Petals

I'm blocked again and, what, five poems behind? I thought this might happen, but I really wasn't prepared for this particular onslaught at the beginning of the month. Probably something to do with the fact that this week will be a seventy hour week, minimum, and this is the first night in a while where I've gotten to come home on time rather than making lunch, feeding my cats, and going to bed. Still trying to catch up. It is what it is, so here's another poem and a story.

Though I've been interested in poetry for most of my life, I've never really had an interest in poetry workshops, mostly because I don't see the point in having others critiques in my head over something that's a personal hobby of mine. Because of this, the only poetry class I ever took was Modern Poetry during one of my last semesters at UNR. ( Read more... )

I rambled quite a bit in there about various topics, but the poem I want to share is this. I'm not a big fan of Ezra Pound, mostly because I find his modernist forms and reliance on references really stodgy and annoying, but this is one of the poems that came back to me years and years after I forgot most of what I learned in Modern Poetry. The brief haiku form broken so perfectly, it is in want of nothing.

"In a Station of the Metro"
By Ezra Pound
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.