The element of craftsmanship in poetry is obscured by the fact that all men are taught to speak and most to read and write, while very few men are taught to draw or paint or write music.
W.H. AudenTag: poetry
Parem todos os relógios, desliguem o telefone,
Evitem o latido do cachorro com seu osso suculento,
Silenciem os pianos e com tambores lentos
Tragam o caixão, deixem que o luto chore.
Deixem que os aviões voem em círculos altos
Riscando no céu a mensagem: Ele Está Morto,
Ponham gravatas beges no pescoço dos pombos brancos do chão,
Deixem que os guardas de trânsito usem luvas pretas de algodão.
Ele era meu Norte, meu Sul, meu Leste e Oeste,
Minha semana útil e meu domingo inerte,
Meu meio-dia, minha meia-noite, minha canção, minha fala,
Achei que o amor fosse para sempre: Eu estava errado.
As estrelas não são necessárias: retirem cada uma delas;
Empacotem a lua e façam o sol desmanchar;
Esvaziem o oceano e varram as florestas;
Pois nada no momento pode algum bem causar.
A daydream is a meal at which images are eaten. Some of us are gourmets, some gourmands, and a good many take their images precooked out of a can and swallow them down whole, absent-mindedly and with little relish.
W.H. AudenTag: daydreaming daydream
no poet can know what his poem is going to be like until he has written it.
W.H. AudenA dead man who never caused others to die seldom rates a statue.
W.H. AudenTag: heroes role-models
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And each in the cell of himself is almost convinced of his freedom.
W.H. Audena culture is no better than its woods
W.H. AudenAlthough you be, as I am, one of those
Who feel a Christian ought to write in prose,
For poetry is magic: born in sin, you
May read it to exorcies the Gentile in you.
But if a stranger in the train asks me my occupation, I never answer "writer" for fear that he may go on to ask me what I write, and to answer "poetry" would embarrass us both, for we both know that nobody can earn a living simply by writing poetry.
W.H. AudenTag: poets-on-poetry
When words lose their meaning, physical force takes over.
from an essay for Writers by Nancy Crampton
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