Definition

One must make a distinction however: when dragged into prominence by half poets, the result is not poetry, nor till the autocrats among us can be “literalists of the imagination”—above insolence and triviality and can present for inspection, imaginary gardens with real toads in them, shall we have it.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

The Tuesday Platform


The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm
by Wallace Stevens

The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.

Please share a poem with us today--new or old--and spend some time reading the work of others. We welcome you to reflect, to share, to enjoy the fellowship of a ragged and earnest world-wide group of writers connected in this space.


14 comments:

brudberg said...

Ah.. sharing poetry and reading others is my favorite thing...

Marian said...

Good morning, friends. Bring on your poems!

Kerry O'Connor said...

What a beautiful poem to inspire the muse today. Thank you for hosting, Marian.

Kim Nelson said...

Wallace Stevens... great way to start any day!

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Hello everyone,

Hope you're having a great week :D sharing my poem "Time" hope you guys like it :D

Thank you Marian for this lovely opportunity :D

Lots of love,
Sanaa

Sherry Blue Sky said...

What a beautiful photo and poem that is!!!!!!!! He drew me into the peacefulness of being deep in a book on a summer night. I love how he did that, so brilliantly.

Marian said...

Speaking for myself, I wanted even just a glimmer of "the world was calm." Love to all of you, I'll be around to visit. xoxo

Laura said...

And so it is. What a beautiful poem and photo to share. Thank you.

Sweeper of Dreams said...

boy i needed this! what a great community, looking forward to the links. beautifully said, and merry meet again.

Marcoantonio Arellano said...

i couldn't be at charleston to hold hands and cross the bridge with the twenty six thousand citizens there but i can hold hands by words

Kerridwen said...

My poem didn't really go in the direction planned.. It'll definitely need reworking later..

Marian said...

Kerridwen, I don't know why I can't figure out how to comment on your blog. What? Sheesh. But, here is what I have to say:

I love this line in your poem so much: "Spain has most of my spine, but my heart is scattered, unwhole. Holey. Phoney." (Not phony!) "... Aloe..." Very clever!

While I'm at it, I think Rallentanda never gets my comments either. I liked your poem too!

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

I enjoyed the Wallace Stevens. That one was new to me. I am late to the party, thought I wouldn't be attending ... but it's hard to resist you toads!

Susmit said...

A late entrant, as always. But nevertheless, have tried to put in my bit.