city life

[Dave]

city life

I have never stood on a volcano,
been to a Pacific atoll,
warmed myself in a geyser,
skiied at speed down a mountain,
enjoyed the panorma from an eternity
pool. From my balcony on a clear night
I make out five pale stars in search of luster.
The waves on the local lake are unsurfable,
its fish fit in the palm of my hand,
I throw them back, hungry,
me that is, not the fish.
The birds don't leave in winter
or return in spring since long ago
they departed forever. Still, the dogs
are well fed and pop their poop
into plastic bags.

I am not aware of the history of trees
and the names of flowers escape me,
some fancy frilled yellow ones
congregate around a mossy lawn

so, it is in the nature of things
that I can only write about absence
and the sensation of dislocation,
a vague sense of being lost.

[Colm Roe]

Like this a lot Dave.
I have stood on volcanoes, witnessed Monserrat's (1996 I think) massive eruption, close up, from a (small) speedboat we hired when we were in Antigua.
I've felt the heat from Iceland's geysers, seen the Milky Way in all its glory. Am surrounded by all types of wonderful creatures (birds, badgers, foxes, bats, deer), while still being only a few miles from the centre of a city. Dublin being so small I'm lucky I suppose.
Far away fields are greener. I'll never be able to walk a few hundred yards to a theatre.
You explore the topic well. Like the (ironic) revelation about feeling dislocated while obviously surrounded by other people.
The last S wraps it up very well.
If I had my way I'd move as far away as possible from any city

[Dave]

Thanks Colm
Actually the poem arose from a realisation that poetry essentially seems to be a bucolic pastime. It seems surprisingly difficult to produce urban poems.
 

[AlienFlower]

Hi Dave

Actually the poem arose from a realisation that poetry essentially seems to be a bucolic pastime. It seems surprisingly difficult to produce urban poems.

I've had this trouble, too, but remind myself that Carl Sandburg wrote about a city in this poem:

FOG

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

I don't find a whole city inspiring, but single images are hiding everywhere.

Enjoyed your poem,

Jackie
 

[Mark]

 It seems surprisingly difficult to produce urban poems.

Dave. That observation of yours is what triggered my underworld poem post here. 
I agree with you, it's mostly flowers, waterfalls, sobbing moons and things of that ilk. Although, ironically, I do have an urban piece originally titled Dave, a wild guess about life in Hamburg.
What I like about this piece is the calm acceptance by the N that heroic endeavours are not in his destiny and he instead finds fulfilment in appreciation of the ordinary - a good thing generally, it's always later than we think.   

 

[Tracy Mitchell]

Fascinating poem and following discussion.  I take the poem as a depressed Narrator's lament for the sterility of city life -- even the birds are gone.  More broadly, though, this Narrator feels increasingly disconnected from the natural world, in a lessening of the presence of the natural world.  The waves are unsurfable, the stars unseeable, and even the flowers and trees  unappealing.  

We have heard and read of 'urban pastorals', and I think this Narrator also has difficulty accepting the urban [psychic] landscape as a scene or backdrop for serious writing.  Baudelaire thought the bizarre, alienated chop of [then] emerging urban life demanded a poetic lyrical response of free verse over the more pastoral metered poetry of the time.  He considered the true nature of man to be revealed through the debauchery of urban life, and a staccato dialectic provided the proper voice.

Of course other writers have treated the subject.  I have always been moved by Mark Strand -- Elegy 1969.  See http://www.poetrymountain.com/authors/markstrand.html

As to how to write an urban poem-- a poem about the characters and cultural gestalt -- I recommend James Arlington Wright -- The Minneapolis Poem.  See https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/ ... polis-poem

You got my head buzzing, Dave.  

T