a poem slept
the poem slept
nobody knew it slept
it did not know itself that it slept
it slept like a baby
and that was refreshing
it refreshed itself before it was born
as babies do
it did not then know itself that it slept
but when it woke up it knew that it had slept
while it slept this poem had a dream
it was a good dream
it did not know that it was a dream
it dreamed itself awake
but when it woke up it remembered
that it had had a dream
it remembered that it was a dream
when it was awake
when it woke up
it remembered itself
and dressed appropriately
and told itself to friends and strangers
it told itself the same way to friends and strangers
that was its duty because it was
it did not mind whether they were friends or strangers
because it was a poem
I know
I know this
I know this because
I know this because there is a because
I know this because the poem told me
I know this because the poem told me it had a name
A poem about Gertrude Stein
Nice commentary on Stein and her work even as you incorporate her devices to make the poem. Good work.
I confess I don't know who she is but I'm learning. This is a good flowing poem and I've used the scale approach too in a few things I wrote. It makes for a very nice effect, titillates, builds suspense, and in this case the revelation, the unraveling was worth it. Sincerement R.
This is nicely done, Michael, but even so, I personally have never been ready for Gertrude Stein. Even this sounds like parody...laughable. I compare this with 'The Sound of Cities' that you posted this morning and find Gertrude Stein to be an illusion. Raynette
Very nicely done. Stein was a giant in the Modernist movement. Very underappreciated.
Stein was a true Modernist, and probably a true genuis. But even in the Roaring Twenties, the world was still not ready for her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'So that is poetry really loving the name of anything and that is not prose.' - Gertrude Stein.