Rita Dove


Ludwig Von Beethoven's Return To Vienna - Poem by Rita Dove

So when my proud city spread
her gypsy skirts, I reentered;
she burned a greater, constant light.
Call me rough, ill-tempered, slovenly- I tell you,
every tenderness I have ever known
has been nothing
but thwarted violence, an ache
so permanent and deep, the lightest touch
awakens it - it is impossible
to care enough. I have returned
with a second Symphony
and 15 Piano Variations
which I've named Prometheus,
after the rogue Titan, the half-a-god
who knew the worst sin is to take
what cannot be given back.
I smile and bow, and the world is loud.
And though I dare not lean in to shout
Can't you see that I'm deaf?
I also cannot stop listening.

Form: Dramatic Monologue


Comments about Ludwig Von Beethoven's Return To Vienna by Rita Dove

  • Drtony Brahmin (9/9/2019 4:18:00 AM)

    every tenderness I have ever known
    has been nothing
    but thwarted violence, an ache
    so permanent and deep, the lightest touch
    awakens it.. cant you see that i am dead.. very fine poem. tony
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  • (5/15/2014 7:02:00 AM)

    How music can take us so far out of our crowded thoughts. (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, February 22, 2014

Poem Edited: Monday, December 1, 2014


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