1961 Times Three: Selected Verse from Three Decades, by Phyllis McGinley
Epitaphs for Three Prominent Persons
The Independent
So open was his mind, so wide
To welcome winds from every side
That public weather took dominion,
Sweeping him bare of all opinion.
The Statesman
He did not fear his enemies
Nor their despiteful ends,
But not the seraphs on their knees
Could save him from his friends.
The Demagogue
That trumpet tongue which taught a nation
Loud lessons in vituperation
Teaches it yet another, viz.:
How sweet the noise of silence is.
Commentary- I love how the book is constructed: first section, her writings from the 1950s, next section, from the 40s, third section from the 30s, so you you’re starting with the more sophisticated writing. Her poems have personality, charm, humor, intellect, and skill. It’s a page turner cause the topics she writes about are intriguing. Great collection.
This poem from the 1950s captures her sophistication (as some others show cuteness). “viz.” means namely, or that is. A demagogue is a political leader who gains power by appealing to people's emotions, fears, and prejudices instead of using rational arguments and facts (Wikipedia). Vituperation is language that is full of hate, or angry criticism. A seraph is an angel — a heavenly, human-like creature with wings.
My opinion: 9/10 Accessible for the average reader, especially those who like rhymes. Makes you smile.
1962 Poems, by Alan Dugan
forthcoming
1963 Pictures from Brueghel, by William Carlos Williams
forthcoming
1964 At the End of the Open Road, by Louis Simpson
forthcoming
1965 77 Dream Songs, John Berrymman
forthcoming
1966 Selected Poems, by Richard Eberhart
forthcoming
1967 Live or Die, by Anne Sexton
Consorting with Angels
I was tired of being a woman,
tired of the spoons and the post,
tired of my mouth and my breasts,
tired of the cosmetics and the silks.
There were still men who sat at my table,
circled around the bowl I offered up.
The bowl was filled with purple grapes
and the flies hovered in for the scent
and even my father came with his white bone.
But I was tired of the gender things.
Last night I had a dream
and I said to it…
"You are the answer.
You will outlive my husband and my father."
In that dream there was a city made of chains
where Joan was put to death in man's clothes
and the nature of the angels went unexplained,
no two made in the same species,
one with a nose, one with an ear in its hand,
one chewing a star and recording its orbit,
each one like a poem obeying itself,
performing God's functions,
a people apart.
"You are the answer,"
I said, and entered,
lying down on the gates of the city.
Then the chains were fastened around me
and I lost my common gender and my final aspect.
Adam was on the left of me
and Eve was on the right of me,
both thoroughly inconsistent with the world of reason.
We wove our arms together
and rode under the sun.
I was not a woman anymore,
not one thing or the other.
O daughters of Jerusalem,
the king has brought me into his chamber.
I am black and I am beautiful.
I've been opened and undressed.
I have no arms or legs.
I'm all one skin like a fish.
I'm no more a woman
than Christ was a man.
Commentary- I wonder if she discovered something about herself by writing this. Like, Oh, I didn’t know I felt that way. “You are the answer” she says twice. Was Jesus the answer, who was there in her blackness. Did the angels undress her and make her exposed and vulnerable to her higher self? She’s leaving her world and all its conventions behind, but I’m not sure how she feels about that. Is she satisfied now with her new Jerusalem?
Love Sylvia. Her poems are strong. Interesting for me to see a woman’s struggles that I don’t often hear about.
My opinion: 10/10