Welcome to the 272nd Virtual Poetry Circle!
Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.
Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s book suggested.
Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.
Today’s poem is from Paul Engle, recited by Dylan Stuntz:
Hero I I have heard the horn of Roland goldly screaming In the petty Pyrenees of the inner ear And seen the frightful Saracens of fear Pour from the passes, fought them, brave in dreaming. But waked, and heard my own voice tinly screaming In the whorled and whirling valleys of the ear, And beat the savage bed back in my fear, And crawled, unheroed, down those cliffs of dreaming. II I have ridden with Hannibal in the mountain dusk, Watching the drivers yell the doomed and gray Elephants over the trumpeting Alps, gone gay With snow vivid on peaks, on the ivory tusk. But waked, and found myself in the vivid dusk Plunging the deep and icy floor, gone gray With bellowing shapes of morning, and the gay Sunshaft through me like an ivory tusk. III I have smiled on the platform, hearing without shame The crowd scream out my praise, I, the new star, Handsome, disparaging my bloody scar, Yet turning its curve to the light when they called my name. But waked, and the empty window sneered my name, The sky bled, drop by golden drop, each star The curved moon glittered like a sickle's scar, The night wind called with its gentle voices: Shame! IV I have climbed the secret balcony, on the floor Lain with the lady, drunk the passionate wine, Found, beneath the green, lewd-smelling vine, Love open to me like a waiting door. But waked to delirious shadows on the door, Found, while my stomach staggered with sour wine, Green drunkenness creep on me like a vine, And puked my passion on the bathroom floor. V I have run with Boone and watched the Indian pillage The log house, fought, arrow in leg, and hobbled Over the painful ground while the warrior gobbled Wild-turkey cry, but escaped to save the village. But waked, and walked the city, vicious village, Fought through the traffic where the wild horn gobbled, Bruised on the bumper, turned toward home, hobbled Back, myself the house my neighbors pillage. VI I have lain in bed and felt my body taken Like water utterly possessing sand, Surrounding, seething, soothing, as a hand Comforts and clasps the hand that it has shaken. But waked, and found that I was wholly shaken By you, as the wave surrounds and seethes the sand, That your whole body was a reaching hand And my whole body the hand that yours had taken.
What do you think?