notice the moral or the meaning behind the writing when they initially read it?” 

 

I later realized that is the whole point of poetry. It is meant to be beautifully ambiguous, so that its readers can determine what it means for themselves. There are always more than one way to interpret well-written poetry. 

 

So, I thought I would try a little exercise for this post, and I am going to do a short interpretation/analysis of the poem Florist’s Root Cellar by Theodore Roetheke.

I see the theme of this poem as Survival/Struggle because of lines 9-11. 

“Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks.

Nothing would give up life:

Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.” (Lines 9-11).

The speaker of the poem is fascinated in wonder and amazement of the plants and their resilience to continue to fight to survive and grow in the cellar. The cycle of life and death is present in that quote too because I am seeing the speaker looking at the cellar and describing it in a way that a person would view the inside of a grave, while standing over top it, looking down. Looking down on something that represents the end of life and yet, seeing life clinging for survival. The plants are the symbol of life, as we see in lines 2, 10-11. 

“Bulbs broke out of boxes, hunting for chinks in the dark, …

Nothing would give up life:

Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.” (Lines 2, 10-11).

In line 2, the bulbs are searching for light within the darkness. The most beautiful things survive in the most unforgiving circumstances. This poem symbolizes how we are all struggling to survive things that life may try to throw our way, trying to keep those troubles from forcing us to come face to face with our defeat/our own demise.  

Now, someone might read Root Cellar by Theodore Roethke and have a completely different interpretation from mine. But that’s the beautiful ambiguity of poetry. You’ll never know what deeper meaning you are missing until you read between the lines. 

Poem image from: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=23706