2.21.2007

before I begin blogging about the corruption in recruitment through closed searches through headhunters, especially to load boards, the opposition of modernism and entertainment, and the shocking inadvisability of white men self publishing dialect poems,

AND the self-satisfaction of those who sacrifice more, and less, to perputuate medicocre poetry, I want to post some poems from Harriet Monroe and James Laughlin -- and make some observations about imaginsm and what not, maybe orientalism and modernism


On the Porch

By Harriet Monroe


AS I lie roofed in, screened in,

From the pattering rain,

The summer rain—

As I lie

Snug and dry,

And hear the birds complain:


Oh, billow on billow,

Oh, roar on roar,

Over me wash

The seas of war.

Over me—down—down—

Lunges and plunges

The huge gun with its one blind eye,

The armored train,

And, swooping out of the sky,

The aeroplane.

Down—down—

The army proudly swinging

Under gay flags,

The glorious dead heaped up like rags,

A church with bronze bells ringing,

A city all towers,

Gardens of lovers and flowers,

The round world swinging

In the light of the sun:

All broken, undone,

All down—under

Black surges of thunder …


Oh, billow on billow

Oh, roar on roar,

Over me wash

The seas of war …


As I lie roofed in, screened in,

From the pattering rain,

The summer rain—

As I lie

Snug and dry,

And hear the birds complain.

the refrain is a shitty move, and it is difficult to believe that Monroe included it in 1917; I don't have a manuscript, there's also some period punctuation -- it is pre-armistice wwi, tho, so who is our comparison this early as far as anti war poetry?


On the Porch

By Harriet Monroe


As I lie roofed in, screened in,

from the pattering rain,

the summer rain—

snug and dry, I hear the birds complain.

I like the "in" and "rain / complain" eye rhyme


billow on billow,

roar on roar,

The seas of war wash Over me
10
—down—down— plunges

The huge gun with its one blind eye,

The armored train,

And, out of the sky, The airplane.

Down—down—

The army proudly swings Under gay flags,

The glorious dead heaped like rags,



A church with bronze bells ringing,

A city all towers,

Gardens of lovers and flowers,

The round world swinging

In the light of the sun

broken, undone,

down—under Black thunder

so, change some line breaks, do a little worshop tweaking like we pick up and do in mfa programs, or the evcen more interminable creative writing or low res english lit phd programs, et voila!

http://www.darsie.net/library/monroe.html

Step on His Head

"Let's step on daddy's head",
Shout the children, my dear children, As we walk in the country On a sunny summer day.
My shadow bobs dark on the road as we walkAnd they jump on its head, and
my love for themFills me all full of soft feelings.
Now I duck with my head, so they'll miss when they jumpAnd they screech with delight, and I moan"Oh, you're hurting, you're hurting me! Stop!"
And they jump all the harder,And love fills the whole road.
But I see it run on throught the years,And I know how someday they must jump and it won'tBe this shadow, but really my headAs I stepped on my own father's head.
It will hurt, really hurt,And I wonder if then, if I'll have enough love.Will I have love enough when it's not just a game?

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