Edward Wright Haile
Biography of Edward Wright Haile
From Essex County, Virginia, where I have lived nearly all my life. Bachelor of Music, Catholic University of America. Married, two sons grown. Many years a rural land surveyor. Musician, flute, flamenco guitar.
All of my books are available on amazon.com.
Re my translation of the Oresteia of Aeschylus. I tried mightily to find an Aeschylean form of idiomatic English so that the translation would sound to us the way the Greek sounded to his audience. I have been roundly criticized for succeeding. University Press of America,1993.
HOAM a poetry chapbook with a section of parodies of some of my favorite poets, Byron, Shelley, Cummings, Swinburne. And much more. None on Poemhunter.
ONG a poetry chapbook with a handful of translations at the end, include the two Sapphic odes in Sappho's original meters. I think it proves that English has syllabic quantity as well as primary stress just like Ancient Greek, though less flexible, and as distinct from Romance languages and modern German. The essays are short prose takes on subjects, Democracy, Art, Human Nature, etc. None of it on Poemhunter.
WNBHS is 800+ lines of free verse going over much of the same ground as Jamestown Narratives, with pen and ink illustrations by Marc Castelli. Divided into four days, deals with the clash of cultures (Europe vs native America) depicted in the clash of languages from the very first. No punctuation, therefore. None of it on Poemhunter.
Edward Wright Haile's Works:
Poems: Open, Not Glass (1995) : Here On A Mission (1999) : Where None Before Hath Stood (2006)
Translation: The Oresteia of Aeschylus (1993)
Prose (nonfiction) : Jamestown Narratives (1998) : John Smith in the Chesapeake (2008)
Edward Wright Haile Poems
A World Without People
… a world of birds and ponds, this world of camphor-scented glades, a new one in morning flames beyond each one
A Drive Through Caroline
I can put my finger on the still-wet picture and draw a fresh route in it down the middle. A new farm here, an old farm there
Men are trees long rotting the ground around them raining fruit, but truly lurk in ambush
A Bedtime Story
tell us another story said a little girl at the whip end of the last one on her skates letting go to go palms into a very soft night and so I swung one and all once again
Pharaoh thanks God he is God with the power to make animals into men for the end-species requires labor does not breed but is flogged into being
Blacksnake To An Angel
I am black therefore I rule all things aquiver in the ruby dark
Zz 176 A Valentine For Bess
I cannot magnify my heart’s embrace more than to say I love you, there’s an end. Unto all things a season and a place, but love has no enlargement, no amend.
An Essay On Evil
To read intention in a villain’s frown is worse than reading ripples in a river for the traces of those its acres drown, before they choose one of them to deliver.
A Mysterious Visitor
A white pigeon came perching on my roof. I watched him daily unfollowing and still; and neither ate nor filled his craw to trill the little boulders, but sat fluffed, aloof
Zz 319 If Friends And Lovers
If friend and lover were one and the same successively, who then could say what spoils belong to either left by the other’s claim? Til then the matter through definitions toils.
Zz 018 The Art Of Love
The art of love is practiced by four hands, sending up sonatas to the night in many-colored chords. The world’s delight is endless where the music of love lands.
Zz 118 Open Marriage
Open marriage, how soon it comes apart, regardless of what anybody says. They claim free lovers can preserve one heart. But who could counterfeit love’s offices
Zz 219 A Man Is Just A Man
A man is just a man, simply, compact, one thing, and husband, brother, father, son are roles or chores or duties needing done, put on but never move him off that fact.
Little Blue Flower
Little blue flower wagging with a bee, before the sun strikes shoal tell me why the night’s more sweet
Zz 075 Two Trains
Two trains depart on courses that collide
above an Asiatic river gorge,
and feed their cars into a tumbling surge,
three hundred estimated to have died.
Among them, sweethearts who had each entrained
(two mourning doves were sighing over space)
and unannounced had flown to reembrace,
in boiling currents form a single stain.