Followers
Thursday, December 31, 2020
Thursday, December 24, 2020
Three Metaphors for Prayer
THREE METAPHORS FOR PRAYER
The desert
The moon and the river at night
The swiftly sailing ship
I eat dry bread...
I eat dry
bread in the desert:
It tastes
like a cake of dust.
I breathe
in and out powdery clouds:
Nostrils
singe, snorting fire.
I swallow my
own saliva:
Thick
paste coats my inside throat.
How will I
sustain my journey in this land
When my
mouth is filled with sand?
I falter
inside a steel kettle, sparks popping about.
Black
footprints flame at the edges.
I am dried
up, a gourd rattling seeds.
Heat waves
deceive like the devil.
Thirsty, I
lick at a mirage with my eyes.
Twisting,
I glimpse the taskmaster sun.
Hands
astride hips, he glares mercilessly,
Glowering
white noon death rays.
The sky is
livid, a clown murderer, crimson lips, grinning.
He spills
sacksful of hot ash from above.
Multitudes,
buried alive, scratch at the insides of a wooden coffin.
Spiritless
as the burning air gone lifeless,
I am dark
as a moonless, starless sky,
Staggering
in an expanse unbounded beyond extreme sight,
Devoid of
any atom of hope,
Despair, a
universe expanding endlessly.
—Gonzalinho
da Costa
Since
centuries past the desert has long assumed the status of a practically universal
symbol for dryness in Christian prayer.
Richard J. Foster describes this dryness well and connects it to the image of the desert.
“Sometimes it seems as if God is hidden from
us. We do everything we know. We pray. We serve. We worship. We live as
faithfully as we can. And still there is nothing—nothing! It feels as though we
are ‘beating on Heaven’s door with bruised knuckles in the dark,’ to use the
words of preacher George Buttrick. Times of seeming desertion and absence and
abandonment appear to be universal among those who walk the path of faith.
“I am not
talking about a true absence, of course, but rather a sense of absence. God is
always present with us—we know that theologically—but there are times when he
withdraws our consciousness of his presence.
“But these
theological niceties are of little help to us when we enter the Sahara of the
heart. Here we experience real spiritual desolation. We feel abandoned by
friends, spouse, and God. Every hope evaporates the moment we reach for it. We
question, we doubt, we struggle. We pray and the words feel rote. We turn to
the Bible and find it meaningless. We turn to music and it fails to move us. We
seek the fellowship of other Christians and discover only backbiting,
selfishness, and egoism.
“One
metaphor for these experiences of forsakenness is the desert. It is an apt
image, for we indeed feel dry, barren, parched.”
—Richard
J. Foster, “Praying in the Desert,” July 20, 1992, Christianity Today
Saint
Ignatius of Loyola has called dryness in prayer and in the spiritual life
generally, “desolation,” and he defines it in the Fourth Rule of the Spiritual Exercises:
“I call
desolation all the contrary of the third rule, such as darkness of soul,
disturbance in it, movement to things low and earthly, the unquiet of different
agitations and temptations, moving to want of confidence, without hope, without
love, when one finds oneself all lazy, tepid, sad, and as if separated from his
Creator and Lord. Because, as consolation is contrary to desolation, in the
same way the thoughts which come from consolation are contrary to the thoughts
which come from desolation.”
Since he
defines “desolation” in contraposition to “consolation,” we should also cite
his understanding of “consolation” in the Third Rule:
“I call it
consolation when some interior movement in the soul is caused, through which
the soul comes to be inflamed with love of its Creator and Lord; and when it
can in consequence love no created thing on the face of the earth in itself,
but in the Creator of them all.
“Likewise,
when it sheds tears that move to love of its Lord, whether out of sorrow for
one’s sins, or for the Passion of Christ our Lord, or because of other things
directly connected with His service and praise.
“Finally,
I call consolation every increase of hope, faith and charity, and all interior
joy which calls and attracts to heavenly things and to the salvation of one’s
soul, quieting it and giving it peace in its Creator and Lord.”
—“14 Rules
for the Discernment of Spirits by St. Ignatius of Loyola,” August 3, 2018, Scepter Publishers
Saint
Ignatius, acknowledged master of the spiritual life, in the Ninth Rule gives
three reasons why a soul might be afflicted by desolation:
“The first
is, because of our being tepid, lazy or negligent in our spiritual exercises;
and so through our faults, spiritual consolation withdraws from us.
“The
second, to try us and see how much we are and how much we let ourselves out in
His service and praise without such great pay of consolation and great graces.
