When they say Don't I know you? say no.
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.
If they say we should get together.
say why? It's not that you don't love them any more.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees.
The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished. When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf. Know you could tumble any second. Then decide what to do with your time.
------
What is your interpretation of this poem?



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/28/2005 03:16AM by lg.

Greasy sausage balls pretty much sums it up

If you wrote this, Ari, you should post it in User Submitted Poetry. If you didn't, can you tell us the author, and the title, or at least where you got the poem from?

The meaning of it seems plain enough. Someone offering someone else a few tips on how to resist being diverted by well meaning people into frittering away time on unimportant activities.

While I don't criticise that message, I don't think much of its presentation here as poetry. It has no rhythm, and the line lengths have no rationale. Could almost be a piece of prose from a self-help book, rather clumsily chopped up.

Ian

Should have Googled before asking you whether you wrote it.

I see now it's 'The Art of Disappearing' by American Arab poet Naomi Shihbab Nye.

[tinyurl.com]

Though the poem is quoted on that site in the form you have posted it, with a long last line, that's probably just an error in transcribing the interview with NSN. (There may be other line length errors too). Apparently that closing line should be divided into three, corresponding to the three sentences. At least that's how it's quoted on lots of other sites.

      Walk around feeling like a leaf.
      Know you could tumble any second.
      Then decide what to do with your time.

Those three closing lines obviously resonate with many people. The expression 'feeling like a leaf' is striking, and the carpe diem message is salutary. So those three lines are probably worth preserving.

I stick to my view that the rest of the poem hardly is. Others may disagree; but it's interesting that nobody picks out any part of the rest of the poem to quote on its own.

Ian



Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 12/23/2005 03:52AM by IanB.

Remind me not to ask Bill Moyer for poetry recommendations. I must have missed this one somehow, as I did not see the message until today. Looks like the original format may be different, as Ian notes, and having the title helps as well:


The Art of Disappearing by Naomi Shihab Nye

When they say Don't I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.

Is they say We should get together
say why?

It's not that you don't love them anymore.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble at any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.


Here is some more on Naomi:

[www.poets.org]

Once we have the title, I would think the interpretation becomes easier. She starts out saying it is better to be anonymous than gregarious. The three-line finish is probably the best part, but I am not sure how that is related to the 'be a loner' advice that went before. The ending seems to me merely a repetition (although well said) of one of the earliest exhortations around: Carpe diem.

does anyone know the meaning of the damn poems by Yeats- He remembers Forgotten Beauty.
When my arms wrap you round I press
My heart upon the loveliness
That has long faded from the world;
The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled
In shadowy pools, when armies fled;
The love-tales wrought with silken thread
By dreaming ladies upon cloth
That has made fat the murderous moth;
The roses that of old time were
Woven by ladies in their hair,
The dew-cold lilies ladies bore
Through many a sacred corridor
Where such grey clouds of incense rose
That only God's eyes did not close:
For that pale breast and lingering hand
Come from a more dream-heavy land,
A more dream-heavy hour than this;
And when you sigh from kiss to kiss
I hear white Beauty sighing, too,
For hours when all must fade like dew,
But flame on flame, and deep on deep,
Throne over throne where in half sleep,
Their swords upon their iron knees,
Brood her high lonely mysteries.

Having taken 'Yeats' as your username, you should show WBY some respect! If instead of swearing at his poetry you spend a little time reading this poem and paying attention to what the words say, you shouldn't find it hard to understand its meaning.

The main subject is flagged in the title ('forgotten beauty') and in the first three lines ('loveliness that has long faded from the world'). In other words, the theme is that beauty is doomed to fade and be lost.

You can ignore the fact that the poem title refers to 'he', while the poem is written in the first person. It's the same person.

The setting for the poet's thoughts is an embrace with the beloved ('when my arms wrap you round').

His thoughts about the transience/disappearance of beauty are elaborated with examples in lines 4 to 14.

The reference in line 14 to everyone but God being made drowsy by the burning of incense is a bridge to the last 10 lines in which (with the focus returning to the beloved) the poem characterises beauty as something emanating from and belonging to the world of dreams. Note also the reference to 'dreaming' in line 7.

In that dream domain, the poet imagines a female deity ('Beauty') sighing over the fact that 'all must fade like dew'. Dew, also mentioned in line 11, is an obvious metaphor for transience. The same may be said about dreams.

The adjectives 'pale' and 'white' reflect a time and culture in which pale complexions were admired as beautiful. The fact that paleness could also indicate terminal illness (as in Keats' poem 'La Belle Dame Sans Merci') fits with the theme.

The last four lines are the only ones in which the meaning is perhaps not so clear. I may be mistaken, but read 'But' as meaning 'Though', which enables the expressions 'flame on flame', 'deep on deep' and 'throne over throne' to be understood grammatically as referring to the fact that beauty fades, not suddenly, but in gradual stages.

The image of 'their swords upon their iron knees' is surely a reference to the sculptured lids of the tombs of old warrior monarchs and knights. So the last five lines are saying that all things beautiful are destined to fade and join Beauty's heroes and standard bearers ('her high ... mysteries') where they lie 'lonely' and 'half-asleep' brooding in their tombs. As a metaphor, it's a bit over the top, but WBY gets away with it because of the beautiful language he uses.

Ian





Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/27/2005 02:03PM by IanB.

That all makes sense to me, though in fairness, Yeats is one of the most difficult poets, and I have spent lotsa time scratching my head over the secrets in his poems. It is tempting to think William Butler is once again Gonne fishing, and the Forgotten Beauty is a dead and departed Lady Maud. Can't be that, though, since the Maudlin Maid died after Woeful Willie.

So, we have to infer the missing loveliness is something else. Assuming the speaker is indeed Yeats, when he puts his arms around his lover, he dreams of all the long-lost beauty that once was but now is lost. Days of knights and chivalry, riches of Byzanthium, heroes of Ireland. And the sadness of death itself, of course - so much beauty lost forever.

Will the future bring us more beauty yet? Yep, but in this poem Yeats pines for all that is lost in the past.

thanks a lot u guys!!
chill Ian. I'll change my name if u have such a problem. k? suggestions?

No problem with your username. Just thought that if you chose it, it was inconsistent also to be damning his poetry!

Anyway, I trust we have moved on from that.

Ofcourse.

Sara(Yeats)