The Artist -- William Carlos Williams

(Poem #213) The Artist Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides stood on his toes heels together arms gracefully for the moment curled above his head. Then he whirled about bounded into the air and with an entrechat perfectly achieved completed the figure. My mother taken by surprise where she sat in her invalid's chair was left speechless. Bravo! she cried at last and clapped her hands. The man's wife came from the kitchen: What goes on here? she said. But the show was over. -- William Carlos Williams

One of those 'slice of life' poems which are so incredibly difficult to pull off
convincingly... I suppose the problem is that most of our lives are terribly
boring and humdrum; it takes a poet to find beauty and meaning in them, to give
voice to 'the music of what happens' [1].

thomas.

[1] A truly lovely phrase, don't you think? It's from Seamus Heaney's poem
'Song', Minstrels Poem #61

[Minstrels Links]

A Williams biography can be found at poem #83
along with the one poem of his that I've run before, 'The Red Wheelbarrow'.

More on Imagism can be found in the essay accompanying Amy Lowell's
'Generations', Minstrels poem #102

One of my favourite poems by an Imagist poet is Ezra Pound's 'The River
Merchant's Wife: A Letter', which you can read at poem #70

And of course, you can read all our other poems at
http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/

[Afterthought]

Re-reading the poem, I notice a distinct lengthening of the lines towards the
end. I'm not sure if this is intentional, but (this being a Williams poem) I
suspect that it is. And I can't quite put my finger on the 'poetic' effect of
this mode of construction... perhaps it has something to do with the rhythm of
the dancer and the tempo of the actions being portrayed. Comments, anyone?