“The
third, to give us true acquaintance and knowledge, that we may interiorly feel
that it is not ours to get or keep great devotion, intense love, tears, or any
other spiritual consolation, but that all is the gift and grace of God our
Lord, and that we may not build a nest in a thing not ours, raising our
intellect into some pride or vainglory, attributing to us devotion or the other
things of the spiritual consolation.”
Paraphrasing
Saint Ignatius, we would say that the first reason is on account of the sinful
habits of the soul. This condition applies to beginners in prayer and to those
who have lapsed or fallen away in their spiritual journey toward God.
The second
reason pertains to those who are making progress in the spiritual life and are
tested by God for their spiritual good. Desolation is a trial for the
proficient, so-called.
The third
reason is to chide the soul concerning their own spiritual poverty before God,
the origin and source of all good, urging them toward a deeper condition of
humility.
The
desert, therefore, is an intermittent feature of the entire spiritual journey,
and descends upon both beginners and the proficient, for different reasons and for
diverse purposes in the spiritual life.
The desert
as a universally applicable metaphor for the spiritual life and for prayer in
particular originates in the Bible.
“…it is
only in the Middle East that a very influential mythic literature of the desert
dating from ancient times was written—the Bible. It’s a curious fact.
“…Fraught
with spiritual meaning, the desert is a central motif of the Bible, one of a
handful of the most influential works of world spirituality.”
In the
Bible, “the desert is a place and symbol of purification and revelation during
Israel’s forty-year sojourn before the nation entered the Promised Land.”
—Gonzalinho
da Costa, “Three Poems about the Desert – Analysis and Commentary,” January 17,
2019, Poetry of Gonzalinho da Costa
The desert
as a locus of purification and revelation appears not only in the Pentateuch
but also in the rest of the Bible.
Another
image of prayer that has become commonplace in Western cultural discourse,
courtesy of Saint John of the Cross, is the night, particularly the “dark
night.”
THE MOON AND RIVER AND SILENCE
Guided by
the moon,
Traveling
downriver,
I am
enraptured by silence.
All I hear
is, delicate, song of my oar
As it dips
gently, emerges,
Streamlets,
bright notes running down the edge
Of the
blade, silver spoon, glistening.
I listen
to the moon…
River,
warbling bird…
Illumined
by silence.
Crickets
dare not crack their knuckles.
—Gonzalinho
da Costa
Saint John
of the Cross’ “dark night” has been popularly misunderstood as a state of psychological
depression or the convergence in a person’s life of especially difficult and
trying events.
We will
examine Saint John’s own words to clarify and explain in what the “dark night”
essentially consists.
“We may
say that there are three reasons for which this journey made by the soul to
union with God is called night. The first has to do with the point from which
the soul goes forth, for it has gradually to deprive itself of desire for all
the worldly things which it possessed, by denying them to itself; the which
denial and deprivation are, as it were, night to all the senses of man. The
second reason has to do with the mean, or the road along which the soul must
travel to this union—that is, faith, which is likewise as dark as night to the
understanding. The third has to do with the point to which it travels—namely,
God, Who, equally, is dark night to the soul in this life. These three nights must
pass through the soul—or, rather, the soul must pass through them—in order that
it may come to Divine union with God.”
—Saint
John of the Cross, “The Dark Night,” Ascent
of Mount Carmel, Chapter 2
The “dark
night” is a period of sensual and spiritual purgation, the latter subsuming the
former.
The soul
that enters the “dark night” seeks union with God and undertakes the
mortification of the senses and of the spirit—the spiritual faculties of the
intellect and will—for this purpose, mortification which is not only active but
also passive.
Saint John
expounds the first two stanzas of his mystical masterpiece, “The Dark Night,” to
explain this point.
“One dark
night, fired with love's urgent longings—ah, the sheer grace! —I went out
unseen, my house being now all stilled.
“In
darkness, and secure, by the secret ladder, disguised—ah, the sheer grace!—in
darkness and concealment, my house being now all stilled.”
—Saint
John of the Cross, “Stanzas of the Soul,” The
Dark Night of the Soul, Prologue
“In this first stanza, the soul speaks of the
way it followed in its departure from love of both self and all things. Through
a method of true mortification, it died to all these things and to itself. It
did this so as to reach the sweet and delightful life of love with God. And it
declares that this departure was a dark night. As we will explain later, this
dark night signifies here purgative contemplation, which passively causes in
the soul this negation of self and of all things.”
—Saint
John of the Cross, “Explanation of the Stanzas,” The Dark Night of the Soul, Book I
The “dark
night,” consists, therefore, in the first place, in habitual sensual and
spiritual abnegation.
