A poet of war, struggle, and remembrance…

Inspired by events in his life Odes and Narratives while sending a message Of war, poems are of disappointment One of the greatly lauded poets of autographical detail

Born April 29, 1947, in Bogalusa, Louisiana Originally James Willie Brown Jr. Raised during the beginning of the Civil Rights movement Father was abusive Musical influence

In 1965, after he graduated from Bogalusa’s Central High School, he enlisted in the US Army for a tour of duty in Vietnam Started writing in the military Managing editor of the Southern Cross military newspaper. Earned a Bronze Star

Started writing poetry in 1973 In1977, his first book of poems was published In 1988, he published Dien Cai Dau To this day, he has published many other books of poems He is viewed as one of the best writers about the Vietnam War. He has received many awards

When we stop, a green snake starts again through deep branches. Spiders mend webs we marched into. Monkeys jabber in flame trees, dancing on the limbs to make fire-colored petals fall. Torch birds burn through the dark-green day. the lieutenant puts on sunglasses & points to an X circled on his map. When will we learn to move like trees move? The point man raises his hand Wait! We’ve just crossed paths with VC, branches left quivering. The lieutenant’s right hand says what to do. We walk into a clearing that blinds. We move like a platoon of silhouettes balancing sledge hammers on our heads, unaware our shadows have united from us, wandered off & gotten lost.

First Person POV One Stanza Flowing Passages Punctuating Passages Repetition

Wrote of Jazz, Basketball, and War Themes cherished the beauty in positive aspects, Criticism in negative topics.

Tone is calm yet powerful; hides true theme in words Mood is seen in a different light

Allusion Symbolism Personification Irony

When the plowblade struck An old stump hiding under The soil like a beggar's Rotten tooth, they swarmed up & Mister Jackson left the plow Wedged like a whaler's harpoon. The horse was midnight Against dusk, tethered to somebody's Pocketwatch. He shivered, but not The way women shook their heads Before mirrors at the five & dime--a deeper connection To the low field's evening star. He stood there, in tracechains, Lathered in froth, just Stopped by a great, goofy Calmness. He whinnied Once, & then the whole Beautiful, blue-black sky Fell on his back.

“dreamy intellectual”-New York Times “Wordsworthian, worldly philosophic”- Bruce Weber

"His poems, many of which are built on fiercely autobiographical details—about his stint in Vietnam, about his childhood—deal with the stains that experience leaves on a life, and they are often achingly suggestive without resolution." – New York Times “Komunyakaa crafts a ‘neon vernacular.’”-Robyn Selman

"Komunyakaa's Vietnam poems rank with the best on that subject. He focuses on the mental horrors of war—the anguish shared by the soldiers, those left at home to keep watch, and other observers, participants, objectors, who are all part of the 'psychological terrain.'“- Kirkland C.Jones

My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite. I said I wouldn't, dammit: No tears. I'm stone. I'm flesh. My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night slanted against morning. I turn this way--the stone lets me go. I turn that way--I'm inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on the light to make a difference. I go down the 58,022 names, half-expecting to find my own in letters like smoke. I touch the name Andrew Johnson; I see the booby trap's white flash. Names shimmer on a woman's blouse but when she walks away the names stay on the wall. Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's wings cutting across my stare. The sky. A plane in the sky. A white vet's image floats closer to me, then his pale eyes look through mine. I'm a window. He's lost his right arm inside the stone. In the black mirror a woman's trying to erase names: No, she's brushing a boy's hair.

Uses experiences as inspiration for poems The Vietnam War had profound effects on him His style forces readers to think about his poems One of the greatest Vietnam War poets