"My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires and more slow" 
-Andrew Marvell, "To His Coy Mistress"

Our research into Milton's time period has reminded me about metaphysical poetry! Starting today, probably through Tuesday, I am going to read metaphysical poetry to get some sense of it, and research it as well. I will take notes and jot down any particularly interesting styles and methods. Then I will attempt to write a poem in that style--I'm sure it will be difficult, since that poetry is vastly different from contemporary in its elevated quality and of course, the conceits.

I'm going to be honest here and say I didn't really get anything done this week. I worked on my napkin poem translation, but that's it. Still, next week, it doesn't look like there's much on my plate, so I will probably be able to extend my project somewhat farther.

I will aim to post again mid-week about the progress of my metaphysical poem.

Where am I getting all these quotes?

If you don't have the patience to Google all of these, here are the poems I have quoted from in my posts so far, as well as some Catullus and others I have mentioned.

"Poetry" is the source of my blog title and heading both, and it really captures how I feel about poetry ("there I was without a face, and it touched me"). If I start on Neruda, we'll be here all day, but check out the very sensual Sonnet XI, the complex love of Sonnet XVII, and the contrast between the achey "Keeping Quiet" and the wrenching "I Explain a Few Things." And if you can read him in Spanish, do it!

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is in my top five favorite poems, and it resonates with my feelings of uncertainty and inaction so deeply. 

"If" by ee cummings

(Check out two love poems from him that I adore, too--"i like my body when it is with your" and the incredibly romantic "somewhere i have never travelled.")

This one's so empowering: "You, If No One Else."

I love, love, love Siken, and if you love me, you will buy me his anthology Crush (not really--it'll probably be my birthday present this year). I quoted "Driving, Not Washing" (you probably can't open that link at school, but I promise it's not dodgy, and it has some of his other poems, too).

"Shoulders" is the sweetest poem ever, touching a chord of universal empathy. Naomi Shihab Nye is lovely in general.

"Termites: An Assay" is very different, short and punchy, but contemplative rather than provocative. I'm definitely not biased because I've got (MERS Coronavirus) assays on the brain.

Seamus Heaney is awesome--you may remember him from Beowulf. "Blackberry-Picking" is vivid and grounding in an ephemeral moment.

"Those Winter Sundays" made me cry. Something to remember around Father's Day.

"The Fish" reminds me of my own more immature style, interestingly. Not to say that Elizabeth Bishop is immature in any sense. It's a cleverly-executed poem with plenty of buildup. It's just the accumulation of detail that I feel is similar. The difference? Her closing sticks with you.

"Howl." Oh boy. Ginsberg. You beautiful mess.

To be edited with next week's! And hey, if no one looks at this (likely), it is at least a useful personal reference. I get broken-up bits of poems stuck in my head sometimes, so it's nice to have a list of likely culprits.

"angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night"
-Allen Ginsberg, "Howl" 

As always, Coffeehouse proves a font of poetic inspiration. For example, I have been enticed to revisit "Howl," (read aloud by Gowan) which I had disparaged upon my first reading two years ago (blasphemous for a lover of modern poetry). A warning to anyone who looks the poem up--the Beat poets were shocking for their time and still obscene today, so tread carefully.

Hello to my three commenters! I'm very flattered. I might try to put up some of my work on here by next Friday, but I have to confess that I'm cripplingly shy about it, so we'll see how that goes, I suppose.

Poetry is never predictable for me, and two days ago, I was struck by a bolt of inspiration and of course, I was electrified and captivated and the bell rang far too soon. So this week, I will aim to finish that poem. And return to my napkin-thief poem translation as well, doubly egged on by the reminder of a friend's napkin collection. Who collects napkins, anyway? Catullus and Amy Pan.

Next week will also be a week for a hundred visions and revisions (I go back to "Prufrock," always, always). I want to dig up a few old poems from last year and rework them with my new knowledge. One of those will probably end up being posted up here. I am also going to refine a poem from a month ago and flesh it out more thoroughly because it ties back to Friday's theme--I am writing out my feelings of inadequacy in the face of towers of demanding college applications.

Also inspired by Coffeehouse, I want to do a lighthearted little monologue sort of poem like two people (Arohi and Brendan) shared, just a snapshot of what a typical day is like. My poems last week were a lot more serious, as is the current one I'm working with, so this will be a change of pace just to keep me on my toes and not sinking down into the mire of artistic angst.