Two Poems
2016; Boston University; Volume: 24; Issue: 3 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1353/arn.2016.0033
ISSN2327-6436
Autores ResumoTwo Poems PATRICK O’DONNELL on the boulevard Mars marches now with privileged Pluto, Parading down the Via Veneto, Soldiers on furlough, big-chested, mighty, Caroling: “Where is Golden Aphrodite?” Where indeed is she who glistens in two tongues? They believe she may be having tea At a yellow round table. Prosaic stuff, but easy on the lads, Stalwart Romans who tell themselves She reads a novel, dreams of ardor And waits for them to come. Too late will they know her truth. She plays by the old rules, Antiques of amorous decorum. Venus may tumble from ledges and fall before trains, But Aphrodite entertains her friends With secret gifts in gilded beds. They pass her by, our smiling Aphrodite, Covert in repose, but resolute, Wrists and ankles more perfect than she knows. Unsurrendered Aphrodite moves a thigh With a shuffle of silk on skin, And tilts toward the coming scene. arion 24.3 winter 2017 once were warriors Odysseus wept, as did Arjuna, not in defeat, Not in despair and not in evidence of young loves lost. They wept in simple sadness, sometimes in remorse, When fellows and beloved left life behind and Took themselves beyond this dream into another, For joy and pain again, deaths irrevocable. They could not summon into breath the life They knew would come, when on another hill They saw the halting gaits of old retainers, Telling them that they were home and safe. These sturdy, angry, wily men struck camp When they had no choice and could not invent A better peace, filled with all they loved. Nor could imagination bring to them, bereft, Conjured views of armies in collision, swords And dripping blades swinging with no thought through The friends of other men, whose weeping would begin When in simple sadness they could hear again The silenced voices, at late nights in the tent, confiding Whispered plans for paradise at home. two poems 88 ...
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