Hello my lovelies! How cool is it that we take a whole month to celebrate poetry? Very cool, in my opinion. I have said before that I may be the last person who actually buys and reads poetry, but I hope I'm not. There is something truly special about discovering a poem that speaks to you. So, occasionally, throughout the month, I'm going to introduce you to some of my favorite poems and poets. I suspect no one will read this, but it will give me a chance to revisit some amazing poems, so I'm OK with that. If you do stumble onto something you enjoy, that's just icing on the cake!
Today's poet is Theodore Roethke.
I Knew a Woman
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I'd have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek.)
Reply To a Lady Editor
If the Poem (beginning "I knew a woman, lovely in her bones")
in The London Times Literary Supplement
has not appeared here, we offer you $75 for it.
Could you wire us collect your answer?
Sincerely yours,
Alice S. Morris
Literary Editor, Harper's Bazaar
Sweet Alice S. Morris, I am pleased, of course,
You take the Times Supplement, and read its verse,
And know that True Love is more than a Life-Forse
- And so like my poem called Poem.
Dan Cupid, I tell you's a braw laddie-buck;
A visit from him is a piece of pure luck,
And should he arrive, why just lean yourself back
- And recite him my poem called Poem.
O print it, my dear, do publish it, yes,
That ladies their true natures never supress,
When they come, dazely, to the pretty pass
- Of acting my poem called Poem.
My darling, my dearest, most-honest-alive,
Just send me along that sweet seventy-five;
I'll continue to think on the nature of love,
- As I dance to my poem called Poem.
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I'd have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek.)
How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin:
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing did we make.)
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin:
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing did we make.)
Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved.)
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved.)
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways.)
I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways.)
Roethke was offered $75 dollars to allow the above poem to be published by Harper's Bazaar, his response is below:
Reply To a Lady Editor
If the Poem (beginning "I knew a woman, lovely in her bones")
in The London Times Literary Supplement
has not appeared here, we offer you $75 for it.
Could you wire us collect your answer?
Sincerely yours,
Alice S. Morris
Literary Editor, Harper's Bazaar
Sweet Alice S. Morris, I am pleased, of course,
You take the Times Supplement, and read its verse,
And know that True Love is more than a Life-Forse
- And so like my poem called Poem.
Dan Cupid, I tell you's a braw laddie-buck;
A visit from him is a piece of pure luck,
And should he arrive, why just lean yourself back
- And recite him my poem called Poem.
O print it, my dear, do publish it, yes,
That ladies their true natures never supress,
When they come, dazely, to the pretty pass
- Of acting my poem called Poem.
My darling, my dearest, most-honest-alive,
Just send me along that sweet seventy-five;
I'll continue to think on the nature of love,
- As I dance to my poem called Poem.
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