We were to work on some scraps that we have had from previous thoughts or parts of poems. This was inspired as I worked out listening to `Tiepolo`s Hound` by Derek Walcott.
Walcott Spoke to Me Once
Walcott spoke to me once
He spoke of Venice and light
And Tiepolo’s dog—and something
About museums. I missed that
While I held my breath
in the moment of the image
before.
And then gasping, envious and awe-
Stricken, I wondered
How twenty minutes of burning
Had slipped away under the spell
Of his voice, Venice and a painting
That may or may not be
A figment of his poetic, artistic
Imagination
Dark walls disintegrated
Noisy machines on which I plodded
Aimless
Fell away, morphed into canals
the walks of his quest
With the burning of tired legs
The rank smell of sweat and oil
Soothed away. Annoying
Drone of soap opera, inane gym chatter
And my own heaviness shuddering
With each step
Melted and shrunk
As Walcott spoke to me
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7 comments:
Has that effect, doesn't it?
It is an amazing feat, that poem. Quite literally took my breath away. We say that all the time, "took my breath away," and we don't really mean it. But this poem is a masterpiece.
I meant Walcott's is a masterpiece, not mine. :)
This poem is wonderful. Thanks for posting it.
I have been listening to Walcott read an extract from his poem and can understand how you might be carried on his Venetian tide while everything melts away. Good poem.
This is lovely Lori.
Pamela
thanks all! If anything is lovely from this, it is only due to Walcott's influence. He's a great poet. And if you haven't read his work, I highly recommend it! Better yet, listen to him read.
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