More Sandburg
Here are two more of his poems I've gone back to, and thought about. The last three lines in "Iron" drive the point home for me.
IRON
Guns,
Long, steel guns,
Pointed from the war ships
In the name of the war god.
Straight, shining, polished guns,
Clambered over with jackies in white blouses,
Glory of tan faces, tousled hair, white teeth,
Laughing lithe jackies in white blouses,
Sitting on the guns singing war songs, war chanties.
Shovels,
Broad, iron shovels,
Scooping out oblong vaults,
Loosening turf and leveling sod.
I ask you
To witness--
The shovel is brother to the gun.
---------
The innocence and wonder in this one tugs at my sleeve. Reminds me of my daughter:
CHILD MOON
The child’s wonder
At the old moon
Comes back nightly.
She points her finger
To the far silent yellow thing
Shining through the branches
Filtering on the leaves a golden sand,
Crying with her little tongue, “See the moon!”
And in her bed fading to sleep
With babblings of the moon on her little mouth.
IRON
Guns,
Long, steel guns,
Pointed from the war ships
In the name of the war god.
Straight, shining, polished guns,
Clambered over with jackies in white blouses,
Glory of tan faces, tousled hair, white teeth,
Laughing lithe jackies in white blouses,
Sitting on the guns singing war songs, war chanties.
Shovels,
Broad, iron shovels,
Scooping out oblong vaults,
Loosening turf and leveling sod.
I ask you
To witness--
The shovel is brother to the gun.
---------
The innocence and wonder in this one tugs at my sleeve. Reminds me of my daughter:
CHILD MOON
The child’s wonder
At the old moon
Comes back nightly.
She points her finger
To the far silent yellow thing
Shining through the branches
Filtering on the leaves a golden sand,
Crying with her little tongue, “See the moon!”
And in her bed fading to sleep
With babblings of the moon on her little mouth.
posted by Heather O'Neill | 16.11.05
2 Comments:
Interesting.
I don't know Sandburg's stuff at all. I like the Gypsy one. The Moon one strikes a chord because my daughter is similarily obsessed with the moon. Iron has a real chill about it.
Thanks for posting them.
Welcome. :)
Every time my daughter notices patterns of stars, the different phases of the moon, and other beautiful things in nature for the first time, I get so happy...
I hardly knew Sandburg at all before this year-- except for his little cat foot fog poem. I was fascinated by that one in grade school.
[Anyway, I got to know him after I reached down deep into a box of books my ma-in-law was giving away earlier this year. Mary Oliver was in there too.
Sandburg has a style that is direct and open. From what I've read so far, there isn't intricate lacework going on with his word choices. Instead, his word choices are strong, and the meaning of his poems are clear as a stilled lake.]
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