Ode on a Grecian Urn is one of my all time favorite poems. If we bury it with the past we'll forget the reasons for writing poetry. Thank you for this important revival. Here's a recent ode of mine:
Ode to Raspberries
O apples plum pregnant with fall O maize all souls turned yellow & gold apples squashes carrots & gourds coming up & up & falling from the sky O icicles hours days rooms & everything stored in jars & cellars fermenting dried & brandied O deep potatoes breathing O musk of close bodies O first beads of green O beads of green blood opening lettuce peas green onion chard subterranean spring having come up through the ice by the river through baby muck & mold sweeter than peonies O cascading trees & then O raspberries
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Ode on a Grecian Urn is one of my all time favorite poems. If we bury it with the past we'll forget the reasons for writing poetry. Thank you for this important revival. Here's a recent ode of mine:
Ode to Raspberries
O apples
plum pregnant with fall
O maize all souls turned yellow & gold
apples squashes carrots & gourds
coming up & up & falling from the sky
O icicles hours days rooms
& everything stored in jars
& cellars fermenting
dried & brandied O deep potatoes
breathing O musk of close bodies
O first beads of green O beads
of green blood opening
lettuce peas green onion chard subterranean
spring having come up through the ice
by the river through baby muck & mold
sweeter than peonies O cascading trees & then
O raspberries
Helen Degen Cohen
(aka Halina Degenfisz)
I like all the Os. Here's a watery one:
Ode of Pages
It’s that sort of encyclopedia,
This pond. Grey and white.
With those out of date notes
on the spine, and pages stitched in backward. Bought on installment plan, sort of a book club rendition.
All of the knowledge of the western world,set in a dirty bowl, swirling, without a drain.
The paper mache method of layering
the cortex deep with knowledge.
Pond fabled. Some of the blue
legends are true. Cinderella, after the divorce retired here with an artichoke.
She tosses geraniums,scenting the water with that white armed, slashed blue gown sometimes,
nibbling at mushrooms and pushing
the sides of cows gently.
Bowing to them.
In play. Blooming does not seem to require previous knowledge, only the aptitude to open.
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