I have a terrible ear for writing poetry with a rigid meter (i.e. iambic pentameter, trochaic hexameter, etc.), so I was pleased to discover a poet who can and does write good verse with strict meter: Richard Weismiller. I really like a poem of his called “Sea Horse,” so I looked up some of his other work. His collection The Deer Come Down is made up mostly of poems about nature. I don’t like all of it, but there are some wonderful moments. Like this line: “This is my world; though it turn brown / And throw its loveliest tenants down / with unseen wind…” I’m typing out all of “Wintergreen” (even though it’s pretty long and I should be working) because I just love the way it sounds. Read it aloud to yourself. (Ignore the bullets. It was the only way to outsmart WordPress and maintain the line breaks. Pretty ingenious, huh?)
Wintergreen
- Pithed with a pungent
- silver flame,
- cloaked with fire,
- you had the name
- once of carpeting,
- whole and sweet
- the grass at the cattle’s
- straying feet
- along the tumbling
- pasture fence,
- and where the alders
- crouched in dense
- matting of moss
- on sculptured clay
- you touched your cheeks
- to the single, gray
- strand of water
- that spread and curled
- between the hills
- at the edge of the world.
- I have come back
- to the blotched skies
- and the crows calling
- in hoarse surmise
- out of the rocky
- planted fields;
- having received
- more barren yields
- I have returned
- to the sour land,
- to the hidden rock
- and the idle sand.
- But I knew beauty
- on a time,
- here where the throaty
- bell-notes chime
- out of the swamp
- where the frog lies
- blinking his shallow
- yellow eyes;
- and I have learned
- the the partridge drums,
- feathered ruffed,
- and the deer comes
- wary and light
- beneath the trees
- only in quiets
- dim as these.
- The heaped cloud
- shoulders and lurches
- across the sky,
- and the white birches
- bend to the wind
- in downward flight,
- their palms turned out
- on the silver light.
- I have come back
- to the close hills
- laced with their secret
- threading rills,
- and the high pastures,
- wild and sweet,
- pocked with the prints
- of cattle’s feet
- draw me, string
- of a sure bow,
- from the calm valley
- spread below.
- In the clenched brambles
- beside the path
- a chipmunk chatters
- its vagrant wrath,
- and a cropped apple,
- writhing, stands
- its heart pierced
- with its own hands.
- These will show me
- on any morrow
- facile hate
- and a haggard sorrow;
- but here are alders:
- down the slope
- their branches tangle
- like weathered rope
- sprung out of water;
- from their height
- a woodcock whistles
- its stinging flight,
- and I remember
- the pungent note
- formed in a younger
- flame-swept throat.
- Here are alders:
- the roots toss
- and writhe in the damp
- and starry moss;
- delicate murder
- in my heart
- and my lips prepared
- for their Judas part,
- I thrust aside
- the fingering hedge,
- kneeling down
- at the water’s edge
- where wintergreen berries
- one by one
- turn crimson cheeks
- to a gust of sun.
It’s funny that, even though the sentences within the poem are really long, Weismiller manages not to tire us out. He instead uses the line breaks as punctuation to slow us down and to create a rhythm that becomes hypnotic. I hope you enjoyed it.
On a different note: Please join me and other bloggers (like June,the creator of Friday Fact) for the first Fact Friday. We are a group that embraces and encourages “unrestrained exuberance“ for the beauty and wonder of the world around us. Because there are an infinite number of things to be curious about, and an infinite number of things to become passionate about. To have your own Friday Fact, all you have to do is post one fascinating thing that you have learned recently. As a Fact Freak, your only other prerequisite is an insatiable, undying thrist for knowledge that can be found in the minutia of everyday life. If you do decide to do it, drop me a note in my comments. I’m pretty durn excited myself.
October 5, 2007 at 1:02 pm |
…Blue Ridge Blue Collar Girl wrote a wonderful post last month describing how excited she was when she recently ran into a weirdly wonderful fact about the natural world.
She wasn’t alone in her excitement about new and interesting facts. Readers have left 28 comments on her post so far.
And from the comments made on that September post, the “Friday Fact” meme was born. Of course, I was in…
Your Friday Fact:
http://jennifersaylor.wordpress.com/2007/10/05/your-friday-fact/
October 5, 2007 at 2:14 pm |
Ariel, thank you for introducing me to a new poet that isn’t afraid of rhyme and meter. I’ll look forward to reading more of his poetry. And I am most definitely in for Friday Fact. In fact, like you, I am pretty durn excited. June already has one up about Louis Braille that is a fascinating read. And Jennifer Saylor’s Friday Fact is a most enlightening read, as well. I have one up, too, about Aeschylus: When Bald is Bad.
October 5, 2007 at 2:48 pm |
[...] Lucky Pennies sweepings off the floor of the world « Lovely tenants, threading rills, and Fact Freaks. [...]
October 5, 2007 at 5:03 pm |
How nice. A poet
With rhythm and rhyme.
Because you know
It’s not a crime.
And Fact Friday, too
How nice you all seek
To learn something new
In every week.
In these days of sound bites
That aren’t always true,
It’s nice that you cite
A bite you can chew.
October 6, 2007 at 2:51 am |
Oh, I loved your fact! How incredibly neat to learn. I’m in, but my post is not nearly as interesting as it is on the Brussel(s) Sprout. shannon