Ode To The Onion (Pablo Neruda)

I was listening to Marketplace on NPR the other day, when this story about an onion shortage came on. The story started with a nod to Pablo Neruda's 'Ode To The Onion'. I had never heard that poem before, so I simply had to look it up.

The copy that I found doesn't cite who translated it, but I wish it had been done better. For instance, at the end, the word "crystalline" really seemed out of place. Meh.

The simplicity of the poem's language nicely mirrors the simple nature of the onion - a cooking staple. But like how an onion adds such depth and taste to a sauce, the descriptions of this simple plant are almost over the top in their comparisons. It's described as "a planet", "the miracle" and " destined to shine".

A tad too enthusiastic for me, but it is an ode (which I know he's written a number of to various mundane things). It seems to be advice to see the wonder, the marvelousness of even ordinary objects.

Okay, Pablo Neruda, I can get behind that sentiment.

Favorite line: "Onion, / luminous flask"

Oysters (Seamus Heaney)

As a surprising number of posts on my facebook wall this morning mentioned, Seamus Heaney died today at 74. I don't know much of his work; I only have one of his poetry books - the excellent Field Work. However, the first poem in it, Oysters, is one of my favorites and has special significance for me.

I had only recently tried oysters when I first read the poem and the line "My tongue was a filling estuary" was such a thunderstroke. Yes, that's it. As was the descriptor of the seafood as "Alive and violated." Eating oysters is so unlike eating other meats/seafoods - it is more basic, primal and more delicate, full of sensations.

This poem is about oysters; it is about history (nice little bit about how the Romans got their oysters); it is about writing. It makes for a marvelous opener to the whole book and really gets to explaining the how and the feel of writing.

And that last line! Mmm. "I ate the day/Deliberately, that its tang/Might quicken me all into verb, pure verb." WOW. I remember reading this and hitting that closing line and being simply blown away. Stunning, stunning, stunning.

Thank you, Seamus Heaney.

Favorite line: "Might quicken me all into verb, pure verb"

It was a hard thing to undo this knot (Gerard Manley Hopkins)

I took a little break from daily updating these past couple weeks, but I think I am ready to start anew with this quotidian effort.

Whenever I have run across a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins I have been duly impressed. I find his poetry to be technically impressive, philosophical, searching and kind. I think he'd have been a cool dude to have a late-night conversation with. Anyway, his poem for today did nothing to disabuse me of my prior opinions.

It's a short (love short poems!!), rhyming couplet poem that makes me think of truths in physics and in art/writing. Oh and it also makes me reflect on how pretty rainbows are. :)

If we both look at a rainbow in the sky, we are actually looking at two different bows. (True!) The slight difference in our perspectives is enough for the light to hit the drops in a slightly different way creating a yes, similar, but truly 100% distinct rainbow.

So personal perspective changes everything. In nature and then so in writing as well. Two people can read a poem or a story and come away with two different yet valid versions of the work.

Ooh, maybe the fact that the poem starts and ends with the same line is a nod to that concept.

Favorite line: "The rainbow shines, but only in the thought / Of him that looks."

The rainbow shines, but only in the thought
Of him that looks. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23645#sthash.3OLR9hX2.dpuf

The rainbow shines, but only in the thought
Of him that looks. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23645#sthash.3OLR9hX2.dpuf

Four Poems (Yosa Buson)

Today's post is slightly unusual in that it is talking about every poem on the linked page. All four are by Yosa Buson. They have been translated from the Japanese, but I imagine that natively they are all haiku.

It's unusual to talk of poems in a grouping like they are here. But, um, they are all serene and picturesque. I think it's a haiku feature, but I like that for each one you know what season it is. Summer, autumn, frost.

My favorite is number 557. One's first step is a journey, all by itself. But also, since it's outside the gate, it's like leaving home and as the poem states, it's appropriately autumn. If you leave the gate of home, you're not a child anymore, so you are on the path to adulthood and old age and then death. Kind of like summer --> autumn --> winter. And not only is it wintertime, but it's evening (close of day) too. Sheesh, neh?

Favorite line: "I too am a traveller"

sisters (Lucille Clifton)

Today's poem is sisters by Lucille Clifton.

I like the easiness of this poem. It sounds like natural speech. I adore how you can piece together a whole joined friendship out of her statements. You know they grew up together, went through some hard time, poverty together and are now living middle-aged life with families, together.

It's a sweet poem that I really hope the friend whom it is about cherishes. What a kind, loving poem.

Favorite line: "got babies / got thirty-five / got black"

got babies got thirty-five got black

What Is an Epigram? (Samuel Tayler Coleridge)

Oho! I just posted that other poem/epigram about parsley and now this! If you need a pithy definition of the word, look no farther than this poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 

I look at the poem and want to edit it, however. Since the title is repeated in the poem itself, it seems to not fulfill the given definition of an epigram. It could be made even more brief and still retain the message.