Saint John
gives a second reason why this passage in the spiritual life is a “dark night.”
God is darkness to the soul and indeed will always be so while the soul animates
the mortal body, because God, being pure spirit, cannot be apprehended by the corporeal
sense of sight.
True, the
soul in beatitude—in heaven—apprehends or “sees” God not in darkness but in
light, according to the capacity of the soul, but we are assured that in this
mortal life the soul always experiences God as darkness, in varying degrees.
Scripture
testifies that God is light, yes, but also affirms that God is darkness.
“He made
darkness his cloak around him.” (Psalm 18:12)
“Darkness
is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are but
one.” (Psalm 113:12)
“Solomon
said, ‘The Lord intends to dwell in the dark cloud.’” (1 Kings 8:12)
A third
reason why Saint John describes this stage of the spiritual journey as a “dark
night” is because the pilgrim soul advancing towards union with God travels in
the darkness of faith.
However,
it is not a lost, undirected darkness because the soul that earnestly seeks God
is assured of spiritual guidance, according to the doctrine of Saint John.
Kevin
Gerald Culligan, O.C.D., demonstrates that Saint John of the Cross, in Ascent of Mount Carmel principally,
advances the following propositions:
- God is a
person’s principal spiritual director.
- The goal
to which God leads the human person is union with himself in perfect faith,
hope, and love.
- God
guides the human person to divine union through human nature, especially the
light of natural reason; through divine revelation, particularly as expressed
in the Person of Jesus Christ, and through infused contemplation.
- Persons
committed to seeking divine union are capable of following God’s guidance
without the aid of a human spiritual director.
The fourth
point above is worth noting because God, who is infinitely good, does not allow
the soul that earnestly seeks him to wander about in confusion and misdirection.
The infinitely good God guarantees their spiritual guidance.
About human
spiritual direction, Saint John says the following, according to Culligan:
- Spiritual
direction is a ministry in the church to help persons follow God’s guidance to
divine union.
- The
essential function of the spiritual director is to guide the directee along the
road to union with God.
- To
fulfill the role of an instrument in God’s guidance of persons to divine union
through infused contemplation, the spiritual director must possess knowledge,
experience, and skill in helping relationships.
—Kevin
Gerald Culligan, O.C.D., “Toward a Contemporary Model of Spiritual Direction,” Ephemerides Carmeliticae, Volume 31
(1980/81), pages 33-37
In the
words of Saint John of the Cross:
“God, like
the sun, stands above souls ready to communicate himself. Let directors be
content with disposing them for this according to evangelical perfection, which
lies in emptiness of sense and spirit; and let them not desire to go any
further than this in building, since that function belongs only to the Father of
lights from whom descends every good and perfect gift (James 1:17)
“…directors should reflect that they
themselves are not the chief agent, guide, and mover of souls in this matter,
but the principal guide is the Holy Spirit, who is never neglectful of souls
and they themselves are instruments for directing these souls to perfection
through faith and the law of God, according to the spirit give by God to each
one.”
—Saint
John of the Cross, “Stanza 3,” The Living
Flame of Love
In the poem,
“The Moon and River and Silence,” our assurance of God’s spiritual guidance in
the “dark night” is signified by the moon, which, among others, stands for the guidance
of the Holy Spirit.
Worth
noting is that when the Blessed Sacrament is displayed for adoration, it is
placed inside a receptacle called the luna,
derived from the Latin word for “moon” and which denotes the Roman moon goddess,
Luna. The receptacle slides into place inside the monstrance.
The river in
the same poem stands for the silent, peaceful stages of the spiritual journey.
Rivers can
be turbulent, troublesome, and dangerous, or the converse, effortless, calming,
and placid.
The mercurial
character of rivers defines the spiritual life generally and the “dark night”
of Saint John in particular. He writes:
“The soul,
if it desires to pay close attention, will clearly recognize how on this road
it suffers many ups and downs, and how immediately after prosperity some
tempest and trial follows, so much so that seemingly the calm was given to
forewarn and strengthen it against further penury. It sees, too, how abundance
and tranquility succeed misery and torment, and in such a way that it thinks it
was made to fast before celebrating that feast. This is the ordinary procedure
in the state of contemplation until one arrives at the quiet state: the soul
never remains in one state, but everything is ascent and descent.” [boldface mine]
—Saint John of the Cross, “How this
Secret Wisdom Is Also a Ladder,” The Dark
Night of the Soul, Book II, Chapter 18, 3
Saint John
teaches us that the spiritual life is not an endless desert. It is a distortion
to imagine God as the merciless taskmaster of an unrelenting ordeal. We can
take heart that the desert of purification is punctuated by oases of refreshment
and even by extended periods of tranquility and rest.
