Driving and Drinking [North to Parowan Gap] (David Lee)

I don't know who David Lee is, but I found this poem of his through a series of uninteresting twists.

It's almost cheesy with its "Indins" and "Misippi". In fact, I wish he had found a way to express drunkenness without turning to those types of cop-outs. Not cop-outs exactly, it's just they are too easy. Where is the subtlety? I much prefer this tell: "you just turn there and that dirt road/goes out to the Gap/where them Indins wrote on them rocks/I remember the first time/I ever got drunk." The non-linear thinking, the childishness of his statement is just perfect in how it lets you know how much drinking and driving N has been doing.

Favorite line: "Me and my brother/we was following this branch back home in Misippi/when we seen a trail leading off/and he knew but I didn't"

Evening Concert, Sainte-Chapelle (John Updike)

I know John Updike for writing the Rabbit series. Had no idea he also wrote poetry. Poets.org only shows one poem to his name so it seems he mainly stuck with prose.

And even this poem is pretty prose-y. True, the lines are of equal measure. It's a sonnet and there is ample use of alliteration. Maybe too much alliteration really. I mean, this line: "across the Seine;/we rustled into place. Then violins/vaunting Vivaldi's strident strength' becomes almost funny with all of its trills. Maybe it's a clever statement of Vivaldi's music. I'm not familiar.

Favorite line: "in shapes/of shield and cross and strut and brace"

Bread Dipped in Olive Oil and Salt (Theo Dorgan)

Bread dipped in Olive Oil and Salt? Sounds like half of a bad idea. Or half a good one, I suppose. I mean, bread dipped in salt??? Shudder. Ew. And mostly impossible. How do you dip something into a solid? You can't. Only except, salt isn't a solid in the same way that steel is.

But still, makes me doubt the truth of what N is saying that stories lead on to stories. "Story opening story" Uh huh, yeah right, in the same way that salt is a great dipping sauce??

Dunno, I get that he's going for substance, but I don't buy it.

Favorite line: "Bread dipped in olive oil and salt"

What Was Told, That (Rumi)

What Was Told, That by the poet Rumi.

I know it's translated, but gosh, I love the phrasing and the line lengths and the couplets of this poem. Pretty groovy stuff.

The poem reminds me of the song sung by Nina Simone: Feeling Good. Things are wholly awesome. And by hearing that song, by reading this poem I feel a shadow of that complete goodness and simply have to smile. I felt a little lighter as I finished reading this poem.

Favorite line: "What was said to the rose that made it open was said/to me here in my chest."

Dreams (Langston Hughes)

Oh man, who doesn't know this poem? I had to memorize it back in the day. For some reason I think it may have been the first poem we ever truly covered in school - had a discussion about. Langston Hughes has written far better poems, but still, this one has a special place for me.

It's seems like a poem written in an English class. "Take a common word and write a poem in which you creatively define it. At least two metaphors required." Guess that makes L. Hughes a slacker since he did the bare minimum.

Dunno, guess I liked it a lot more when I first encountered it. Wonder if that's the case for other people. That it doesn't have much repeat value.

Favorite line: "Life is a barren field"

MIA

Sleep now. Poem tomorrow.

Ulysses (Lord Alfred Tennyson)

I first read this poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson in high school, as I imagine most people do. This poem is certainly longer than most poems I cover in this blog. It's dense. Both in subject and in the physical placement of words on the page.

Ha! It's poetic fanfiction! Take a character from someone's work. Imagine their problem - put into a creative output. 14-year-olds do it. And apparently so do 19th century dudes. Of course, it's actual talent to put this kind of spin on something so established.

Ulysses has grown old. He wants to do new things once again. He wants to explore. He seems bored (ha! and that, perhaps, is why he spend days writing this masterpiece!). His declaration at the end of the poem, to never cease in exploration, at first seems wonderful - full of spirit. But on second look, it's totally an escape. He's bored at home, so he runs? And what about his family? His responsibilities?

Perhaps it's not such a bold declaration as much as the immature coward's way out.

Favorite line: "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

Lucille Clifton

Sorry to not have written in days. Not sure why I didn't. I've got to keep at this, daily.

In my absentia, the poet Lucille Clifton passed away. I've talked about a few of her poems in the past. For this memorial, I'm going to return to her rendition of homage to my hips. The pride in her voice is for her womanhood, true, but couldn't it also be for the art of poetry, for this poem, future poems, all poems.

Let's say it is and toast these last few days to Lucille Clifton - pure poet.

A Flea And A Fly (Unknown)

That's not the real title on this limerick. I don't know the title; I don't know the poet. I do know that this is one funny, clever poem.

Word play!

I was going to say more, but no, that pretty much sums it up. It's fun, clever, and literate. Love it!

Favorite line: "So they flew through a flaw in the flue"

Answer to a Child's Question (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Ha! and man, will lovers never tire of talking about anything but themselves?? I mean, yes, yes, this poem by Sam C. could be about a nice spring day or even Valentine's. But, what I first thought of after reading it was that N is just tired/fed up with lovers' inane talk concerning themselves.

Maybe I'm just hoping for and feeling out a comic note in what would be an ordinary 19th century short poem on Nature. Who knows? I see that too, but I prefer thinking that Coleridge is putting a smack-down on the neighborhood lovebirds.

Favorite line: "But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,/And singing, and loving—all come back together."

Untitled (Shido)

It's difficult to describe mystery without sounding cheesy. However, this poem by Shido does a good job of illustrating what is unknown and where it may be.

