Forum / Personæ: The Shorter Poems

  • 0001_pabst_blue_ribbon_time.thumb
    Dolemite
    Nov 27, 05:18pm

    Ezra Pound was a ballsy mofo.

  • Night_chorus_book_cover.thumb
    Joani Reese
    Nov 27, 07:24pm

    Visits to St. Elizabeths

    by Elizabeth Bishop

    [1950]

    This is the house of Bedlam.

    This is the man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    This is the time
    of the tragic man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    This is a wristwatch
    telling the time
    of the talkative man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    This is a sailor
    wearing the watch
    that tells the time
    of the honored man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    This is the roadstead all of board
    reached by the sailor
    wearing the watch
    that tells the time
    of the old, brave man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    These are the years and the walls of the ward,
    the winds and clouds of the sea of board
    sailed by the sailor
    wearing the watch
    that tells the time
    of the cranky man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
    that dances weeping down the ward
    over the creaking sea of board
    beyond the sailor
    winding his watch
    that tells the time
    of the cruel man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    This is a world of books gone flat.
    This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
    that dances weeping down the ward
    over the creaking sea of board
    of the batty sailor
    that winds his watch
    that tells the time
    of the busy man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    This is a boy that pats the floor
    to see if the world is there, is flat,
    for the widowed Jew in the newspaper hat
    that dances weeping down the ward
    waltzing the length of a weaving board
    by the silent sailor
    that hears his watch
    that ticks the time
    of the tedious man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    These are the years and the walls and the door
    that shut on a boy that pats the floor
    to feel if the world is there and flat.
    This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
    that dances joyfully down the ward
    into the parting seas of board
    past the staring sailor
    that shakes his watch
    that tells the time
    of the poet, the man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

    This is the soldier home from the war.
    These are the years and the walls and the door
    that shut on a boy that pats the floor
    to see if the world is round or flat.
    This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
    that dances carefully down the ward,
    walking the plank of a coffin board
    with the crazy sailor
    that shows his watch
    that tells the time
    of the wretched man
    that lies in the house of Bedlam.

  • 0001_pabst_blue_ribbon_time.thumb
    Dolemite
    Nov 27, 10:48pm

    Salutation

    by Ezra Pound

    (1916)

    O generation of the thoroughly smug
    and thoroughly uncomfortable,
    I have seen fishermen picnicking in the sun,
    I have seen them with untidy families,
    I have seen their smiles full of teeth
    and heard ungainly laughter.
    And I am happier than you are,
    And they were happier than I am;
    And the fish swim in the lake
    and do not even own clothing.

  • Night_chorus_book_cover.thumb
    Joani Reese
    Nov 28, 12:07am

    Mesmerism

    "And a cat's in the water-butt."-- Robert Browning

    Aye you're a man that ! ye old mesmerizer
    Tyin' your meanin' in seventy swadelin's,
    One must of needs be a hang'd early riser
    To catch you at worm turning. Holy Odd's body-kins!

    'Cat's i' the water butt!' Thought's in your verse-barrel,
    Tell us this thing rather, then we'll believe you,
    You, Master Bob Browning, spite your apparel
    Jump to your sense and give praise as we'd lief do.

    You wheeze as a head-cold long-tonsilled Calliope,
    But God! what a sight you ha' got o' our in'ards,
    Mad as a hatter but surely no Myope,
    Broad as all ocean and leanin' man-kin'ards.

    Heart that was big as the bowels of Vesuvius,
    Words that were wing'd as her sparks in eruption,
    Eagled and thundered as Jupiter Pluvius,
    Sound in your wind past all signs o' corruption.

    Here's to you, Old Hippety-Hop o' the accents,
    True to the Truth's sake and crafty dissector,
    You grabbed at the gold sure; had no need to pack cents,
    Into your versicles.
    Clear sight's elector!

    Pound, Ezra. "Mesmerism." Personae: Collected Shorter Poems. New York: New Directions, 1926. 13. Print.

  • Darryl_falling_water.thumb
    Darryl Price
    Nov 30, 06:14pm

    Thank you all for posting these wonderful works--they just wake up the soul!

  • You must log in to reply to this thread.