Wallace Stevens "The Poems of Our Climate"

Understanding Stevens does not come easily to me. His poetry seems that of philosophical approaches and ideas which perhaps only he truly understood. Although I do appreciate his poetry, I find it that he confuses the reader throughout his works and provokes a feeling of ambiguity. Stevens makes his reader think about the underlying message and possibly does this in order to give the reader a freedom of his/her own understanding of the poetry.

“There would still remain the never-resting mind,
So that one would want to escape, come back
To what had been so long composed.” (18-20, 253)

In the above lines, taken from “The Poems of Our Climate”, I see a lot of meaning which I totally agree with. To me, it seems like Stevens is telling the reader that although there are many lovely and amazing images in nature, people do not seem to appreciate the simplicity and instead choose to ignore the beauty which is so serene and gentle. He explains in the first stanza, how innocent and pure nature is, as he forms images of tranquility and very relaxing, almost meditating like descriptions, within his word choice.
Stevens mentions “pink and white carnations” and follows that with “one desires so much more than that” (6, 252). Carnations are associated with fascination, distinction, and love. Moreover, according to http://www.proflowers.com/, white carnations are associated with purity and luck, and pink carnations are often given as a sign of gratitude. I find this to be very essential to the meaning of this poem. People tend to forget that they are in reality in sync with nature. Individuals look for luck and gratitude elsewhere, instead of appreciating what is the most vital creation of all – our environment. It is easy to loose touch with what should be the focus of our existence due to the many pressures of life. People look for beauty and purity in material or artificial objects, which in turn create greed and decadence.
What’s pure is ironically imperfect. As Stevens said, “The imperfect is our paradise” (21, 253). Poetry is also imperfect; and “The Poems of Our Climate” are the imperfections which people overlook everyday that are the most beautifully, simply, and naturally made jewels of the world. Our climate produces poems on its own; we are only too busy to notice them.