Post more comments
Want a gift card for being active Forum member? Post comments and win $25 gift card every week.
Rules:
PoemHunter.com will be giving away Amazon.com gift cards (worth $75 in total) every week to first three members ($25 each) who participate most in our forum discussions. You just have to post comments on forum pages, poet pages or poem pages anywhere inside PoemHunter.com
Comments posted needs to be in different pages. Posting more than 1 comment on the same page will only be counted once.
Members can not post comments without being logged in.
PoemHunter.com has the right to cancel or edit this contest.
PoemHunter.com has a right to disqualify or ban member(s) without providing any type of reason, belief or proof in regards to any type of illegal activity or fraud.

Lola Ridge

(December 12, 1873- May 19, 1941 / Dublin)

In Harness


I

The foreman's head slowly circling… White rims under yellow disks of eyes…. Gold hairs starting out of a blond scowl… Hovering… disappearing… recurring… the foreman's head.

Droning of power-machines… droning of girl with adenoids… Arms flapping with a fin-like motion under sun burning down through a sky-light like a glass lid. Light skating on the rims of wheels… boring in gimlet points. Needles flickering fierce white threads of light fine as a wasp's sting. Light in sweat-drops brighter than eyes and calico-pallid faces and bodies throwing off smells— and the air a bloated presence pressing on the walls and the silence a compressed scream.

Allons enfants de la patrie— Electric… piercing… shrill as a fife the voice of a little Russian breaks out of the shivered circle. Another voice rises… another and another leaps like flame to flame. And life—surging, clamorous, swarming like a rabble crazily fluttering ragged petticoats— comes rushing back into torpid eyes like suddenly yielded gates.

The girl with adenoids rocks on her hams. A torrent of song strains at her throat, gurgles, rushes, gouges her blocked pipes. Her feet beat a wild tattoo— head flung back and pelvis lifting to the white body of the sun. Mates now, these two— goddess and god…. Marchons!

Only the power machines drone with metallic docility under the flaxen head of the foreman poised like an amazed gull.

II

To-day
little French merchant men
with pointed beards
and fat American merchant men
without any beards
drive to a feast of buttered squabs.
The band… accoutered and neatly caparisoned…
plays the Marseillaise….
And I think of a wild stallion… newly caught…
flanks yet taut and nostrils spread
to the smell of a racing mare,
hitched to a grocer's cart.

Submitted: Wednesday, February 08, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, February 08, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (In Harness by Lola Ridge )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Prayer of a Tree, Bill Cantrell
  2. COPLA SESENTA Y UNO: This Bad Guy World, T (no first name) Wignesan
  3. Niagara, Nassy Fesharaki
  4. ADEEB QUDSI, THE GREAT MEMORY اديب قدسي .., MOHAMMAD SKATI
  5. Purposeful Truths, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  6. died in faith, kyvin nash
  7. A Lasting Rhythm, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  8. Raising Children Without Hatred, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  9. Back In The Eighties, Anthony Di'anno
  10. Fires Of Blazing Thoughts, RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Poem of the Day

poet Robert William Service

Three times I had the lust to kill,
To clutch a throat so young and fair,
And squeeze with all my might until
No breath of being lingered there.
Three times I drove the demon out,
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]