Right next to the brightest light in the sky is where the unimaginable (a shark?!) is. He's twice hidden there. He hides his head. He also hides beneath the wave. Wonder why he needs to be hidden two times since few would look too closely seeing as he's right next to the biggest thing in the night sky.

Haha, maybe the shark is self-conscious?

I like how the syntax in the poem mirrors hiding.

Favorite line: "There, by the crescent moon, the shark"

MIA

Tuesday actually. Sorry, just too much activity in this house to concentrate on a new post.

MIA

A friend is coming in from out of town, so I won't be able to post until Monday, I think. See you next week!

A Ditty (Sir Philip Sidney)

Don't know a bit bout the poet, but this is a ditty, uh huh.

Only, it's not. At least I don't think so. There is no rhythm, no gait, no musicality. It just sounds so ploddingly.

I like the poem, I think. It's a nice message: "My true-love hath my heart, and I have his." But there is no magic in it. No unique turns of phrase or striking comparisons, nada.

So, ya know, meh.

Favorite line: "His heart in me keeps him and me in one"

The Eel (Ogden Nash)

I'm tired and it is cute. The Eel by Ogden Nash. I adore this poem. I like the rhyme - it makes it comedic. I, personally, like eel. And I like the eels (and the way it all feels) in this delightful poem.

Favorite line: "I don't mind eels/Except as meals."

Be Drunk (Charles Baudelaire)

It's a poem full of advice. One person's (Charles B's) perspective on the world and how to get along in it. I kind of like his sentiment - that one should be drunk "On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish". Doesn't matter on what you are drunk, but be flush with something.

I like this poem. It has three stanzas, but no real lines though. It doesn't have line breaks like most poems do. It's more like three textual paragraphs. Maybe, it could be classified as a prose poem. In that case, the language better be beautiful and, luckily, it is. This line, in particular, is just fantastic: "And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the/ mournful solitude of your room, you wake again". All those 's' sounds. :).

Favorite line: "And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the/ mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or/ gone, ask the wind"

First Fig (Edna St. Vincent Millay)

Hehe. Her name is practically as long as the poem. This is one of the few poems that has transcended academia and filtered through becoming a common expression for everyone. I don't know why it's titled First Fig, but who doesn't know what the phrase to burn your candle at both ends means? And who would have suspected it derives from this small piece?

So, yeah, work real hard - and you can't maintain that pace, but while you are, you can accomplish sooo much.

Uh huh. Nods. That's what I take that idiom to mean, at least. I've got to run, but isn't it great that a poem written last century (I was about to write this century - sheesh, it's been ten years) is so entrenched in the common vernacular?

Favorite line: "My candle burns at both ends;/It will not last the night"

Clothes, Chapter X (Khalil Gibran)

I had not heard of this poet before, but he is, apparently, "the third most widely read poet, behind Shakespeare and Lao-Tzu, in history". I clicked on this poem at random - no real reason. Guess I liked the idea that there have to be nine other verses concerning clothing out there.

Don't know if the poem was originally in another language and then translated or not. The language is pretty straight-forward. The lines themselves don't hold to any form. And there are not even stanzas. I can't tell if the single spacing is intentional and original or simply the site's default. Either way, the poem doesn't look pretty. There is no spice to these words, these lines. They all end the same way - with a period. For that reason there is no lilt to the thing. Flat, flat, flat. The last line has some music to it, at the very least.

I guess it's nice in a broad, cultural way. It's good in that same sense too. I wish it were more pulled together - with more intentional line breaks and stanzas. Personal preference, is all.

Well, Khalil might be beloved and read by millions all over the world, but, at least with this poem, he does not impress me much.

Favorite line: "the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair."

MIA

Taking a break. Be around tomorrow. Or actually, tomorrow's really busy. Friday for sure.

Sidekicks (Ronald Koertge)

Today, I looked to Poetry180 for a poem to talk about. Poetry180 is a collection that is meant to provide a poem-a-day for high school students. Today's choice is the poem (by Ronald Koertge) for Day 2.

It's very graspable. The meaning does not hide - nor does the poem use tough vocab or grammar. It doesn't seem to fall into any particular poetic form. In fact, it's pretty messy - structurally.

It's good for school because it tells what the point is right in the text: "[Sidekicks] remind us of a part/of ourselves,/the dependent part that can never grow up". The depth comes from the truth found in that statement. It would make for a good assignment and makes for a good poem because you can take the truth that stems from that statement and see it in your own life.

Favorite line: "the dependent part that can never grow up,/the part that is painfully eager to please,/always wants a hug and never gets enough."

The Kiss (Stephen Dunn)

Valentine's Day is in less than two weeks. But, ya know, since it's Groundhog's Day tomorrow, this poem by Stephen Dunn, which begins with a typo, is most apt. (Apt in the Billy Murray-movie way, that is.)

It is near-impossible to write about something as common as a kiss without filling with treacle or cliche. But, darn it, Mr. Dunn does it. There's not a line of cliche in this poem. Not a line that is trying to subvert what a kiss normally is or means. The poem is romantic. Sweetly so. I mean, the whole thing ends in wedded bliss.

I think it avoids treacle by remaining firmly on the ground. Everything is rooted in something that is real. The language is real; the phrasing sounds like someone I know might say those very lines. The repetition of 'kiss' and of the 's' sound help to root the poem in place - keep it centered on what the whole thing is about - that which is the only thing that N can consider.

Favorite line: "She kissed me again, reaching that place/that sends messages to toes and fingertips,/then all the way to something like home."