Here's a couple of sad poems this guy (see picture from ~13, 14, 15 years ago) wrote:
"I will make a poem of true riches" -W.W.
True riches only found in eyes
And richer still in those that cry
for longing of a dear, true friend
Who, gone too long, will come again
When softer shadows paint this hall--
And new-born leaves find hue and fall.
[23 September 1996]
The above poem was written in response to several things:
1) The Whitman line is from part 12 of "Starting from Paumanok" the poem continues:
I will make the true poem of riches,
To earn for the body and the mind whatever adheres and goes forward and is not dropt by death;
I will effuse egotism and show it underlying all, and I will be the bard of personality,
And I will show of male and female that either is but the equal of the other [...]
and earlier in that poem (part 9) (and this is the stanza from Whitman that as a high school boy first hooked me) he preaches:
What do you seek so pensive and silent?
What do you need camerado?
Dear son do you think it is love?
Listen dear son--listen America, daughter or son,
It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to excess, and yet it satisfies, it is great,
But there is something else very great, it makes the whole coincide,
It, magnificent, beyond materials, with continuous hands sweeps and provides for all.
2) A newly dead dad (17 September 1995)
3) The love of a girl that was "just a friend."
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I grew up in one house; in fact, I only ever had one bedroom that I shared with two brothers, then one brother, then none. That house was on Adams Street, 407. In college, I lived with some friends for 1 3/4 years, first on a couch (unofficailly) and then officially in an upstairs bedroom, at 407 Laramie Street.
407's
Twenty-two years old, upstairs bedroom
Of a college house, sounds like bridge night.
Suddenly, ten again, my brothers are out--my
sisters are gone-- I sit, by myself, in a shared room,
listening to women laugh and men move ice-
cubes in small glass tumblers. Now, mason jars
and Jim Beam and the women are still laughing--
and I am still listening, by myself, in a shared room.
Great, now I have to dig out an old pic and some way, way more sad poems for mine, because if you do it, I gotta too. ;) In fact, I think 407's is very good, and not in a 'for your age' type way. I like the difference of the glasses, and what a writerly-type thing to notice.
ReplyDeleteThe thing that strikes me most is the look of melancholy/sadness in your face...I don't know who you are looking at, how many beers you've had, or if this is taken after your father died, but you have that 'look' of maturity about you, even though you are clearly very young.
Good post, damn it.
See, this:
ReplyDelete"I will effuse egotism and show it underlying all, and I will be the bard of personality,"
is the Uncle Walt I still need you to explain to me because he makes me angry.
But this:
"It is a painful thing to love a man or woman to excess, and yet it satisfies, it is great,
But there is something else very great, it makes the whole coincide,
It, magnificent, beyond materials, with continuous hands sweeps and provides for all."
is the kind of Uncle Walt I can get behind. I'll keep reading for more of that.
And I should also point out that this version of your beard is dangerously close to the "Amish Beard," which is "Questionable" on the Trustworthiness chart, although that seems silly because the Amish are generally quite trustworthy... oh, the places an over-caffeinated mind will go.
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ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteMy last post needed an editor, go figure. I'm sure you figured out what I meant but here's what it should have said:
ReplyDeleteThanks Melissa for the complements on my semi-mature-juvenalia!
Amanda, I was hoping you'd take the bait! :)
And I want to get to this before Mike does...
The key is in the word "bard" in that he's reminding us that he speaks not simply for himself (lyrically) but for the many (bardically). The "egotism" is a tough one, but if he is simply pointing out that each of us is most centered on our view of ourselves is he not simply being honest?
"Effuse" is also an interesting choice because it can mean "to pour out" and he does use it that way elsewhere...so he could be "pouring out the ego to speak for the all"... Maybe?
I thought you might like the second quote--at 18 years old--that really hit me hard...and stuck!
Thanks for reading!
I guess my underlying problem is still in that idea that he somehow gets to appoint himself the bard/God-like figure. Who died and made you Shakespeare, Walt? (Although I have great disdain for Shakespeare as well, but at least he came by the title semi-honestly.) It's not so much because he's trying to speak for everyone, because a good poet should be universal, but because he's so aware (and wants you to be aware too) that he is.
ReplyDelete"Egotism" and "effuse" don't bother me as much, because I like your interpretation of those words and of that line as a whole, but even beyond this poem it irks me that his poetic voice is anything but humble. Maybe it's a convention of transcendentalism that I just don't get, but it's so far removed from my poetic voice as to be offputting... am I making any sense?
Well, who died and made Shaxper Homer? Oh, that's right, it was Harold Bloom.
ReplyDeleteIt's too bad you couldn't have been here both semesters. We would have had some nice discussions.
To keep it short, Dr. Emerson's to blame for the Whitmonster.See RWE's essay, "The Poet" to see the monster's birth, then read WW's "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" outloud to yourself, then read Langston Hughes' essay on Whitman's Bardic I"...and then you'll feel the same way you do now :)
I know that guy in the picture...
ReplyDelete...and in the poetry.
I hope he's happier, but I miss him anyway.
Thanks, Jeff! I miss him sometimes too, but he is definitely happy. In fact, I remember a certain day in March a dozen years ago in a McDonalds somewhere between Atchison and Zion National Park when I told you I had found what I thought was happiness--a dozen years and two little boys later and I'm still right. Thanks for being there then and for coming here now.
ReplyDeleteHappy Mother's day, my friend. When you get back to the farm let me know--we'll meet half way for waffles.
Send my love to Amy and the family!