Teresa Ballard has a strong post this morning about the power of images. What images or lines stick--will always stick--with you, even when you can no longer remember your name? she asks.
Gatsby's shirts spilled out all over the bed.
Promise me you will not forget Portofino.
The post leads me to a question about sticky images, images that stick: out of curiosity, if I say, of a poem written by a well-known poet in the last 40 years, if I speak of "the dried peach halves poem"--do you know which poem I mean? Please answer in the comments box, just yes or no, not with the title and poet. No googling, but also no embarrassment if you don't know--it may be that you did not choose to read this poet, or that the image simply didn't stick, or that (p'raps admirably) the idea of reducing a poem to one image and the question seem crass, wrong-minded, or unfair to you. If you prefer, answer anonymously.
So: I say "dried peach halves": do you know which poem I mean: yes or no?
13 comments:
Dried peach halves. Yep. I know that one.
Oops, I posted the poem before I read not to. But, yes, I know it. Also, I love Spencer Reece.
(Hi--I've been lurking for awhile. Saw your website in your bio for Bloom. Good stuff.)
Hi, V, good to meet you (and yes, that's the poem)--in addition to Reece, we share a number of other interests (carbonated water, women, Dancer in the Dark, etc.)...I'm excited to check out your blog. Thanks.
Damn it, how come I didn't know that!!
I've a list of favorite American poems-- 20th cent. [I have a list for everything... somewhere] The poem is on my list. What I like most about the poem is that, by a casual look, it doesn't seem like much of anything. Once you read it though, you know you've been touched by greatness.
Yes.
When I showed that poem to my father, who was something of a traditionalist, at least in regards to poetry, he told me that it wasn't a poem and proceeded to rewrite it with a rhyme scheme and meter.
I still have that sheet of yellow legal paper with his version of the poem neatly written out in his distinctive engineer's print folded in half and tucked inside that book.
Dried peach halves. Yup.
...And ever since yesterday that poem has been flitting about in my head. Which is a bit ... less than comfy. Yep, it's a sticky one.
Yes.
Yes. Yes.
Yes, I know, though I remembered it as apricot halves so I googled to make sure. I have no damn memory of Gatsby's shirts, though.
Yes. I have the book and have also heard it read on NPR.
Good post and good points.
omg. yes. i still can't eat ANY dried fruit without thinking of this poem!
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