Since I have exhausted myself of every conceivable topic under the sun to write about (except, of course, my MBA application essay which has driven me to the point of near-insanity), I have decided to post one of my favourite poems here. For some strange reason, people prefer reading poems through e-mails from friends or blogs than go and read it themselves. Maybe I can spice up things a bit by rummaging through my memory stacks (Ugh, that came from an ex-software engineer!) and trying to relive my impressions when I first read the poem… Oh, I find the words flowing from my fingers on to the keyboard. Maybe I shouldn’t post a poem after all. Maybe I should blog about something. But there is not one thing that I can think of. Or maybe I can blog about the weather. In India, one seldom makes conversation about the weather. But in other parts of the world, the weather jostles with politics for the prime spot in the conversation process, I guess… Now that I’ve allowed my fingers and mind to play truant and faithfully noted down everything that ran through my head during the past two minutes, I better say that the weather has been fabulous over the past few days. Brilliant sunshine, cool air and the lovely heat… Not tortuous or burning but life-giving and uplifting. Oh, my steady flow of words seems to be petering out. Oh, it has turned tough to write or say anything. I’m groping for words… Darn!
Here’s one of my favourite poems. It comes with a quiet surprise in the end and you cannot but fall in love with its quiet charm and mystery. fugney and shivshankar, I bet the two of you will like this as well. trycatchdenz, I am sorry if I’ve sent this to you earlier… rest of you, enjoy!
The Connoisseuse of Slugs
When I was a connoisseuse of slugs
I would part the ivy leaves, and look for the
naked jelly of those gold bodies,
translucent strangers glistening along the
stones, slowly, their gelatinous bodies
at my mercy. Made mostly of water, they would shrivel
to nothing if they were sprinkled with salt,
but I was not interested in that. What I liked
was to draw aside the ivy, breathe the
odor of the wall, and stand there in silence
until the slug forgot I was there
and sent its antennae up out of its
head, the glimmering umber horns
rising like telescopes, until finally the
sensitive knobs would pop out the
ends, delicate and intimate. Years later,
when I first saw a naked man,
I gasped with pleasure to see that quiet
mystery reenacted, the slow
elegant being coming out of hiding and
gleaming in the dark air, eager and so
trusting you could weep.
— Sharon Olds
fugney says:
Nope. Didn’t “get” it. OHT(Over Head transmission). Was the naked man from a … ummmm.. a concentration camp?
September 30, 2004 — 8:03 am
Lakshmi says:
🙂
Ok, for my interpretation on the poem… I assume that Olds is comparing the complete lack of candour and inhibition with which the slug unfurls its antennae with the *willing unveiling* of the male body. Guess you know what I’m referring to; I can’t get clearer than that! It’s about the trusting innocence in the two acts; it’s so pure and charming that you could weep at the sheer lack of guile or motive.
Are you any clearer???
September 30, 2004 — 10:48 am
romad says:
That’s a nice interpretation of the poem.
🙂
Cheers,
Someone who *does* enjoy reading poems on blogs.
September 30, 2004 — 11:30 am
Lakshmi says:
Is there any other interpretation? Please enlighten….
September 30, 2004 — 11:42 am
fugney says:
Actually I thought that might have been the case too. But somehow I thought the poem wasn’t sensual enough to be talking about sex… so I went with the concentraion camp theory… helpless and stuff….
October 1, 2004 — 2:33 am
fugney says:
I found that a little weird, earlier, but now I find it romantic, with “pyaar ke pal” playing in the background…. hope it’s not a myth.
October 1, 2004 — 2:56 am
Lakshmi says:
Well, that’s your take on it.
October 1, 2004 — 11:09 am
lalunadiosa says:
Ooooh I remember you sending me this poem some years ago and me loving it….
Glad you posted it ‘cos it’s always fun to visit old friends!!!!
And I confess…yes I am one of the people who prefer reading poems through e-mails from friends or blogs than go and read it themselves.
🙂
September 30, 2004 — 8:18 am
Lakshmi says:
Well, I derive a lot of pleasure from introducing my favourite poems to my friends… I am never one to complain! I love it..:-)
September 30, 2004 — 10:49 am
parag says:
For some strange reason, people prefer reading poems through e-mails from friends or blogs than go and read it themselves.
I am not one of these people that you describe. I just don’t read poems… period. If it is anything more than a limerick or a haiku, I get lost. Especially the ones that don’t rhyme. Why not complete the damned sentence and make it proper prose? 😉 I like to read the prose that you write on your LJ but, all poems are skipped.
September 30, 2004 — 10:06 am
Lakshmi says:
Thanks…:-)
September 30, 2004 — 10:44 am
srusrid says:
you know lakshmi,this poem is so lovely.you can feel the slug, experience it and finally be amazed by it…
there’s a certain feel which i get when i read something like this, the other side of life which probably the “artistic” ones look at ; the creative side that lends life tis beauty and mystery!
September 30, 2004 — 11:30 am
Lakshmi says:
I love the poem too…But strangely, the feel that you described is alien to me. Not that it matters…:-)
September 30, 2004 — 11:44 am
Lakshmi says:
Et tu, Brutus…:-)
September 30, 2004 — 12:55 pm
shivshanker says:
Neat 🙂 the innocence is surprising… u know a long while ago u had sent a poem on flipping a coin to make a decision (very crudely put summary)? do u have that one?
September 30, 2004 — 10:48 pm
Lakshmi says:
Ohh.. I recall it faintly. Do you have any idea how it starts… poet’s name, title.. anything?
October 1, 2004 — 11:10 am