Tuesday, February 23, 2016

Your Poem, My Poem

"If this moon doesn't change you . . .
Not enough for me
that this moon shines in your eye . . .
I want this moon to be in your mind . . . "

See also "Your Poem, Man . . .

by Christopher Logue

If this book doesn’t change you
give it no house space;
if having read it you
are the same person you
were before picking it up,
then throw it away.

Not enough for me
that my poems shine in your eye;
not enough for me
that they look from your walls
or lurk on your shelves;
I want my poems to be in your mind
so you can say them when you are in love
so you can say them when the plane takes off
and death comes near;
I want my poems to come between
the raised stick and the cowering back,
I want my poems to become
a weapon in your trembling hands,
a sword whose blade both makes and mirrors change;
but most of all I want my poems sung
unthinkingly between your lips like air.

[Now, try substituting the words
"Moon or Photos" for "Book / Poems"]

See also "What Do Writers Want?"

by W.S. Merwin

. . . reader I do
not know that anyone
else is waiting for these
words that I hoped might seem
as though they had occurred
to you and you would take
them with you as your own

by Linda Pastan

Finding a new poet
is like finding a new wildflower
out in the woods . . .

And the words are so familiar,
so strangely new, words
you almost wrote yourself, if only

in your dreams there had been a pencil
or a pen or even a paintbrush,
if only there had been a flower.

. . . or a moon . . .
Such as this one by Jay Beets,
whose photographs are guaranteed to change you!
As my friend Burnetta wrote, in response to
The Last Full Moon of Winter:
"Why do we long for the winters of our youth?
(At least I do, the winters of my imagination.
Were they even real?)"

No comments:

Post a Comment