10 Comments

Noah, I really enjoyed reading this analysis. It’s my birthday today, and this analysis feels like a gift- not only is it about poetry, but a poem about a goddess (or at least with a goddess) and some feminist ideas too. Thank you. I know that poetry analysis doesn’t pay the bills, but it does take some readers to a good place. I’m off to read Dove’s poem now.

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Also the second stanza is deeply weird. Is the narrator Kore, seeing herself? The repetition of the word “move” in the penultimate stanza suggests something- an echo of the second stanza.

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Yes, the poem is very odd! Creeley's poems are strange in general. I really like Dove's Persephone poems too (and her work in general.)

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I appreciate you sharing your thoughts on this poem. Thinking about it has been a respite for me from our contemporary (i.e., political) turmoil.

Thanks, Violet

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Nice. I'm more in the Stevens line of poetic tradition. I do have one on Persephone but it isn't really in either tradition. It was me wondering how Demeter felt when visiting Persephone: the need of a mother to support her child vs the dismay at what the result was as well as the possible reason Persephone decided to eat that pomegranate--three whole months away from Mum.

Now don't you think that just because

I've come such distance

you need to entertain me. I'm quite content

to amuse myself, take walks along the river,

throw the dog his sops. You mustn't put

yourself or Hades out on my account. If you don't mind,

I'll have a little water? Don't get up,

just tell me where the goblets are; I'll rinse

one out myself.

--

Your home is very chic, quite grand, much nicer

than the humble bower

your father and I began with. Your decorating is

original, but each to her own I always say. A wee bit

dark perhaps? I must remember, after I go back,

to send some brighter curtains and, I think,

towels for the guest room; you should tell the maid to dust

a shade more carefully: behind the throne, not just

where souls can see.

--

You've filled out quite a lot. It suits you

now. When next you come

to visit me we'll have to find a seamstress to

let out that gown. You should find ways

to exercise more. Remember Aunty Hera, you have

her build, a tendency to turn a little

statuesque. Men like a sapling, better than

an oak. My dear, are you quite sure you need

a second pomegranate?

--

It's good to see you happy. I worried so. Your

elopement was, how shall I say,

a little irregular. Neighbors do talk, but I

held up my head. Well, maybe I did let suffering

alter my mood a smidgeon. Maybe I smote the earth

a trifle hard. It was a difficult time but really

all that matters is my baby's happiness,

so don't feel even the least bit guilty, no,

no, never that.

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thanks for sharing that!

Dove has a whole sequence of Persephone sonnets in her book "Mother Love" I think.

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There are so many fascinating pieces of poetry and prose about this story.

I can't think of many that I haven't enjoyed. "L’Esprit de L’Escalier" by Catherynne M. Valente is one of my favorite prose takes.

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I should check out her poems! I’ve enjoyed a couple of the novels.

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This is a short story. Her substack left me a little cold, but I can't dislike the work I loved before I found the substack.

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I really appreciate this. I don't read much poetry, and both the poem and your notes are interesting to puzzle over/think through.

The stanza that I find myself most drawn to is the second. I read that as coming from an (implied) narrator, and a shift in tone from the first stanza. Coming upon chance walking sounds like, whatever it means, a noteworthy event. But in the second stanza I read the narrator as struggling with their own exhaustion / dis-motivation.

As I sat down

by chance to move

later

if and as I might,

Sounds very much like someone trying to talk themselves into the idea that, any moment, know they're going to get up and start moving again (I write this while procrastinating on other things I should be doing), with the words "later" and "if" signaling that the movement, which may happen, is not immediate.

Separately (and I don't think this association illuminates the poem at all, but is just an odd echo) in my head the first stanza keeps wondering into the opening of "Arthur McBride" --

"Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride

As we went a-walking down by the seaside

Now, mark what followed and what did betide

..."

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