|The Novelist And Me, CHallenge 9
By JAM on 03/28/2011
W. H. Auden
Encased in talent like a uniform,
The rank of every poet is well known;
They can amaze us like a thunderstorm,
Or die so young, or live for years alone.
They can dash forward like hussars: but he
Must struggle out of his boyish gift and learn
How to be plain and awkward, how to be
One after whom none think it worth to turn.
For, to achieve his lightest wish, he must
Become the whole of boredom, subject to
Vulgar complaints like love, among the Just
Be just, among the Filthy filthy too,
And in his own weak person, if he can,
Must suffer dully all the wrongs of Man.
Online text © 1998-2011 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
Written c. 1939
Unknown to Understand
For never in truth are glamour
We trudge the trenches of rhyme
The AB & BAA
The Sonata, The Metaphor, The Crime
We sound of whispers of writers
Unheard cause we’re elegant to a point
A point where legends are studied
By unwilling students, forced to anoint
May we go down in solitude
As dancers of word worse than law
Nobody understands the deep poets
Wilderness is our residence that will awe
© By JAM On 3/28/2011 1:18:49 PM