SAILING
Swiftly I
sail the perfect blue water, slicing through the sea.
Clouds
charged with electricity fill broad sky vistas.
At night I
am guided by the geometry of the stars.
—Gonzalinho
da Costa
At times
it appears as if everything in the spiritual life is delightful, untroubled,
and radiant. We understand keenly, pray deeply, and act upon spiritual
challenges with the virtuous prowess of an Olympic athlete, in a manner of
speaking.
We might
describe this time as a period of prolonged consolation, to use the vocabulary
of Loyola.
The “dark
night” begins to give way to the warmth and light of an enduring dawn, which
corresponds to the higher levels of the ten-step “ladder of contemplation” of
Saint John of the Cross.
He writes
about the ninth step of the ladder as follows:
“The ninth
step of love causes the soul to burn gently. It is the step of the perfect who
burn gently in God. The Holy Spirit produces this gentle and delightful ardor
by reason of the perfect soul's union with God. St. Gregory accordingly says of
the Apostles that when the Holy Spirit came upon them visibly, they burned
interiorly and gently with love.”
—Saint
John of the Cross, “The Remaining Five Steps of Love,” The Dark Night of the Soul, Book II, Chapter 20, 4
Saint
Bruno, the founder of the Carthusian Order, has spoken in rapturous terms about
the spiritual joys of this state of blessedness:
“Only
those who have experienced them can know the benefits and divine exultation
that the solitude and silence of the desert hold in store for those who love
it. For here men of strong will can enter into themselves and remain there as
much as they like, diligently cultivating the seeds of virtue and eating the
fruits of Paradise with joy. Here we can acquire that eye which wounds the
Bridegroom with love by the limpidity of its gaze, and whose purity allows us
to see God Himself. Here we can observe a busy leisure and can rest in quiet
activity. Here also does God crown His athletes for their stern struggle with
the hoped-for prize: that peace which the world cannot know and joy in the Holy
Spirit.”
—Saint
Bruno the Carthusian, “Letter of Saint Bruno to Raoul-le-Verd,” c. 1090
Saint John
of the Cross conceives the Song of Songs alluding to the end of the “dark night”
and the beginning of rarefied contemplation. In his explanation of Stanza 34 of
his Spiritual Canticle, he cites the
following verses:
“See, the
winter is past, the rains are over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the
time of pruning the vines has come, and the song of the turtledove is heard in
our land.” (Song of Songs 2:11-12)
When winter is past, we
travel the world in the weather of a perfect summer aboard a swiftly sailing
ship, the enchantment seemingly unending.
Praying Hands |
Monday, December 21, 2020
Best Short Poem Ever Written
BEST SHORT POEM EVER WRITTEN
What
is a “short” poem? In order to limit the scope of our exercise we have to specify
the meaning of “short,” even if we are going to be somewhat arbitrary.
We
define a poem as “short” if it has 10 lines or less because the number 10 stands
for a perceptually small quantity. We maintain 10 items in our imagination
handily and without much effort.
The
number 10 is archetypal. It corresponds to the total number of fingers in both
hands. Notably, 10 is the number of commandments said to be revealed by God to
Moses in the Book of Exodus.
Although
a poem a little longer than 10 lines could reasonably be described as “short,”
we begin to stretch the meaning of “short” when the total number of lines
extends into multiples of 10.
What
makes a short poem outstanding? A short poem succeeds by showing insight. The
insight is ingeniously and concisely expressed so that the thoughts conveyed are
invariably received by the reader with surprise and delight.
“Insight”
has been defined as “an accurate and deep intuitive understanding of a person
or thing” (Google dictionary). Insight is the keen cognizance of important relations
among one or more things apparently unrelated.
Insight
in a short poem often works by relating a winning metaphor to its subject.
QUILT
by Allison Whittenberg
Slaves
recognize the metaphor
Putting
odds together with ends
Knitting
scraps into sturdy shape
Manipulating
fabric
Irregular
shapes:
Functional,
enduring
Making
a way
Out
of no way
The
insight in this poem relates the putting together of a quilt with the difficult
life of a slave, who makes the most of what is available, “Making a way / Out
of no way.”
“To
be a master of metaphor,” Aristotle said, “is the greatest thing by far. It is
the one thing that cannot be learned from others, and it is also a sign of
genius.” (Poetics, 22)
Aristotle
would probably recognize the burst of genius in the short poem below.
