- This topic is empty.
-
Two Poems from Wendy Cope, Behold, a happy poet…
Variation on a Lennon and McCartney Song
Wendy Cope
Love, love, love,
Love, love, love,
Love, love, love,
Dooby doo dooby doo,
All you need is love,
Dooby dooby doo,
All you need is love,
Dooby dooby doo,
All you need is love,
or, failing that, alcohol.
The Uncertainty of the Poet
Wendy Cope
I am a poet
I am very fond of bananas.
I am bananas
I am very fond of a poet.
I am a poet of bananas
I am very fond.
A fond poet of ‘I am, I am’-
Very bananas.
Fond of ‘Am I bananas,
Am I?’- a very poet.
Bananas of a poet!
Am I fond?’ Am I very?
Poet bananas! I am.
I am very fond a ‘very’.
I am of very fond bananas.
Am I a poet?
Verily, verily, Mira-berily . . .
Banana-fanna-fo-ferrily
***************************************************************************************
Acacias
Nicanor Parra
Strolling many years ago
Down a street taken over by acacias in bloom
I found out from a friend who knows everything
That you had just gotten married.
I told him that I really
Had nothing to do with it.
I never loved you
— You know that better than I do —
Yet each time the acacias bloom
— Can you believe it? —
I get the very same feeling I had
When they hit me point-blank
With the heartbreaking news
That you had married someone else.
(Translated from the Spanish by David Unger)
Wendy Cope might say that Señor Parra needs a drink. Perhaps a mimosa, named after the Acacia dealbata
I heartily concur with Mr. O.
Food for thought. Thanks, Jan!
Now another poem, courtesy of Mirabile who was probably afraid to post it because of language.
Oh well. So, it’s a poem for grown-ups . . .
***********************************************************************************
my life is a typo
Ellen Kennedy
my cat has been biting my cheeks lately
she sits on my face and bites
i look at her and show her my face is sad
i say ‘look, my face is sad and it’s all your fault’
she makes a face like ‘oh’
i told my friend about my cat
she said ‘your life is pretty much a bestseller’
i thought ‘life is shit’
then i realized that most bestsellers are shit
she was right
will you pay me for living?
i’m a bestseller
Life and Death and Knowledge
Gabriel Gadfly
I.
You have only these hours and days.
II.
When you accept them,
you have no need of
afterlives or priorlives.
You have the single empty box
of a life and all the universe
to fill it with.
III.
Live like this: there is an end to you.
Don’t fear it. Don’t wallow.
Flowers wilt. Rivers dry up.
Even the stars extinguish themselves.
Have your time and then let it go.
IV.
Do not shy from your ending
with mad horse eyes.
V.
Allow the box of your life,
when you have filled it,
to have its spaces.
Resist the temptation
to stuff the gaps with gods
who do not know you.
VI.
Pull Uncertainty into your arms
and kiss her on the lips:
too many neglect her,
but she is an eager lover,
and desires only your attention.
Let her teach you how to say
“I don’t know, and that is beautiful.”
VII.
You have only these minutes and years.
Morning Poem
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches —
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead —
if it’s all you can do
to keep on trudging —
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted —
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
~ Mary Oliver ~
(Dream Work)
I defy anyone to read “Morning Poem” and tell me they don’t “get” poetry. Man, if you don’t get that, you don’t get life.
************************************************************************************
Chronos
Nicanor Parra
In Santiago, Chile
The days are interminably long:
Several eternities in a day.
Like the vendors of seaweed
Travelling on the backs of mules:
You yawn — you yawn again.
Yet the weeks are short
The months go racing by
And the years have wings.
Organic Book
by “Goya”
A certain poetically inclined friend of mine just got back from a months-long trip to her ancestral city of Temuco, Chile. While reacquainting herself with the garden, she found a book that someone had “forgotten” the previous summer, along with a key that someone had been using as a bookmark.
“It’s not just a regular book any more,” she explained. “Now it’s an organic book.”
“How strange that the wind should have left it open just at the beginning of Chapter 35. David and I celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary in March.”
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.