{"id":1742,"date":"2009-07-24T00:19:21","date_gmt":"2009-07-24T06:19:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=1742"},"modified":"2009-07-24T07:38:57","modified_gmt":"2009-07-24T13:38:57","slug":"poetry-friday-would-the-talkers-be-talking","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=1742","title":{"rendered":"Poetry Friday: “Would the talkers be talking?”"},"content":{"rendered":"

YAWP!!!Are ya’ll sick of hearing about how awesome my job is yet? Well, tough, because I have to share this with people who will appreciate it: I got to handle a postcard written by Walt Whitman<\/strong><\/a> today. Just a quick little note he jotted off to a Cornell librarian, no big thing. But his signature, right there, large as life – I kinda teared up a little. <\/p>\n

It got me thinking, and talking to a colleague about, Whitman and his place in the American poetic canon. I’ll admit, I don’t love every single poem the man wrote. He’s got an odd voice: part journalist, part transcendentalist, with a liberal dose of frank sexuality. But there’s no denying his groundbreaking contributions to the free verse form, and the use of poetry as sociopolitical commentary. And at his best, he can seriously stir up the blood.<\/p>\n

Like in this one, “Beat! Beat! Drums!”<\/strong><\/a> Take it, Walt:<\/p>\n

Beat! beat! drums!\u2014blow! bugles! blow!
\nThrough the windows\u2014through doors\u2014burst like a ruthless force,
\nInto the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
\nInto the school where the scholar is studying,
\nLeave not the bridegroom quiet\u2014no happiness must he have now with his bride,
\nNor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,
\nSo fierce you whirr and pound you drums\u2014so shrill you bugles blow.<\/p>\n

Beat! beat! drums!\u2014blow! bugles! blow!
\nOver the traffic of cities\u2014over the rumble of wheels in the streets;
\nAre beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,
\nNo bargainers\u2019 bargains by day\u2014no brokers or speculators\u2014would they continue?
\nWould the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
\nWould the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?
\nThen rattle quicker, heavier drums\u2014you bugles wilder blow.<\/p>\n

Beat! beat! drums!\u2014blow! bugles! blow!
\nMake no parley\u2014stop for no expostulation,
\nMind not the timid\u2014mind not the weeper or prayer,
\nMind not the old man beseeching the young man,
\nLet not the child\u2019s voice be heard, nor the mother\u2019s entreaties,
\nMake even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,
\nSo strong you thump O terrible drums\u2014so loud you bugles blow.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Yeah, that’s<\/em> what I’m talking about. When Whitman is at the top of his game like this… Is it just because he’s known as THE American Poet that my reaction is something close to patriotism? I don’t think so. I mean, yes, he truly loved this country – that is, the people<\/em> of this country – in a way that comes through as loud as those drum beats. But with every poem, every word, even his very life, he refuted convention, flouted authority, flipping a big fat bird at anyone and everything that says “this is how it has been, and therefore this is how it must always be.” And if we’re completely honest, isn’t that<\/em> one of the true principles our country was founded upon?<\/p>\n

* * * * * * *<\/center><\/p>\n

In the mood for more poetry? Me too! Check out this week’s Poetry Friday round-up, hosted by the effervescent Mary Lee at A Year of Reading<\/strong><\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Are ya’ll sick of hearing about how awesome my job is yet? Well, tough, because I have to share this with people who will appreciate it: I got to handle a postcard written by Walt Whitman today. Just a quick little note he jotted off to a Cornell librarian, no big thing. But his signature, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1742","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry-friday"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1742","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1742"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1742\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1742"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1742"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1742"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}