Favorite line: "wit its soul"

wit its soulw

Further Reflections on Parsley (Ogden Nash)

This little poem (5 syllables!) by Ogden Nash is an epigram on that bit of green that "decorates" your plate at restaurants. The title is full of pomp (and at 8 syllables is almost double the length of the poem) and I don't know where (but doubt if) the original reflections on parsley are to be found.

Are all epigrams poems? How is this epigram a poem? Or is it a poem which I am falsely calling an epigram?

What is a poem is such a difficult question to satisfactorily answer. Maybe that will be a good post for a later date.

Favorite line: "Parsley" (hahha)

Wild Rose (Bryher)

Wild Rose by Bryher

Eh, this poem sounds very old. It's plainly romantic and a little bit cliche. But the phrasing is unique enough that I'd say that the poem as a whole doesn't fall as a cliche. But I also can't say that I find myself swooning over the images. It's pretty well written, but it's not for me.

Favorite line: "Only the beat of your throat against my eyes"

Only the beat of your throat against my eyes.

These Hands, If Not Gods (Natalie Diaz)

I like poems that combine the holy and the profane. Poet Carl Phillips does this very well. This poem by Natalie Diaz, unlike those by Carl Philips, lacks hesitancy - it's very straight forward and clear headed - but it does mix bodies and sex with holiness and biblical references.

I like her questioning if her hands are not gods with all that they do. How are they not like gods when they can shape her lover's body, his bodily reactions, their shared love? What a wonderful idea and concept for a poem.

Favorite line: "Finally, / a sin worth hurting for."

Finally,
a sin worth hurting for.

won't you celebrate with me (Lucille Clifton)

I don't know the cause why Lucille Clifton wrote this poem, but I can find resonance in my own life.

I get that this poem is a celebration of daily victories, of simply being every.day, but I also find a connection to celebrating that which may have been otherwise. Celebrate life, for it may have been otherwise; celebrate your being, for it may have been otherwise. That kind of thing.

I will celebrate to you! And to myself and to anyone else who finds a connection with this poem.

Favorite line: "won't you celebrate with me / what i have shaped into / a kind of life? i had no model."

won't you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23323#sthash.3XmCBUjJ.dpuf

Experiment in Divination: Voice and Character (Rebecca Wolff)

Experiment in Divination: Voice and Character by Rebecca Wolff.

I have had a long day and I am tired, so there won't be much substantial talk about this poem by Rebecca Wolff. Sorry 'bout that.

However, I did want to say that as I read this poem it seemed like a chant or other religious sort-of song. All the repeated and echoed lines.

Favorite line: "There is a curiosity that knows / I know"

There is a curiosity that knows
I know

My Rich Friend (Jason Schneiderman)

This poem, by Jason Schneiderman, reminds me, in tone, of ones by Frank O'Hara. It has a similar breeziness to it.

This rich friend, who has all options open to him, also has the perfect 'out' - the ideal window to jump from if he were to commit suicide. It's a telling observation of N, which illuminates more about him than the rich friend. I really like poems (and stories) which provide more details about the speaker than the subject.

Favorite line: "and then the city going by / ever so fast."

Dear Friends (Edwin Arlington Robinson)

Dear Friends by Edwin Arlington Robinson.

Ah ha! When I read, I noted the rhymes and saw that they had a certain pattern. I looked it up and this poem is a Petrarchan sonnet! Very impressive. I had selected today's poem, not for its form, but because I liked what it said.

I can just picture his friends bemoaning his writing career. It's very sweet - their care - and very misdirected which is why I like his response to them in this poem - it's still sweet and kind, but also firm as he says 'lay off!'. Hehe. I loved the concluding two lines. Made me crack a smile.

Favorite line: "Dear friends, reproach me not for what I do"

Dear friends, reproach me not for what I do,

Anybody Can Write a Poem (Bradley Paul)

Anybody Can Write a Poem by Bradley Paul

Love this. It starts with, as the title says, the idea, the truth(?), that anyone can write a poem and ends with his mother and gives a reason (the reason?) he writes poetry - that he just can't shut up.

I love that this poem contains the modern (an Internet argument) and the ancient (mothers and sons) and also gives a taste of the personalities and relationship between the son and the mother.

I want to read more  from this poet.

Favorite line: "I am arguing with an idiot online."

I am arguing with an idiot online.

Pirate Ships (Brandon Dean Lamson)

I like this poem's (by Brandon Dean Lamson) subject matter and its ease in tone and language. However, I don't like the plainness of its lines or the fact that there is no set pattern for the stanza lengths. Seems sloppy. And the ending falls completely flat for me. Dunno. Perhaps, it echoes for some, but I wish it had ended on a stronger note.

Favorite line: "but I can't focus what's happening"

Coda (Ezra Pound)

The end of a long day, so today's is the appropriately titled 'Coda' by Ezra Pound.

Three (long) lines makes me wonder if you could call this a haiku - an nontraditional one for sure.

Anyway, I like what he is wondering in this poem. If a poem, if art, looks for meaning in all (the wrong?) places does it, perhaps, miss the beauty of the thing itself (the peoples' faces) for the hidden meaning it sees within?

Favorite line: "O my songs"