Thursday, May 7, 2009

The boy with a crack in his heart.

I continue to be heavily influenced by Yeats. The original to this poem is actually much longer than the VideO'em. I post them both here so you may contrast the two. Obviously the self imposed style and length of my videos which the bIRD has labeled "future primitive aesthetic" forces me to work with a finite quantity of words. This then necessitates creating two almost completely different poems. "Variations on a theme" if you will.






How the poet was hit in the head by the rock he threw:


How could he be so ignorant

of the old stone cross he bares


How could he live so innocent

of the world asleep unawares


Loam rises up while

arbutus tumbles down


the ever-changing surface

the loosening of the ground


The boy with a crack in his heart

the man looking back at the start


the wane of love having besot them

their weary souls must part


The naive years

of youth that come to naught


awaken old memories

fierce and lofty calling to the mind


old words

like children who've strayed


If we blame love

we may as well blame the wind


for the infinite shape

of words.



I have stayed away from Yeats for most of my life. To begin with, I have been told many times that we look similar. Over the years I have been told that my poetry resembled Yeats's as well. At this point [age] in my life I am no longer intimidated by the idea of influence. I am convinced that I will absorb and continue to metamorphose as a Poet. I can't be separated from "The Collected Poems" at this point. I carry it everywhere. If at 51 Yeats had 30 years of love and productivity ahead of him then perhaps I will also.

My favorite poem at the moment is # 93 "Words". It speaks to me as if I had written it myself. In fact I have. In many other poems with many other "Words".


obeedúid~

07/may/09


1 comment:

  1. That's good news!! I just love Yeats and really felt a huge emotional tug when I visited his gravestone and read the inscription. Bought a copy of all or most of his poems in Ireland and it is very well-worn. So glad he has entered your life. My favorite is "The Song of Wandering Angus" which can bring me to tears quite easily. "When you are old and grey" is another favorite of mine. What a guy. Next you'll be trying Byron.

    Cheers, Cathy

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