If you do you might be able to help me out with this :o). I need a few poems for my Introduction to English Literature course. The ones I need by now (this means I might be bothering you with this issue again xD) are by Charles Simic and Robert Lowell, but I can't find them :o(. So, if anyone has this poems or knows where I can find them on the web, please let me know! :o) You can post the poems here on the board, or send me a PM. Your help will be very much appreciated.
Well, the poems I need are:
*Charles Simic
- Stone.
- October Light.
- My Weariness of Epic Proportions.
- Tapestry.
- My Shoes.
*Robert Lowell
- The Spell.
- Burial.
- Our After Life I, Our After Life II.
Go inside a stone
That would be my way.
Let somebody else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger's tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.
From the outside the stone is a riddle:
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight,
Even though a child throws it in a river;
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
And listen.
I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed,
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill--
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star-charts
On the inner walls.
My Weariness of Epic Proportions
I like it when
Achilles
Gets killed
And even his buddy Patroclus--
And that hothead Hector--
And the whole Greek and Trojan
Jeunesse doree
Is more or less
Expertly slaughtered
So there's finally
Peace and quiet
(The gods having momentarily
Shut up)
One can hear a bird sing
And a duaghter ask her mother
Whether she can go to the well
And of course she can
By that lovely little path
That winds through
The olive orchard
Tapestry
by Charles Simic
It hangs from heaven to earth.
There are trees in it, cities, rivers,
small pigs and moons. In one corner
the snow falling over a charging cavalry,
in another women are planting rice.
You can also see:
a chicken carried off by a fox,
a naked couple on their wedding night,
a column of smoke,
an evil-eyed woman spitting into a pail of milk.
What is behind it?
—Space, plenty of empty space.
And who is talking now?
—A man asleep under his hat.
What happens when he wakes up?
—He’ll go into a barbershop.
They’ll shave his beard, nose, ears, and hair,
To make him look like everyone else.
My Shoes
by Charles Simic
Shoes, secret face of my inner life:
Two gaping toothless mouths,
Two partly decomposed animal skins
Smelling of mice nests.
My brother and sister who died at birth
Continuing their existence in you,
Guiding my life
Toward their incomprehensible innocence.
What use are books to me
When in you it is possible to read
The Gospel of my life on earth
And still beyond, of things to come?
I want to proclaim the religion
I have devised for your perfect humility
And the strange church I am building
With you as the altar.
Ascetic and maternal, you endure:
Kin to oxen, to Saints, to condemned men,
With your mute patience, forming
The only true likeness of myself.
I found one called "October Arriving" but not "October Light."
Burial
(FOR ------------- )
Six or seven swallows drag the air,
their fast play of flight unbroken
as if called by a voice –
the flies become fewer about my head.
A longwinded wasp stumbles on me,
marauding, providing, as if about to sting –
patting, smelling me, caught
in the carnivorous harmony of nature.
The small girl has set a jagged chip
of sandstone on the grave of a crow,
chalked with white Gothic like a valentine:
“For Charlie who died last night.”
Your father died last month,
he is buried . . . not too deep to lie
alive like a feather
on the top of the mind.
Beat poet Lew Welch wrote the catch phrase , " Raid kills bugs dead " during a brief stint in advertising .
Probaly the most well known piece writtin by a poet ever ? . It bothered him that nothing he wrote would be as well known as that so he walked off into the Sierra mountains and never been seen again .
Beat poet Lew Welch wrote the catch phrase , " Raid kills bugs dead " during a brief stint in advertising .
Probaly the most well known piece writtin by a poet ever ? . It bothered him that nothing he wrote would be as well known as that so he walked off into the Sierra mountains and never been seen again .
That's a VERY interesting fact!
But I'm sorry Alma..Wished i knew something about poetry so I could help you out..But I'm hopeless=S
Good Luck with that nonetheless=)
Kayte, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!! :oD. I really needed those for my class today. I won't have them all, but at least I won't have none ;o). Thanks again!
Wow, Ric, that is very interesting indeed! For this course I'm only gonna read something by Allen Ginsberg. I think he belonged to the Beat generation, right?
Wow, Ric, that is very interesting indeed! For this course I'm only gonna read something by Allen Ginsberg. I think he belonged to the Beat generation, right?
errr. you have to read those poems for a class and they're not available in any book in a library at your university? that's odd...
have you checked the poetry sections in the library for the authors, themes, epoch, everything? (I guess you have, stupid question...)
errr. you have to read those poems for a class and they're not available in any book in a library at your university? that's odd...
have you checked the poetry sections in the library for the authors, themes, epoch, everything? (I guess you have, stupid question...)