FILE
NUMBER TWENTY-NINE by Ken Simpson
Obituary
The
autopsy showed
truth
died of neglect
many
years ago.
“File
No. 29,” presumably, identifies the location where the obituary has been filed
away.
Antithesis—waking
in contraposition to sleeping—and a vivid, pointed metaphor work together to produce
this next successful short poem.
THE
SILENCE AND I by Tóroddur Poulsen
Original
language Faroese
Translated
by Randi Ward
i
wake
to
the silence
outside
myself
the
way
a
bustling
city
falls
asleep
Robert
Frost’s classic “Fire and Ice” is a masterpiece of metaphor, the lines tightly
bound together by rhyme.
FIRE
AND ICE by Robert Frost
Some
say the world will end in fire,
Some
say in ice.
From
what I’ve tasted of desire
I
hold with those who favor fire.
But
if it had to perish twice,
I
think I know enough of hate
To
say that for destruction ice
Is
also great
And
would suffice.
Alfred,
Lord Tennyson’s “The Eagle,” another classic, is a figurative tour de force. The
two stanzas of the poem are tied together by meter and rhyme.
THE
EAGLE by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
He
clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close
to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd
with the azure world, he stands.
The
wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He
watches from his mountain walls,
And
like a thunderbolt he falls.
This
next short poem succeeds by ingeniously invoking the metaphor of piano sheet
music in order to flash in the mind’s eye a vivid image of flocking birds.
BIRDS
ON TRIPLICATE POWER LINES by J. M. Hall
pianist’s
furious
nightmare
sheet music—how
to
play their rearranging
flight,
flocking
claustrophobia
against
open
pale
blue
Additional
literary elements contribute to the notable impact of the poem, including
trenchant description—“rearranging flight,” “open pale blue”; and multi-level
metaphors amplified by evocative diction—“furious nightmare,” “flocking
claustrophobia.”
Insight
in a short poem does not necessarily employ your usual literary devices. It may
simply connect ideas together in a manner that gives us pause.
THE
RULE by Alexis Ellyse
In
our love
there’s
just one thing
that
I expect of you:
Tell
me what I want to hear
but
only
if
it’s true.
Addressing
the beloved, the speaker in the poem tells them that they want to hear only
what they want to hear and only if it’s true. Excluded are what is false and
what they do not want to hear even if it is true.
Doesn’t
love involve telling the beloved what they do not want to hear because it is
true and they need to hear it?
Isn’t
it sometimes necessary to withhold the truth from the beloved?
The
insight of the poet consists in connecting together ideas about love that make
us revisit the idea of love and ponder it.
Following
is another example of a poem that connects ideas together, eliciting surprise.
I
HAD A SUDDEN SCRUPLE by Ralph Wright, O.S.B.
I
had a
sudden
scruple
when
writing
this
poem
that
what
I
was saying
was
worth
less
than
silence
so
I stopped.
The
poem as it were hangs on the wall like a cutaway of religious experience framed
by relevant provisions of the Benedictine Rule on silence (Chapters 6, 7, 38,
and 42).
The
insight of the poet consists in linking his silent impulse to its religious context,
although the reader has to do their part connecting the dots.
At
the close the poem catches the reader by surprise. The poem concludes,
literally, with silence.
The
paths to a great short poem are various. The prose poem following succeeds by limning
an unexpected vision of the future. As we look past the figurative language, we
come across a disquietingly plausible scenario.
THE
DANGERS OF TIME TRAVEL by Gerardo Mena
You
wake up in the future and realize that everyone has evolved. People now have
the head of a blue jay and the body of a shiny machine that whirs softly as its
insides spin. You see two bird heads that look like your parents, but, of
course, that is not possible.
When
they see you they cry and shake their heads slowly with disappointment because
you are not like them. I’m sorry, you say, your voice rough and hard from one
thousand years of sleeping. We are all dying, they sing, their voices like
glockenspiels.
One
of the greatest short poems in the Anglophone world consists of two words linked
by an eye rhyme.
THE
SHORTEST AND SWEETEST OF SONGS by George MacDonald
Come
Home.
Inseparably
joined to the two words is the poem’s title. It supplies the context for the
entreaty and imbues it with pathos.
The
proverb—a pithy saying, often metaphorical—is a short poem genre that occurs in
oral traditions throughout the world.
In
the Christian world the Bible is a source of many commonplace proverbs. Pithy
sayings occur throughout the Bible, especially in the Book of Proverbs, from
which we cite several examples.
