Welcome to the 168th Virtual Poetry Circle!
Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.
Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s books 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.
Also, sign up for the 2012 Fearless Poetry Reading Challenge because its simple; you only need to read 1 book of poetry. Please visit the stops on the 2012 National Poetry Month Blog Tour.
Today’s poem is from fellow blogger Amy Durant‘s Out of True:
Palimpsest You said, someday, you’ll write me into a poem. I laughed. Listen: You open me, you crack and spill me like an egg, I overflow like a basin forgotten outdoors in a rainstorm. In this moment, I would stand outside, waiting for you with a bouquet of typewriter keys, the stems cocooned in newspaper. I would woo you with my inky palms. I would win you with the words behind my teeth. But to cover the raw, glistening truth, the vulnerable core, the place where I live, I said, you don’t want me to write about you; you couldn’t trust the words. Poets’ tongues are fat with lies.
What do you think?
Very nice poem indeed. I loved it!
I loved the images in this poem, the bouquet of typewriter keys especially. And that last line is awesome. That last line alone could lead an entire discussion.
Adore the visuals in this one! When I read “I overflow like a basin forgotten outdoors
in a rainstorm”, those words triggered a memory of my childhood on the farm.
I loved how the poem swirled in a tender/romantic way … and then the wonderful slap-in-the-face last line was just perfect.
Thank you for introducing me to Amy’s poetry.
I hope you’ll all come back for the review and check out the giveaway!
I actually liked it. Not sure about all the meaning, but I enjoyed it 😀
The final line reminds me of something Jean Cocteau said “the poet is a liar who always speaks the truth ” Beware of the the idea of wanting to appear in an artist/writers work you may not be able to comprehend how you’re perceived. The poem as a whole made me think of Brian Patton’s poem A blade of grass
You ask for a poem.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You say it is not enough .
You ask for a poem.
I say this blade of grass will do.
It has dressed itself in frost,
It is more immediate
Than any image of my making
You say it is not a poem,
It is a blade of grass and grass
Is not quite good enough .
I offer you a blade of grass.
You are indignant.
You say it is to easy to offer grass.
It is absurd.
Anyone can offer a blade of grass.
You ask for a poem.
And so I write a tragedy about
How a blade of grass
Becomes more and more difficult to offer,
And about how as you grow older
A blade of grass
Becomes more difficult to accept.