Poetics and Poetry Discussion


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  • Rookie - 920 Points Mike Acker (4/17/2014 5:36:00 PM) Post reply

    You forgot the poem, JC.

    In the meantime, here is one of my favourites of his...

    A Book Full of Pictures

    Father studied theology through the mail
    And this was exam time.
    Mother knitted. I sat quietly with a book
    Full of pictures. Night fell.
    My hands grew cold touching the faces
    Of dead kings and queens.

    There was a black raincoat
    in the upstairs bedroom
    Swaying from the ceiling,
    But what was it doing there?
    Mother's long needles made quick crosses.
    They were black
    Like the inside of my head just then.

    The pages I turned sounded like wings.
    " The soul is a bird, " he once said.
    In my book full of pictures
    A battle raged: lances and swords
    Made a kind of wintry forest
    With my heart spiked and bleeding in its branches.
    Charles Simic

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