{"id":100,"date":"2019-09-19T13:11:00","date_gmt":"2019-09-19T13:11:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2019\/09\/19\/a-poem-for-thursday-49\/"},"modified":"2020-10-26T21:09:28","modified_gmt":"2020-10-26T21:09:28","slug":"a-poem-for-thursday-49","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2019\/09\/19\/a-poem-for-thursday-49\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem for a Thursday #49"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Photo by\u00a0<\/span>L\u00e9onard Cotte<\/a>\u00a0on\u00a0<\/span>Unsplash<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

Carl Dennis is an American poet who has won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry. He writes of\u00a0 “quotidian, middle-class life, but beneath the modest, reasonably lighted surfaces of the poems lie unexpected possibilities that create contrast and vibrancy.”<\/p>\n

Today as we walk in Paris I promise to focus<\/i>
\nMore on the sights before us than on the woman<\/i>
\nWe noticed yesterday in the photograph at the print shop,<\/i>
\nThe slender brunette who looked like\u00a0 you<\/i>
\nAs she posed with a violin case by a horse-drawn omnibus<\/i>
\nNear the Luxembourg Gardens. Today I won’t linger long<\/i>
\nOn the obvious point that her name is as lost to history<\/i>
\nAs the name of the graveyard where her bones<\/i>
\nHave been crumbling to dust for over a century.<\/i>
\nThe streets we’re to wander will shine more brightly<\/i>
\nNow that it’s clear the day of her death<\/i>
\nIs of little importance compared to the moment<\/i>
\nCaught in the photograph as she makes her way<\/i>
\nThrough afternoon light like this toward the Seine,<\/i>
\nOr compared to our walk as we pass the Gardens.<\/i>
\nThe cold rain that fell this morning has given way to sunshine.<\/i>
\nThe gleaming puddles reflect our mood<\/i>
\nJust as they reflected hers as she stepped around them<\/i>
\nSmiling to herself, happy that her audition<\/i>
\nWent well this morning. After practicing scales<\/i>
\nFor years in a village whose name isn’t recorded,<\/i>
\nShe can study in Paris with one of the masters<\/i>
\nAnd serve the music according to laws more rigorous<\/i>
\nThan any passed by the grand assemblies of Europe,<\/i>
\nLaws I hope she always tried to obey.\u00a0<\/i>
\nNo way of telling now how close her life\u00a0<\/i>
\nCame to the life she hoped for as she rambled,<\/i>
\nOn the day of the photograph, along the quay.<\/i>
\nAnd why do I need to know it when she herself,<\/i>
\nIf offered a chance to peruse the book of the future,<\/i>
\nWould likely shake her head no and turn away.<\/i>
\nShe wants to focus on the afternoon almost gone<\/i>
\nAs we want to focus now on breathing and savoring<\/i>
\nWhile we stand on the bridge she stood on to watch<\/i>
\nThe steamers push against the current or ease down.<\/i>
\nThis flickering light on the water as boats pass by<\/i>
\nIs the flow that many painters have tried to capture<\/i>
\nWithout holding too still. By the time these boats arrive<\/i>
\nFar off in the provinces and give up their cargoes,<\/i>
\nWho knows where the flow may have carried us?<\/i>
\nBut to think now of our leaving is to wrong the moment.<\/i>
\nWe have to be wholly here as she was<\/i>
\nIf we want the city that welcomed her<\/i>
\nTo welcome us as students trained in her school<\/i>
\nTo enjoy the music as much as she did<\/i>
\nWhen she didn’t grieve that she couldn’t stay<\/i>
\n
\n<\/i>
\nIn Paris<\/i>
\nCarl Dennis<\/p>\n

Brona has shared a poem<\/a> by Wislawa Szymborska this week and Reese<\/a> has one by Auden.
\n
\n<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Photo by\u00a0L\u00e9onard Cotte\u00a0on\u00a0Unsplash Carl Dennis is an American poet who has won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry. He writes of\u00a0 “quotidian, middle-class life, but beneath the modest, reasonably lighted surfaces of the poems lie unexpected possibilities that create contrast and vibrancy.” Today as we walk in Paris I promise to focus More on the sights before us than on the woman We noticed yesterday in the photograph at the print shop, The slender brunette who looked like\u00a0 you As she posed with a violin case by a horse-drawn omnibus Near the Luxembourg Gardens. Today I won’t linger long On the obvious point that her name is as lost to history As the name of the graveyard where her bones Have been crumbling to dust for over a century. The streets we’re to wander will shine more brightly Now that it’s clear the day of her death Is of little importance compared to the moment Caught in the photograph as she makes her way Through afternoon light like this toward the Seine, Or compared to our walk as we pass the Gardens. The cold rain that fell this morning has given way to sunshine. The gleaming puddles reflect our mood Just as they reflected hers as she stepped around them Smiling to herself, happy that her audition Went well this morning. After practicing scales For years in a village whose name isn’t recorded, She can study in Paris with one of the masters And serve the music according to laws more rigorous Than any passed by the grand assemblies of Europe, Laws I hope she always tried to obey.\u00a0 No way of telling now how close her life\u00a0 Came to the life she hoped for as she rambled, On the day of the photograph, along the quay. And why do I need to know it when she herself, If offered a chance to peruse the book of the future, Would likely shake her head no and turn away. She wants to focus on the afternoon almost gone As we want to focus now on breathing and savoring While we stand on the bridge she stood on to watch The steamers push against the current or ease down. This flickering light on the water as boats pass by Is the flow that many painters have tried to capture Without holding too still. By the time these boats arrive Far off in the provinces and give up their cargoes, Who knows where the flow may have carried us? But to think now of our leaving is to wrong the moment. We have to be wholly here as she was If we want the city that welcomed her To welcome us as students trained in her school To enjoy the music as much as she did When she didn’t grieve that she couldn’t stay In Paris Carl Dennis Brona has shared a poem by Wislawa Szymborska this week and Reese has one by Auden.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1714,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-100","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=100"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2561,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/100\/revisions\/2561"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1714"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=100"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=100"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=100"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}