As poets we
use our language to disguise aspects of ourself. We dress ourselves up in
metaphor and simile, personifcation and allegory. Regrets, longings and lust are transformed
into rain, night-time or vegetables. A poem is always an insight into the poet,
even a translation. Rather than delve
into the murky metaphors that disguise this poet, let's look at some dead poets
instead. After all, they can't dispute
my claims and that means I win. Yes, I
do.
Robert Frost - The Road Not Taken
Two roads
diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the
one less traveled by,
And that has
made all the difference.
What he doesn't usually tell people about
himself: He finds walking down quiet paths adventurous.Once, in a
reckless mood, he poured the coffee into a cup before the milk. When his wife became morbidly
depressed he parted his hair on the left, just to make her smile.
Emily Dickinson - I'm Nobody! Who are you?
I'm Nobody!
Who are you?
Are you --
Nobody -- Too?
Then there's
a pair of us!
Don't tell!
they'd advertise -- you know!
What she doesn't usually tell people about
herself: Alone in that room for days at a time, it's only natural that one
would strike up a conversation with one's mirror, or Fictional Personification
of a Feeling of
Insignificance (FIPFI with a silent P) as she preferred to be known.
John Berryman - Dream Song 29
There sat
down, once, a thing on Henry's heart
so heavy, if
he had a hundred years
& more,
& weeping, sleepless, in all them time
Henry could
not make good
What he doesn't usually tell people about
himself: Berryman is a lover of labradors but he lacks Caesar
Milan's discipline. He allows his
chocolate lab to eat his leftovers, from the plate, and even encourages
it to sleep on the sofa. The dog is now
morbidly obese. Due to its penchant for
sleeping in
Berryman's bed, it once crushed the poet, causing him some mild breathing
difficulties which lasted until
long after breakfast.
Sylvia Plath - Lady Lazarus
I have done
it again.
One year in
every ten
I manage it-
What she doesn't usually tell people about
herself: Numerology wasn't her major but it was a hobby she practiced with
fervour. There was something about that
big, round zero that entranced her. For
one year out of every ten she had that beautiful ring at the end of her
age. The first time it happened she
turned every dot above the i into a circle.
When she turned twenty she became obsessed with melons ("The world
is splitting open at my feet like a ripe, juicy watermelon"). At thirty it was the rings of the hob.
Hilda Doolittle - The Sheltered Garden
Or the melon
--
let it
bleach yellow
in the
winter light,
even tart to
the taste --
it is better
to taste of frost --
the
exquisite frost --
than of
wadding and of dead grass.
What she doesn't usually tell people about
herself: As the instigator of the whole melon craze among women poets of
the 1950s, Hilda carved a name for herself in the particular genre of
frost-bitten melon. Although this
particular craving never caught on among her contemporaries, Hilda was not put
off and was the only person to be laughed off the How Does Your Garden Grow?
BBC radio programme (later to become Gardeners' Question Time) after revealing
that her cockle shells were yet to produce a yield of cod. Unable to speak of the humiliation, she
channelled her pain into her melon poetry.
2 comments:
You should be teaching poetry.
Dear Ms Ellis,
I am a chocolate Lab with a centre parting. I am considering an ode to the cantelupe. While my cockles are not strong my mussels are not bad. Should I submit to Poetry Review?
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