April is Poetry Month: Day 25

 Today's poem is by one-time Poet Laureate, Stanley Kunitz (1905-2006) He was 5 years old when Halley's Comet was visible from his birthplace, Worcester, MA. When he was nearly 90, the memory of that encounter. which had been simmering so long, finally emerged as a poem.

Halley's Comet

Miss Murphy in first grade

wrote its name in chalk

across the board and told us

it was roaring down the storm tracks

of the Milky Way at frightful speed

and it it wandered off its course

and smashed into the earth

there'd be no school tomorrow.

A red-bearded preacher from the hills

with a wild look in his eyes

stood in the public square

at the playground's edge

proclaiming he was sent by God

to save every one of us,

even the little children,

"Repent, ye sinners!" he shouted,

waving his hand-lettered sign.

At supper I felt sad to think

that it was probably

the last meal I'd share

with my mother and my sisters;

but I felt excited too

and scarcely touched my plate.

So mother scolded me

and sent me early to my room.

The whole family's asleep

except for me. They never heard me steal

into the stairwell hall and climb

the ladder to the fresh night air.

Look for me, Father, on the roof

of the red brick building

at the foot of Green Street--

that's where we live, you know, on the top floor

I'm the boy in the white flannel gown

sprawled on this coarse gravel bed

searching the starry sky,

waiting for the world to end.

From: Fooling With Words: A Celebration of Poets and Their Craft, Bill Moyers, William Morrow & Co, 1999.

    For the Harry Potter fans among us, there are all sorts of wizarding items that would be so wonderful to possess; a magic wand, of course, Harry's "cloak of invisibility', various unique modes of travel, and one of my favorites, the Pensieve.  

    You would have to be admitted into Dumbledore's sanctuary, certainly, but once there, you could look into its shallow stone basin filled with a silvery cloud-like liquid/gas and see the memories that had been siphoned into it.

    In our non-magical muggle world, we do not have the Pensieve, but we do have poetry, which Kunitz's used for the same effect in "Halley's Comet".  Though miles and years separated him from that childhood experience and even more miles and years separate him from me--still his experience has now become mine.  I enrich it by pulling in my own experience; an encounter with my parents, a dark summer night and a UFO.  Perhaps I will write about that some time, maybe, it is even now on its way to becoming a poem.

    Looks like Fooling With Words will be added to my reading pile.  Bill Moyers is always engaging, insightful and very readable--or maybe I'll just watch the documentary--there are limits on high my pile can grow!