“With
closest custody, guard your heart, for in it are the sources of life.”—Proverbs
4:23
“Where
words are many, sin is not wanting, but he who restrains his lips does well.”—Proverbs
10:19
“Better
a dry crust with peace than a house full of feasting with strife.”—Proverbs 17:1
A
small proportion of the huge body of proverbs outside the English-speaking world
has made its way into the Western tradition through translation. Below we present
several examples from Reader’s Digest, a reputable enough publication. (The
Internet, we are only too aware, is the source of many false attributions and
quotes.)
“Coffee
and love taste best when hot.”—Ethiopian proverb
“Fall
seven times, stand up eight.”—Japanese proverb
“Turn
your face toward the sun and the shadows fall behind you.”—Maori proverb
At
least one reason why proverbs in the vernacular never make their way into the English-speaking
world is that they speak principally to the culture of origin so that they
suffer significant loss of meaning in translation. The Tagalog proverbs below illustrate
this point.
“Nasa Diyos ang awa, nasa tao ang
gawa.”
“To
be merciful is God’s, while to act is man’s.”
Almost
the equivalent of “Man proposes, God disposes,” the original Tagalog context insinuates
fatalism.
“Ang taong walang kibo, nasa loob ang
kulo.”
“A
quiet person hides his anger.”
“Ang nakatikip na bibig ay hindi pinapasukan
ng langaw.”
“A
fly will not enter a closed mouth.”
Read
in the context of Tagalog hypersensitivity and the paramount cultural value of
maintaining smooth interpersonal relations, both proverbs are pointed warnings
to take care not to offend others.
In
areas of the Philippines and inside lower socioeconomic class homes where it is
practically impossible to keep flies out because of the absence of wire screens
and air conditioners, flies are everywhere, especially during mealtimes. Given
the ubiquity of flies inside the home, a word of caution against accidentally mouthing
one is readily remembered.
An
informative introduction to outstanding Philippine social and cultural values
is available at this link:
—“Social
Values and Organization,” Ronald E. Dolan, ed., Philippines: A Country Study, 1991
Imagism
was a doctrine of poetic composition formulated by Ezra Pound. It was a
Modernist reaction against Romantic and Victorian poetry. In 1913 Pound set
forth his Imagist tenets in Poetry
magazine as follows:
1. Direct treatment of the “thing,” whether subjective or objective
2. To use absolutely no word that did not contribute to the presentation
3. Regarding rhythm, to compose in sequence of the musical phrase, not in sequence of a metronome.
Poems
written in Imagist mode are often short. “In a
Station of the Metro”
illustrates Pound’s Imagist tenets and is a short poem classic.
IN
A STATION OF THE METRO by Ezra Pound
The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.
One of the most widely anthologized short poems is this
Imagist classic.
THE RED WHEELBARROW by William Carlos Williams
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
No shortage of commentary on this one. See, for
example:
—“The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams,” Poem Analysis
It makes you wonder if the poem deserves all the
attention it has received.
The
Imagist approach in short poems is not unique to Modernism. Imagist poems can
be found centuries before Pound, even though at the time Imagism was not identified
by name or set forth as a doctrine of composition.
The
English translation of the Japanese poem below is a good example. The poem
captures the mood and feeling of dusk with concise, direct treatment of the
subject matter.
The lower leaves… by Sone No
Yoshitada
The
lower leaves of the trees
Tangle
the sunset in dusk.
Awe
spreads with
The
summer twilight.
A
Japanese professor of English offers a highly perceptive analysis of the poem
at this link:
—“The
lower leaves… by Sone No Yoshitada” (May 7, 2020), Poetry of Gonzalinho da Costa
A
good example of implicit Imagism is the following poem by Tu Fu, a luminary of
the Tang dynasty. The English translation below is concisely descriptive,
evoking a vivid, lucid image of a nighttime river scene.
BRIMMING
WATER by Tu Fu
Original
language Chinese
Translated
by Kenneth Roxroth
Under
my feet the moon
Glides
along the river.
Near
midnight, a gusty lantern
Shines
in the heart of the night.
Along
the sandbars flocks
Of
white egrets roost,
Each
one clenched like a fist.
In
the wake of my barge
The
fish leap, cut the water,
And
dive and splash.
The
genius of Imagist poems lies in invoking descriptive details often in combination
with figurative language in order to render a memorable scene.
Numerous
journals specialize in short poem genres—haiku, tanka, sonnet, etc. One Sentence Poems, started in February
2014, publishes several poems a month. Going strong, it’s a treasury of short
poems.
