Thursday, February 02, 2006

Only to live


Reya's blog poetry reading is such an excellent idea, and I am really happy to participate.

And, while there are many authors I'd love to revisit from back in my Lit major days, I will post the first poem ever remember reading and loving, and my favorite poem from a poet I did not know I loved until I heard him read.


Emily Dickinson's "Wild Nights"
V Note: Anyone who does not believe this poem to be one of the dirtiest thoughts ever to come from a virgin's pen is dreaming. Emily would have been wild woman in the sack, and this poem reflect that raw passion and carelessness that make some virgins a surprising amount of fun.

Wild Nights--Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile--the Winds--
To a Heart in port--
Done with the Compass--
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor--Tonight--
In Thee!


W.S. Merwin's "The River Of Bees"
V Note: This photo is just as I remember him, all in black with white hair and such a soft and interesting face. It is amazing to me when poets like Merwin are gifted at reading poetry (even their own) as I consider both to be great gifts.
In a dream I returned to the river of bees
Five orange trees by the bridge and
Beside two mills my house
Into whose courtyard a blind man followed
The goats and stood singing
Of what was older

Soon it will be fifteen years

He was old he will have fallen into his eyes

I took my eyes
A long way to the calenders
Room after room asking how shall I live

One of the ends is made of streets
One man processions carry through it
Empty bottles their
Images of hope
It was offered to me by name

Once once and once
In the same city I was born
Asking what shall I say

He will have fallen into his mouth
Men think they are better than grass

I return to his voice rising like a forkful of hay

He was old he is not real nothing is real
Nor the noise of death drawing water

We are the echo of the future

On the door it says what to do to survive
But we were not born to survive
Only to live

5 Comments:

Blogger Washington Cube said...

I'm glad to see that so many people participated in Reya's project. It reminds us we are part of a tight knit blogging community. Emily I knew, but I had never read W.S. Merwin before, and I really enjoyed your entry.

5:50 PM  
Blogger Reya Mellicker said...

"I return to his voice rising like a forkful of hay"

And I'll return to reading this poem often. It is amazing!

We were not born to survive
Only to live

?? Wow.

Oh yeah, Emily was one wild woman, on the inside, that is.

8:14 PM  
Blogger Complacent Chase said...

I really enjoyed both of these poems. I especially liked the one by W.S. Merwin.
Thanks.

2:33 PM  
Blogger Rhinestone Cowgirl said...

I LOVE that poem by Emily Dickinson. I almost chose this one, for mine:

Ample make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.

Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise’ yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.

4:11 PM  
Blogger V said...

WC: Glad you like it--

Reya: Yes, there are some great lines in it

Chase: Thanks--I liked the ones you posted as well...I rise!

RC: Thanks for posting that one, it's great, too.

4:49 PM  

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