POEM OF THE DAY: Frank O’Hara

       ANIMALS

Have you forgotten what we were like then
when we were still first rate
and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth

it’s no use worrying about Time
but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves
and turned some sharp corners

the whole pasture looked like our meal
we didn’t need speedometers
we could manage cocktails out of ice and water

I wouldn’t want to be faster
or greener than now if you were with me O you
were the best of all my days

[1950]

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GENTLEMAN’S AGREEMENT 1947

Starring Gregory Peck as Philip Schuyler Green, Dorothy McGuire as Kathy Lacy and John Garfield as David Goldman, the 1947 movie directed by Elia Kazan makes the list for my top 5 favourite Gregory Peck movies.

The movie follows the story of a widowed journalist (Gregory Peck), living in New York with his son, Tommy, and mother. Green decides to write a piece on anti-Semitism and ‘becomes Jewish’ for six months in order to personally experience the reality of anti-Semitic attitudes.

The film explores themes of prejudice and bigotry in society and does so in a raw and honest manner.

Gentleman’s Agreement received a generally positive review from the New York Times and was one of Fox’s highest grossing movies of 1947.

Awards:
NOMINATED:

  • Academy Award for Best Actor – Gregory Peck
  • Academy Award for Best Actress – Dorothy McGuire
  • Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress – Anne Revere
  • Academy Award for Film Editing – Harmon Jones
  • Academy Award for Best Writing, Screenplay – Moss Hart

WON

  • Academy Award for Best Picture – 20th Century fox (Darryl F. Zanuck)
  • Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress – Celeste Holm
  • Academy Award for Directing – Elia Kazan

POEM OF THE DAY: CAROL ANN DUFFY- Valentine

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.

Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

Carol Ann Duffy

POEM OF THE DAY: WALT WHITMAN- O’ Captain! My Captain!

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills; 10
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman

POEM OF THE DAY: E.E CUMMINGS- You Are Tired (I Think)

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I’ll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart

While the moon comes out of the sea

 

e.e cummings .

QUOTES OF THE DAY: TED HUGHES

“Nobody wanted your dance,
Nobody wanted your strange glitter, your floundering
Drowning life and your effort to save yourself,
Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil,
Looking for something to give.”
― Ted Hughes Birthday Letters

“The dreamer in her
Had fallen in love with me and she did not know it.
That moment the dreamer in me
Fell in love with her and I knew it”
– Ted Hughes Birthday Letters

Imagine what you are writing about.
See it and live it. Do not think it up laboriously, as if you were working out mental arithmetic.
Just look at it, touch it, smell it, listen to it, turn yourself into it.
When you do this, the words look after themselves, like magic.”
― Ted Hughes Poetry in the Making: An Anthology

“And you will never know what a battle
I fought to keep the meaning of my words
Solid with the world we were making.”
– Ted Hughes Birthday Letters  

“Your temples, where the hair crowded in,
Were the tender place. Once to check
I dropped a file across the electrodes
of a twelve-volt battery — it exploded
Like a grenade. Somebody wired you up.
Somebody pushed the lever. They crashed
The thunderbolt into your skull.
In their bleached coats, with blenched faces,
They hovered again
To see how you were, in your straps.
Whether your teeth were still whole.
The hand on the calibrated lever
Again feeling nothing
Except feeling nothing pushed to feel
Some squirm of sensation. Terror
Was the cloud of you
Waiting for these lightnings. I saw
An oak limb sheared at a bang.
You your Daddy’s leg. How many seizures
Did you suffer this god to grab you
By the roots of the hair? The reports
Escaped back into clouds. What went up
Vaporized? Where lightning rods wept copper
And the nerve threw off its skin
Like a burning child
Scampering out of the bomb-flash. They dropped you
A rigid bent bit of wire
Across the Boston City grid. The lights
In the Senate House dipped
As your voice dived inwards
Right through the bolt-hole basement.
Came up, years later,
Over-exposed, like an X-ray —
Brain-map still dark-patched
With the scorched-earth scars
Of your retreat. And your words,
Faces reversed from the light,
Holding in their entrails. ”
– Ted Hughes The Tender Place from Birthday Letters – 1998