Thousands
and thousands of short poems exist, floating about like hypnotic stars in the
literary universe. If we take it upon ourselves to give out an award for the
“best short poem ever written,” we have to reduce our selection pool.
We’ve
already made a start by limiting the number of lines in a short poem to 10.
We’ve
also argued that a successful short poem shows insight. Absence or lack insight,
dullness, in a word, guarantees the failure of a short poem. The cliché would
be an especially grave sin.
The
opposite of the cliché—the keen, the original, the inventive—brings to the fore
another criterion by which we may evaluate the quality of a short poem.
A
short poem that is able to hold its own over the passage of long time—that not
only shows insight but also is able to maintain its capacity to surprise and
delight —bespeaks greatness. A great short poem is “one for the ages.”
Concededly,
this criterion favors older poems and works against many worthy poems of recent
vintage. On the other hand, this criterion allows us to usefully reduce further
our candidates for the “best short poem ever written.”
Notwithstanding
our efforts at reduction, our pool of candidates like the universe remains vast
and constantly expanding. After all, poetry deals with every possible subject,
from coffee on Monday mornings to sleeping pills at night.
We
could dramatically reduce further the number of poems we would have to consider
by limiting the subject matter. Practically all poetry, whatever the culture of
origin, deals with the motifs of love and death. They bear universal
significance in the human experience and arguably are the primal drivers of
human existence. No doubt great poetry has the capacity to treat even the most
apparently trivial subject matter in a manner that is literary and enduring. However,
if we limit our purview to the aforementioned motifs, at once our pool of
candidates is dramatically reduced and our task becomes more manageable.
Our
fifth and last criterion is brevity, meaning, “the shorter, the better.” By
itself, this criterion is inadequate, for length does not solely determine the
quality of a poem. On the other hand, a short poem that is able to do the job
with the absolute minimum required in terms of length, besides everything else,
stands out because of the virtuosity demonstrated.
Our
five criteria:
-
10 lines or less
-
Shows insight
-
One for the ages
-
About love, death, or both
-
The shorter, the better
Let’s
look at some leading candidates.
MORE THAN YESTERDAY, LESS THAN TOMORROW by
Rosemonde Gérard
It’s
true we will grow old
Older
Wrinkled
with time
But
still every day I
will hold you closer
Because
you see, I
love you
Today
More
than yesterday
And
much, much less than tomorrow
This
love poem stands out because it deals with the motif of married love. Most love
poetry does not.
The poet pulls off a surprise inversion in the last
line.
The
poem satisfies all our criteria except for endurance. Its relative newness— adapted
from the 1889 poem written originally in French, it was republished in 2003—works
against its selection.
All
things considered, classic poems because of their endurance present us with the
most likely prospects for the “best short poem ever written.”
Robert
Herrick’s “Upon Julia’s Clothes” is, in my opinion, a good contender.
UPON
JULIA’S CLOTHES by Robert Herrick
Whenas
in silks my Julia goes,
Then,
then (methinks) how sweetly flows
That
liquefaction of her clothes.
Next,
when I cast mine eyes, and see
That
brave vibration each way free,
O
how that glittering taketh me!
It’s
remarkable how poetry written approximately 400 years ago maintains its power
to surprise and delight, with the caveat that it’s a “male” poem—it is male
readers mainly who identify with the point of view of the speaker.
“Upon
Julia’s Clothes” attests to, to cite Herrick’s words, “the eternizing power of
poetry.”
I
consider this last poem, the best short poem ever written. Drum roll, please.
It’s
written in Ionic Greek by the poet Simonides of Ceos (c. 556 to 468 B.C.E.). It
memorializes the Spartans who were killed resisting the Persians led by Xerxes
I at the Battle of Thermopylae. Herodotus (c. 484 to c. 430-420 B.C.E.) reports
that he came across the elegy inscribed on one of the original monuments at
Thermopylae, now forever lost.
Ὦ ξεῖν’, ἀγγέλλειν
Λακεδαιμονίοις ὅτι τῇδε κείμεθα,
τοῖς κείνων ῥήμασι
πειθόμενοι.
English
translations abound of the original Greek, of which the following is both
lyrical and accurate.
“Stranger,
bear this message to the Spartans, that here we lie, obedient to their laws.”
Historian
Scott Manning has posted some lively commentary about the poem. It makes for
worthwhile reading. See this link:
—Scott
Manning, “Go Tell the Spartans” (April 6, 2016), Historian on the Warpath
Why
is it the best short poem written? Besides fulfilling our five criteria, the
poem memorializes an event that lies at the foundation of Western civilization.
