HART CRANE'S¹ THE BRIDGE -TO BROOKLYN BRIDGEhas the unique featured of notes thereon inbuilt*² as a part of the noteworthy &famous poem & is his only 'long' poem format in 8 cycle
s
*¹HC structured 'the Bridge poesy
with notes within as you see
Labelling them 'marginal gloss'*³
poems in themselves not merely floss
*²refer to the marginal glosses (or side notes)
that Crane strategically placed alongside
the main poetic text.
*¹Hart Crane of Garrettsville
a tragic poet if you will
'The Bridge' vision of America
jumped to his death north of Cuba
Fill ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ a ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ bowl
And ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ drown my soul:
¦¦¦ put ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ some ¦¦¦¦¦ designed
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ stream ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
That fills the ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ despairing heart ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ form
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ my ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ eyes ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
That ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ fancy ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ bright eyes,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
My sight will ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ see ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ with delight ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
The Classic ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ smile ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
I ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ felt ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ relief,
I ¦¦¦¦¦¦ have felt ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ grief.''
Yet ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ dreams ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ shall ¦¦¦ be
The Halo of my Memory.
(Blackout of Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl by John Keats)
I fondly recall lovely Spring mornings!
Breakfast was light, cup of fresh brewed
coffee, enjoyed on our airy back porch --
You suggested lunch, why not straight from
the garden? We tasted, spoke of the advantage
of no pesticides while gathering greens and
fruits. Dinner was with fine wine at a local
Italian restaurant we often frequented.
The chief’s daughter played on her violin
our favorite, Meditation from Thais --
Life was no less complicated but easier
to navigate, with pilot and co-pilot taking
turns. Maybe Heifetz and Massenet in Heaven?
My mother’s Eggplant Parmesan!? Dad said he
would never make it. Like to think we all
eventually do? Put in a good word for me.
See you soon.
And now ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ my nights ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ are ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ wicked ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ like ¦¦¦ you.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
A ¦¦¦¦¦ man, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ on his knee.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
If that would pleasure me.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ my lips
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ touch ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ a ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ lie,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ he'll keep.
I have forgotten how ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ to sleep.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
(Blackout of The Danger Of Writing Defiant Verse by Dorothy Parker)
Keats fiancée Fanny Brawne
This love,unconsummated,is left
upon our lips.in poems few,
sweet words of passion,bereft-
contentment,neither knew
Bright Star -Story of Fanny Brawne&John Keats see the movie for more
Like himself,just five feet tall
but Fanny was his all 'n all,
Until death's forboding ,made it's call;
Just letters left for us to hear,
They cannot but ,bring forth a tear
A tribute to John Keats (the poet) and his sweetheart Fanny Brawne
and the courtship trgically ended by John's too early death.
Here is an extract from one of his letters to Fanny-
Pillowed upon my fair-love,ripening breast
To feel for ever its soft swell and fall
Awake forever in a sweet unrest
Still,still to hear her tender breath
Keats A Song about myself
John Keats qualified as a surgeon apothecary
before concocting his poetry
He also wrote ballads & odes
but sonnets were his favourite mode
my version of Keats famous lyric for children
There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he
For nothing would he do
but scribble poetry:
He took
up his pen
again&again
Each thought
was caught
one after
the other
on his
folio cover
Indoors
or out
&never
a doubt
into his head
ideas did shout
Why was
this so
No-one
did know
For like Topsy
they just
seemed
to grow!
In our poetic firmanent
Keats is a brightest star;
he died,he thought a failure-
history judges otherwise,
true poetics ,never dies
If we can experience it, it is already a material thought-part of God. The permanent of all substance. God doesn't simply construct (what basic man understandably childlike reasons) -- He is builder of everything (all of His own essence-parts) (purified when in balance) (perfect in manifestation when blossomed expression) -- God is infinite existence, the purpose of Love to be lived outright eternally. Everything He is, He wants us to be, even greater for He is also all potential unlimited.
