As per Josh H., a list of three favorite poems:
My all time favorite:
“Love Poem” by John Fredrick Nims
My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing,
Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door,
You make at home: deftly you steady
The drunk clambering on his undulant floor.
Unpredictable dear, the taxi driver’s terror,
Shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime
Yet leaping before red apoplectic streetcars –
Misfit in any space. And never on time.
A wrench in the clocks of the solar system. Only
With words and people and love you move at ease,
In traffic of wit expertly maneuver
And keep us, all devotion, at your knees.
Forgetting your coffee staining our flannel,
Your lipstick spreading on our coat,
So gaily in love’s unbreakable heaven
Our souls on glory of spilt bourbon float.
Be with me darling early and late. Smash glasses –
I will study wry for your sake.
For should your hands drop white and empty
All the toys of the world would break.
I think the poem reminds me of every girl I’ve ever fallen for – slightly broken, maybe not totally polished but connecting with people on some amazing level. Are there a better closing two lines than “for should your hands drop white and empty/ all the toys of the world would break” ??? A bit melodramatic but then again so am I.
A solid choice for #2
“Dream Deferred” – Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore –
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugary over –
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Maybe a bit over used but that’s because it really is a great poem. Plus it’s easy to use for class when talking about apathy or indecision (The Road Less Traveled by Frost) or race (A Raisin in the Sun). Or imagery. Or form. Or…
But I just can’t come up with a third. Stephanie reminded me about Edna St. Vincent Millay – “Apostrophe to Man” is all about man destroying civilization and how maybe he should. Or there’s “The Man I Killed” or Shakespeare’s “My Mistress’ Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun”.
And I have to admit I do love Dunne’s “The Flea” and some of Browning’s cheesier stuff.
William Carlos Williams – besides having a great name – has written some of those great poems I like despite myself. “The Red Wheelbarrow” and “This is Just to Say.”
But he’s a love him or hate him sort of writer. (I’d be curious to hear what the general consensus is.)
And Maya Angelou and AI and some of the other newer poets doing stuff without punctuation. Lucille Clifton has this great sassy, AMC church-attending, hip swaying, big Easter hat wearing African American voice.
And of course the African poets from Kenya and Nigeria and Ghana who I am not allowed to appreciate because, as one person told me, I can never truly relate to “the struggle.”
Signing off,
The Man
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
When I saw William Carlos Williams I could almost hear the unanimous "huh?" from my sophmores I taught during student teaching. I believe I taught them, "This is just to say . . ." You know, the one about eating the plums. I also remember one of his about a wheel barrow in the rain. Though I'm not well-versed in his poems, I do like him in the same way that I like Andrew Wyeth paintings. Both of their "art" is just so obvious, yet somehow pleasing.
Very refreshing to read those poems. Keep up the good work!
Post a Comment