Edward Steinhardt

Edward Steinhardt Poems

If it weren't enough
That the farms have gone for broke,
The two-child family awakens one morning
To find the farm machinery gone;

Lord, how can I pray
When my heart is hard as rock?
Lord, how can I pray
When I'm mute and cannot talk?

We are shadows thrown upon the wall.
We are images, what others see;
How we see ourselves, true-
Or what we think we perceive

for Ryan

You sat on the edge of my tub
As I ran the clippers

for Ryan

We are folded into one another
As only lovers can be.

for Ryan

The Southern Belle Supper Club.
A pianist, an ear-ring

Thou hast done well, cousin,
To accomplish at last the nuptial vow,

I came upon a brook the other day,
My step intrepid and sensing still
I stood,
Awash in wonder at its current soul

Forgive us Lord for the graven image.
We had them before Baal,
Ashtoreth, the golden calf.
Thy agonizing likeness

At times, it is the childhood scenario:
Losing the parents in the store or mall,
The puzzlement, the quickening panic,

We miss you already, Diana.
You came to us in the magic hour,
A blushing bride at St. Paul's.
We were there in the carriage

That's how it must have been
In the Old Days- the Train,
Like a roaring beast
Come to rock the babes in their dreams

Gentle Lamb, O so mild,
Stay with me a little while;
Let the sorrows in my keep
Bury in Thy whitened fleece.

'Woman places corpse of husband in closet.
Linah B-,64, said her husband died
In October 31 in either 1977 or 1978 and she
Put him in a closet because she

What is this thing of considerable size
That lies within our chest:
The heart,
That goes on beating, beating,

When I was a child
And my father pressed my small hand
Into his large one,
I did all I could do

Dear child, your Queen is dead,
The Germans have returned
To their borders;
That cursed Nazi shot himself,

It is sad that a man
Who has children,
Who loves them;
Worships them as he once was,

It was matter of fact
That your name came into conversation
The other day concerning the tragic news
Of your passing away:

The second time we met
It was at this place
Where the sand goes
Down to the sea.

Edward Steinhardt Biography

Edward Steinhardt is a poet and writer who lives in Saint Louis, Missouri, U.S.A. He worked in newspaper journalism for many years. Mr. Steinhardt was president of the Missouri Writer's Guild from 1994-1995. He produced Missouri Writers Week inaugural ceremonies for many years, which featured readings by Howard Nemerov, Richard Wilbur, Mona Van Duyn, Charles Guenther and others. Mr. Steinhardt produced Mr. Nemerov's last poetry reading in 1991. Journalism awards include Best Historical Article, Best Regularly-published Newspaper Column and Best Newspaper Article. His first book, The Painting Birds (1988) placed a Walter Williams Major Work Award. The book Dandelion Dreams and Other Poems (1999) was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize. 'Skilled, tasteful and delicate in feeling.' (-Howard Nemerov, on the poetry of Edward Steinhardt) 'This collection (Dandelion Dreams) is replete with honest and authentic American life in the finest traditions of such greatly neglected poets as Edgar Lee Masters, E.A. Robinson, Maxwell Bodenheim and others early in our century... Dandelion Dreams is the work of one touched by many ages and cultures- but it is an American original.' (Charles Guenther, from the Introduction) . 'Edward Steinhardt's poems move in a characteristic exploratory way, through scenes large or small, through memories, through relationships. They are highly readable- talkative, sympathetic, humane- and it is a pleasure to follow their courses. He can be precisely evocative, finding the odd in the ordinary, as in 'Sleeping in Sikeston.' Another good evocation is 'Walking the Tracks at Hermann, ' which he dedicates to his late friend Howard Nemerov. And I espcially enjoy the jauntiness of such engaging poems as 'Billiards' and 'Reruns.' (-Richard Wilbur, concerning Dandelion Dreams and Other Poems) 'These poems are fact of an enduring human attention to what values and feelings are still posible in our world. They are pledge and record, testament and persuasvie story, of a real life in a real time and place. Edward Steinhardt has learned his art with great determination and humility. His generous authority is clear in every page.' (-Robert Creeley, concerning Dandelion Dreams and Other Poems))

The Best Poem Of Edward Steinhardt

Oliver Twist

If it weren't enough
That the farms have gone for broke,
The two-child family awakens one morning
To find the farm machinery gone;
That into middle of night
Men violated darkness
With quiet sleight of hand
And loaded the John Deere,
Farmall, or International
Onto some semi-tractor trailer,
And made tracks out of rural America
To somewhere else.
The last American dream over coffee
Was only FmHA, the banker
And someone doing the work.

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