Delightful thread.
Henry, To Anne Gregory is the poem that had me fall helplessly in love with poetry. I think I was a freshman in high school.There were plenty of poems in my early childhood, but that one just reached down into me and left its mark forever. It came into my life at the right time.
Tim, it's a lovely reply to Frost's Gold, with a terrific close. Are you saying the slants weaken the poem ? That if you'd written it today you'd perfect the rhymes? Gad, I hope not. Spindly is spindly, afterall, and solid standing is solid. I guess I take exception to the general idea that slants are sloppy or somehow easier to employ. I think they produce wonderful, ambiguous effects and a lovely kind of music. They do have to work hard to overcome the general prejudice against them. I love slants, and have often wondered why they aren't more lauded/experimented with on the 'sphere, except of course by Alicia. Oh, heavens, yes, what Janet and Henry said about the slants in Dies Irae.
I had to laugh over your comment about my getting away with murder. I don't disagree. I can't believe it's my o-so-charming-personality. I tend to think the short line allows for more, not fewer liberties, though I know you feel otherwise. Or maybe (gasp) even purists accept a bit of the free verse element now and then. Pls don't throw stones.
Below is one that meets the challenge you put my way. I feel it does not sound like me. I'm pasting in a couple that are more representative, by way of contrast.
About Certainty
There's much to be learned
from the open curve
of the question mark,
from the comma's calm,
from the certain G,
and the soft w
to the kindred link
of the q and the u,
and yet,
and yet,
in this state,
a breath away
from the fervent curve,
from the i and the u
is the certain fear
of a kind of dark:
the abrupt chagrin,
the erasure mark.
````````
Of all the Words
Of all the words
that move about
and whisper through the air,
surprise, allow,
incongruous,
wonder and despair,
remembering,
suddenness,
melancholy, dare
I choose the ones
that have the lightest
melodies to spare
and move about
like sunlight in
the brown that is my hair.
```````````
The Moving Wall
The Native people came.
They walked the grass and found
where sky agreed to name
this land a sacred ground.
A golden eagle flew
and mountain mares were fed
sweet hay as time withdrew
and piece by piece the dead
were resurrected here.
To build or to destroy
the reverence and the fear
that filled my little boy.
[This message has been edited by wendy v (edited May 24, 2004).]
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