balladeer of moons
174,141 poems read
Ezra Pound
“Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth, Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.”
An imagistic poem, this work by Pound exemplifies how words can paint a picture
in the reader's mind. The "one image poem" is a form of super-position, that is
to say it is one idea set on top of another. “In a poem of this sort one is
trying to record the precise instant when a thing outward and objective
transforms itself, or darts into a thing inward and subjective.
This particular sort of consciousness has not been identified with
impressionist art. I think it is worthy of attention” (Pound.) Pound succeeds
in giving us a snapshot in words, and has actually almost invented a new
genre within verse writing.
The image seems to be of a used handkerchief, but one cannot really tell or
guess. The unity of time and purpose makes the imagery all the more
compelling and compact. Objectivity and subjectivity merge in this short but
powerful poem.
And let us lend out hearts to topless trees and warmth giving bees, for what the eyes
have
seen the brain would rather not record of.
No such thing is heard of.
Off of cliffs we dive
Looking for wheat as doves.
Black hands compromised by the cotton gin,
rest upon your pillow as your shaky hand slips.
This should be the end of the poem.
An imagistic poem, this work by Pound exemplifies how words can paint a picture
in the reader's mind. The "one image poem" is a form of super-position, that is
to say it is one idea set on top of another. “In a poem of this sort one is
trying to record the precise instant when a thing outward and objective
transforms itself, or darts into a thing inward and subjective.
This particular sort of consciousness has not been identified with
impressionist art. I think it is worthy of attention” (Pound.) Pound succeeds
in giving us a snapshot in words, and has actually almost invented a new
genre within verse writing.
The image seems to be of a used handkerchief, but one cannot really tell or
guess. The unity of time and purpose makes the imagery all the more
compelling and compact. Objectivity and subjectivity merge in this short but
powerful poem.
And let us lend out hearts to topless trees and warmth giving bees, for what the eyes
have
seen the brain would rather not record of.
No such thing is heard of.
Off of cliffs we dive
Looking for wheat as doves.
Black hands compromised by the cotton gin,
rest upon your pillow as your shaky hand slips.
This should be the end of the poem.