Category Archives: poetry

The cheese of vegetables!

food and cooking, poetry, ,

This poem made me laugh at myself. I had never seen it until after the last of my many giddy visits to the apple ranch this fall, but its music plays such a familiar tune, that it presents the images and message as a makebelieve memory of a jolly uncle on whose knee I once sat, as we peeled apples together and sang of Johnny Appleseed, perhaps, and of a world united by the glory of apples.

ODE TO THE APPLE

Here’s to you, Apple,
I want to
celebrate you
by filling my mouth
with your name,
by eating you.

You are always
more refreshing than anything
or anybody,
always
newly fallen
from Paradise:
simple
and pure
rouged cheek
of dawn!

How difficult
the fruits of the Earth
are when compared to you:
grapes in their cells,
gloomy
mangos,
bony plums, figs
in their underwater world.
You are pure pomade,
fragrant bread,
the cheese
of vegetables!
When we bite into
your round innocence,
for an instant, we also return
to the fresh moment of a living thing’s creation,
and in essence, we contain a chunk of apple.

I crave
your absolute
abundance, your family
multiplied.
I want a city,
a republic,
the Mississippi river rolling
with apples,
and along its banks,
I want to see
the population
of the entire world,
united, reunited,
enjoying the simplest act on Earth:
eating an apple.

-Pablo Neruda

Canoe

history, poetry, , , ,

One book in my collection of poetry is the anthology Poems that Make Grown Men Cry, edited by father-son team Anthony and Ben Holden. Clive James contributed this poem by Keith Douglas to the book, and in his introductory comments tells us that it dates from early in the poet’s career, before he went off to war and became famous for his war poetry. Keith Douglas was killed in action during the invasion of Normandy.

James is moved by this work that is to him “all grace,” but feels that the supremely gracious moment is at the end, where, “…I can hardly breathe for grief. The grief is personal, of course. My father went away in the war; he, too, was fated never to return, and my mother continued her voyage alone.”

CANOE

Well, I am thinking this may be my last
summer, but cannot lose even a part
of pleasure in the old-fashioned art
of idleness. I cannot stand aghast

at whatever doom hovers in the background;
while grass and trees and the somnolent river
who know they are allowed to last for ever,
exchange between them the whole subdued sound

of this hot time. What sudden fearful fate
can deter my shade wandering next year
from a return? Whistle, and I will hear
and come again another evening, when this boat

travels with you alone towards Iffley:
as you lie looking up for thunder again,
this cool touch does not betoken rain;
it is my spirit that kisses your mouth lightly.

-Keith Douglas, 1940

One thing does not exist.

poetry, reality, time, , , ,

EVERNESS

One thing does not exist: Oblivion.
God saves the metal and he saves the dross.
And his prophetic memory guards from loss
The moons to come, and those of evenings gone.
Everything in the shadows in the glass
Which, in between the day’s two twilights, you
Have scattered by the thousands, or shall strew
Henceforward in the mirrors that you pass.
And everything is part of that diverse
Crystalline memory, the universe;
Whoever through its endless mazes wanders
Hears door on door click shut behind his stride,
And only from the sunset’s farther side
Shall view at last the Archetypes and the Splendors.

-Jorge Luis Borges
translated by Richard Wilbur

 

King Alfred’s Day

history, poetry, ,

I didn’t know until just now that October 26 is the traditional day to remember King Alfred. Fr. Malcolm Guite has done us the wonderful favor of reading the whole of G.K. Chesterton’s Ballad of the White Horse on his site.

Once I obtained cassette tapes of Chesterton reading his poem. I thought that would be the most marvelous thing. My history of such recordings and with the White Horse you can read here, but I must hurry and post the important link in case it might please you to be able to listen to the story on the day.