Poem for Ones Who Know One When They See One

What W. H. Auden said
“In Memory of W. B. Yeats,”
not modified in the “guts”
or on the blog:
“For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives”
so there it is,
no one need worry.

“Encore! Encore! More! More!”
OK, ok, settle down;
this is no time for pathos, but,
“Wild nights – Wild Nights!”
Emily Dickinson reasoned,
racked with want on the windy,
open sea of her dainty,

daunting room of gloom,
and who knew better even
than the audible Auden
how poetry makes nothing
happen, again and again,
like seizures,
and so I give you this, this wildcalm night:

Poem for Ones
Who Know One
When
They See One:

Poem for Ones

2 Comments Add yours

  1. bristlehound says:

    Poems live to survive, therefore should they not survive then they never exist. And .. Should a poem survive is it surely cannot pretend to understand.
    Poems for ones who know; A knowledge hard won.B

    Like

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