Don't let that horse -- Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Guest poem submitted by Dale Rosenberg:

(Poem #1836) Don't let that horse Don't let that horse eat that violin cried Chagall's mother But he kept right on painting And became famous And kept on painting The Horse With Violin In Mouth And when he finally finished it he jumped up upon the horse and rode away waving the violin And then with a low bow gave it to the first naked nude he ran across And there were no strings attached -- Lawrence Ferlinghetti

I was surprised to see that only two of Ferlinghetti's poems have made it to
minstrels.  He's my favorite of the Beat poets, and this is one of my
favorite poems of his.  I love his exuberance and the sheer *fun* of his
poems.  In this one I admire his ability to use humor without snarkiness, to
convey the joy of creation of art.  I saw him read this one when I was in
high school.  I can still see his smile at the last line and hear the
audience's happy laughter.

Dale Rosenberg.

Sandinista Avioncitos -- Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Guest poem sent in by Sashidhar Dandamudi

(Poem #1114) Sandinista Avioncitos The little airplanes of the heart with their brave little propellers What can they do against the winds of darkness even as butterflies are beaten back by hurricanes yet do not die They lie in wait wherever they can hide and hang their fine wings folded and when the killer-wind dies they flutter forth again into the new-blown light live as leaves -- Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Patten's poem submitted by Nandini [Poem #1084] triggered a rememberance of
this poem.  I read it in a Metro bus one day (as a part of the Poetry In
Motion project) and it has stayed with me since then. This poem evoked and
still evokes in me "Great Expectations" after the "hurricanes" to go forth
into the wind "live as leaves". And since trees will soon change colors and
leaves will fall, the imagery somehow adds to the current season, a positive
vibe. This is quite unlike Rilke's Autumn.

And if nothing else the poem should go forth on to the list for the
*complexity*  (O(n^2)) of the title!! ;-)

Sashi

Links:
  The Poetry in Motion project:
    [broken link] http://www.mta.nyc.ny.us/nyct/pim/pg_1.htm
    [broken link] http://www.poetrysociety.org/motion/mapsite/pimpoems/newyork/ny.html

The pennycandystore beyond the El -- Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Thanks to Sonya Bhagat for introducing me to today's poem

(Poem #614) The pennycandystore beyond the El The pennycandystore beyond the El is where I first fell in love with unreality Jellybeans glowed in the semi-gloom of that september afternoon A cat upon the counter moved among the licorice sticks and tootsie rolls and Oh Boy Gum Outside the leaves were falling as they died A wind had blown away the sun A girl ran in Her hair was rainy Her breasts were breathless in the little room Outside the leaves were falling and they cried Too soon! too soon! -- Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Note: The El was the New York City '9th Avenue Elevated' railway line

Today's poem touches upon another of my favourite themes - the magic
unreality that childhood can imbue the world with. The pennycandystore (and
don't you just love the way it's runtogetherasoneword?) takes on the aspect
of an enchanted cave, a little enclave of magic, wonder and, of course,
candy offering a retreat from the grey September day.

The contrasting images are nicely drawn - the glowing jellybeans and the cat
atop the counter within, and without, the rain, the sunlessness, and the
'leaves falling as they died'. And as a distinct chord, there's the fact
that the half-light, the rainy autumnal setting has a magic all its own - a
slightly more personal reading of the poem, perhaps, but one borne out by
phrases like 'a wind had blown away the sun', and the girl whose hair was
'rainy'. It's mostly the connotations of the words - 'wet' is damp, sodden,
unattractive. 'Rainy' is little drops of water sparkling even in the
semi-gloom of the afternoon, complementing the image of the flushed,
'breathless' girl.

Of course, the symbolism in the last verse is a gloomy reminder that all
this is evanescent, that childhood passes too soon. But, as the girl running
into the candy store seems to proclaim, for the moment, it doesn't really
matter, does it?

Biography:

Levi Asher's 'Literary Kicks' site has an excellent biography and assessment
of Ferlinghetti. Quoting a bit I particularly liked

  Ferlinghetti is still active today as a poet and as the proprietor of City
  Lights. I hope I won't seem politically incorrect for saying this, but
  after immersing myself in the writings of the guilt-obsessed asexual Jack
  Kerouac, the ridiculously horny Allen Ginsberg and the just plain sordid
  William S. Burroughs ... it's nice to read a few poems by a guy who can
  get excited about a little penny candy store under the El or a pretty
  woman letting a stocking drop to the floor.
        -- http://www.litkicks.com/People/LawrenceFerlinghetti.html

I'd strongly encourage you to go read the full thing, and explore the rest
of the site while you're at it.

Links:

For a beautiful page on the El, complete with pictures, see
[broken link] http://www.nycsubway.org/irt/irt-els/9th-ave-el.html

Penny candy seems to be a dying tradition, albeint one being revived by
nostalgists. See http://lkwdpl.org/lore/lore148.htm for example.

Let me recommend once again the Literary Kicks site http://www.litkicks.com,
a vibrant paean to the Beat generation, and Asher's other project, a
self-styled 'web album' entitled 'Queensboro Ballads' which no lover of NYC
should miss, at http://www.levity.com/brooklyn/.

The first poem today's called to mind was Millay's 'The Unexplorer',
poem #49

Not far behind it was Heaney's 'Song', poem #61

And, on the New York front, 'Teasdale's Central Park at Dusk', poem #464

-martin