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Aug. 2nd, 2004 01:47 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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greatpoetryI'm forever indebted to the originator of this. It inspired me to spend an hour and a half digging through the print-out papers in a big box in my closet, trying to find a copy of this poem, which I was reminded of in reading the other.
A New Poet
Finding a new poet
is like finding a wildflower
out in the woods. You don't see
its name in the flower books, and
nobody you tell believes
in its odd color or the way
its leaves grow in splayed rows
down the whole length of the page. In fact
the very page smells of spilled
red wine and the mustiness of the sea
on a foggy day--the odor of truth
and of lying.
And the words are so familiar,
so strangely new, words
you almost wrote yourself, if only
in your dreams there had been a pencil
or a pen or even a paintbrush,
if only there had been a flower.
Linda Pastan
A New Poet
Finding a new poet
is like finding a wildflower
out in the woods. You don't see
its name in the flower books, and
nobody you tell believes
in its odd color or the way
its leaves grow in splayed rows
down the whole length of the page. In fact
the very page smells of spilled
red wine and the mustiness of the sea
on a foggy day--the odor of truth
and of lying.
And the words are so familiar,
so strangely new, words
you almost wrote yourself, if only
in your dreams there had been a pencil
or a pen or even a paintbrush,
if only there had been a flower.
Linda Pastan
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Date: 2004-08-02 07:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-02 10:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-02 01:21 pm (UTC)thank you for posting it!
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Date: 2004-08-02 06:46 pm (UTC)