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So few understand the bible, and the true nature of being. God lives, breathes, feels with and through His creation (including us) -- Free Will allows us to separate from Him consciously...but it is an illusion. True separation is impossible. All is made of God Substance (His Body). Nothing exists outside of God. He is form and being. In Him knowledge of all Good and Evil. We pick and choose, Law the Redeemer. Grace and Love the patience. When in balance...there is only love.
Ex-medical student Francis Thompson
off to Lords he went along
Writing of cricket in verse
producing a poem accurate but terse
Anger-fueled words flare out of his mouth
like blue flames
I can feel the energy darken and turn cold
I sit silently
keeping my eyes locked downward,
absorbing every atom of hatred
that forms the sharp sounds being emitted.
I try not to show how uncomfortable I am
instead, I stare at the hypnotic,
damaging radiation waves
bellowing invisibly from the light of my phone screen,
pretending not to be affected by the unnecessary
vulgarities spouting from his ego.
in less than an instant,
the vibes go from comfortably chill
to anxiously wishing I was anywhere
but in this passenger seat.
every sentence carves a new scar
into my already damaged soul
as my brain categorizes each word
where it rightfully belongs.
I’m grateful for my oversized sunglasses
that hide my wincing eyes—
until I catch him looking sideways at me.
I solemnly mutter something about it being rush hour,
trying to become as small as my body will let me be.
I hope it seems like I’m too engulfed
in whatever stupid game I'm playing
to notice the short-fused flip-outs
that now happen every single time
we're in the car.
I would bathe myself in ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
These comforts ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ for ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ new ¦¦¦¦¦¦
Places!
Oh to be out of ¦¦¦¦¦
This ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
And you,
Love, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ the ¦¦¦¦ desired!
¦¦¦ I ¦¦¦ loathe ¦¦¦ walls, streets, stones,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
All ways of traffic
You, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ flow ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ like water,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ far out of this!
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ enough!
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
Alien people!
(Blackout of The Plunge by Ezra Pound)
Love's Philosophy a double quatrain in two stanza by Percy Bysshe Shelley is summed up in the eternal personal plea of his line 'Nothing in the world is single' & he declaims it should not be he
Poet Percy a bit of a rebel was he as his tragic bio truth to tell ,drowning in his boat 'Ariel'.
GEORGE ELIOT
An eliot is an epigram form I labelled in honour of George Eliot the English novelist/poet,
inspired by an example in Chap 8 of her book Daniel Deronda.Here is her epigram should you
wish to try one for yourself
What name doth Joy most borrow
when life is fair ?
Tomorrow !
What name does best fit sorrow
In young despair?
Tomorrow !
A talent
that outlived
passing fame-
hidden beneath
her lover's name.
&here is my 'ELIOT'
What tune does youth most play
when future's biding ?
Today !
What wisdom does age convey
when time is passing ?
Today !
Earth steals
the Moon's shine
curving line
sun-cast torn form
a divine misery.
Throw Heaven's
human scheme
hemmed within
the earthly show
fairer than the skies.
(Blackout of At a Lunar Eclipse by Thomas Hardy)
Cumulus clouds
clouds you learned to draw
the symbol of all clouds
like the snowflake symbolizes winter.
rounded, puffy, and a brilliant white bottoms are flat and dark.
develop on clear, sunny days
nickname
"fair weather" clouds.
appear in the late morning,
grow,
disappear toward evening.
Everyone wants a piece of me…
that’s what a large part of life
is. Wife, children, friends and
neighbors – little love bites for
attention~ the cats. And what
matters most, at the end of a
day, a life? – instead of left whole
I would rather have been fondly
portioned out, a good taste left on the sampling
palates of acquaintances. Relationships are
more triangles than circles...a
few pointed edges, pricked as
we navigate attractions. In my geometries
at the center real hearts....
Squares not pointed enough,
and circles rather boring.
Pieces are portions and portions
once an entire pie. Apples,
cinnamon and lots of brown sugar --
what the heck! Sweets are great
preservatives…. Maybe in charge
of bakeries my destiny if flavorful
decadence occasionally allowed in
the Here-after? I mean, if castles
and pavement of gold, why not pastries?
Do dentists ever make it to heaven?
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