Because Western influence on cultures everywhere has been major and lasting, the
event and the poem remain significant, even momentous, and are remembered to
the present day.
The
principal influences that form the foundation of Western civilization are
Jewish, Greek, and Roman. Some of the most influential ideas today are based on
science and modern republican democracy, both of which can be traced to their beginnings
in ancient Greece. Ancient Greece gave rise to the Aristotelian intellectual
tradition that eventually led to the Scientific Revolution of the 17th and 18th centuries. Science and technology constitute the major underpinnings
of the Industrial Revolution of the 19th century, which originated
in the U.K. and rapidly spread throughout Europe, the U.S., and Japan. The West
is the origin of the 19th-century ideologies of socialism and communism,
which throughout the 20th century and beyond has shaped the global
order, including the political features of the most populous nation today,
China. Socialism and communism were ideological
reactions against liberal democracy. The historical perspective of centuries therefore attests that the
influence of Greek civilization on the world has been like the proverbial
mustard seed that grew and grew until its branches overspread.
Resistance
at the Battle of Thermopylae may have ended in defeat but the legendary heroism
there inspired the Greek city-states to band together in order to defeat the
Persians, who lost decisively at the Battles of Salamis and of Marathon.
Decades later, the ever-present Persian threat of invasion drove Alexander the
Great to return the favor and conquer the Persians on their home ground. Upon Alexander
the Great’s demise, Hellenistic culture spread widely throughout the
Mediterranean, the Levant especially.
The
foregoing account demonstrates that the Battle of Thermopylae was a historical tipping
point that amplified the influence of Greek civilization on the world until the
present day.
Others, I am sure, will
profess their own favorite poems and choose another “best short poem ever
written.” All’s well, for we live in a diverse world where different points of
view co-exist.
Sources / Original or first publications:
Allison Whittenberg, “Quilt,” Imitation Fruit, Issue 13 (September
2014)
Ken Simpson, “File Number Twenty-Nine,” Torrid Literature Journal, Vol. XXIII,
No. 1 (January 2019), page 18
Tóroddur Poulsen. “The Silence and I,” Randi
Ward, transl., Beloit Poetry Journal, Vol.
64, No. 4 (Summer 2014), page 10
J.
M. Hall, “Birds on Triplicate Power Lines,” Euphony,
Volume XXIV, Number 1 (Winter 2014), page 38
Alexis
Ellyse, “The Rule,” Eunoia Review (August
10, 2014)
Ralph
Wright, O.S.B., “I Had a Sudden Scruple” (May 1, 2001), St. Louis Abbey, Missouri, USA at https://www.stlouisabbey.org/
Gerardo
Mena, “The Dangers of Time Travel,”
Four Way Review, Issue 2 (January
15, 2013)
George
MacDonald, “The Shortest and Sweetest of Songs,” Scottish Poetry Library at http://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/shortest-and-sweetest-songs/
Fiona
Tapp and Ariel Zeitlin, “22 Most Beautiful Proverbs from Around the World,” Reader’s Digest (November 7,
2019) at https://www.rd.com/list/proverbs-about-life/
Mario
Alvaro Limos, “The Best Filipino Proverbs That Define Our Culture,” Esquire Philippines (December 20, 2019)
at https://www.esquiremag.ph/long-reads/features/filipino-proverbs-list-a00293-20191220
Sone
No Yoshitada, “The lower leaves…,” Americans’
Favorite Poems: The Favorite Poem Project Anthology, Robert Pinsky and
Maggie Dietz, eds. (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1999), page 307
Tu
Fu, “Brimming Water,” One Hundred Poems
from the Chinese, Kenneth Roxroth, transl. (New York: New Directions
Publishing Corporation, 1971), page 34
Rosemonde Gérard, “More than Yesterday, Less Than
Tomorrow,” Wedding Blessings: Prayers and
Poems Celebrating Love, Marriage, and Anniversaries, June Cotner, ed. (2003),
page 169
“Go
Tell the Spartans…,” The Battle of
Thermopylae at https://www.battle-of-thermopylae.eu/main_monuments.html
The following “classic” poems are featured in Poetry magazine online:
Robert Frost, “Fire and Ice”
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Eagle”
Ezra Pound, “In a Station of the Metro”
William Carlos Williams, “The Red Wheelbarrow”
Robert Herrick, “Upon Julia’s Clothes”
Hoplite, 5th Century BCE, Archaeological Museum of Sparta, Greece |
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