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Re: Stuffing For Pinsky’s Pick; Hardy Soars Above The Flock
I don't know why anyone would find it objectionable for Robert Pinsky to use his position to encourage other known poets to participate in these monthly discussions. Think what you may of their skills as poets, the commentaries are first rate, and there is a chance for us to discuss our likes and dislikes with writers who'd otherwise be ...
Posted to Poems by Ted Burke on January 3, 2009
Thomas Hardy for Inauguration Poet
Vanity on my part, yes, but I've combined my contributions to the Hardy discussion, adding a remark or two in the process. -tb _________________________ Thomas Hardy finds something beyond his idea of reality that gives him hope despite the rigors of crisis and tumult in his poem The Darkling Thrush, published this week in Slate by poetry ...
Posted to Poems by Ted Burke on January 3, 2009
An odious reversal, a fine monologue
A monologue in essence, the essence of which is the voice of what we consume processed and reduced to it's fouler essences in turn. This is the food we eat and the drinks we imbibe with all the cosmetics of preparation removed, after all the benefits (nutrition, energy) and debits ( obesity, high blood pressure) have been had. Insulted, railed ...
Posted to Poems by Ted Burke on December 18, 2008
You eat what you think you're eating
You eat what you think you’re eating A knife , fork and a cracked plate don’t constitute a meal , though all three items are handy for show, as are empty frames on the wall when there is any kind of company visiting , who demand our attention, taxes, documents of your legal rights, you just say it’s the wall ...
Posted to Poems by Ted Burke on December 3, 2008
Choice poem from Rita Dove
''Hayden Leaves London'' has more the feel of an historical novel rather than that of a poem, and a smart choice by Rita Dove to emphasis a poetic prose rather than prosaic stanzas; the latitude allows a resemblance of an interior monologue, not unlike that we find in Faulkner or Woolf, that allows a lyric impressionism that still allows one to ...
Posted to Poems by Ted Burke on December 2, 2008
Beyond November 22nd
It seemed for years that we were caught in a loop of empty testimonials and evocations each time November 22nd happened upon the calendar page, an increasingly hallow chorus of platitudes and crumbling cliches centering around the promise of the late John F.Kennedy's administration and how that road to our destined Eden was bombed, blasted and dug ...
Posted to Politics by Ted Burke on November 22, 2008
November 22
It seemed for years that we were caught in a loop of empty testimonials and evocations each time November 22nd happened upon the calendar page, an increasingly hallow chorus of platitudes and crumbling cliches centering around the promise of the late John F.Kennedy's administration and how that road to our destined Eden was bombed, blasted and dug ...
Posted to Poems by Ted Burke on November 22, 2008
Re: There Was a Man of Double Deed
One could read it as a mind in free-association on the edge of death – the ''double deed'', living and dying at once. The man of double deed seems to be one who is not what he seems, someone superficially in our presence who seems friendly enough but who has an undisclosed purpose and reasoning in his dealings. Because the man is viewed ...
Posted to Poems by Ted Burke on November 16, 2008
Re: "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose"
Thanks for the thoughtful reading, Joe. You're pretty much on the money , and I agree with your remark about knuckles and fist being used in this poem; grammatically it needs to be ''become'', not ''becomes''. I like the word ''skyline'' since what I was describing was the Los Angeles River as the Amtrak pulls into Union Station; the Hooverville ...
Posted to Poems by Ted Burke on November 16, 2008
This goes without saying: COMMENTS WELCOME
This goes without saying Settle your accountswith dimes and nickelsgripped with fingers fickleto what they'll touchas this life is one long vacation, Too much grinningstation to station at the drainage riversfamous for graffiti forestsand villages made fromrefrigerator boxes, there's little to laugh atwhen it rains and the waterfinds the incline ...
Posted to Poems by Ted Burke on November 15, 2008

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