60 likes | 150 Views
Touch Me by Stanley Kunitz Sean Parsons 11/15/13. This poem is 1 stanza It has 31 lines And it’s a free verse Summer is late, my heart. Words plucked out of the air some forty years ago when I was wild with love and torn almost in two scatter like leaves this night
E N D
This poem is 1 stanza It has 31 lines And it’s a free verse Summer is late, my heart. Words plucked out of the air some forty years ago when I was wild with love and torn almost in two scatter like leaves this night of whistling wind and rain. It is my heart that’s late, it is my song that’s flown. Outdoors all afternoon under a gunmetal sky staking my garden down, I kneeled to the crickets trilling underfoot as if about to burst from their crusty shells; and like a child again marveled to hear so clear and brave a music pour from such a small machine. What makes the engine go? Desire, desire, desire. The longing for the dance stirs in the buried life. One season only, and it’s done. So let the battered old willow thrash against the windowpanes and the house timbers creak. Darling, do you remember the man you married? Touch me, remind me who I am. heart air ago love two night
This is the pictures of the sayings of the to describe and see an image of that section. This is an image of a gunmetal sky outdoors all afternoon under a gunmetal sky. one season only, and it’s done. So let the battered old willow thrash against the windowpanes. This is an image of scattered leaves, summer is late, my heart, words plucked out of the air some forty years ago when I was wild with love and torn almost in two scatter like leaves
About the poet Stanley Kunitz On July 29, 1905, Stanley Kunitz was born in Worcester, Massachusetts. He attended Harvard College, where he received a bachelor's degree in 1926 and a master's degree in 1927 about his own work, Kunitz has said the poem comes in the form of a blessing like rapture breaking on the mind as I tried to phrase it in my youth.Through the years I have found this gift of poetry to be life sustaining, life enhancing, and absolutely unpredictable. Does one live, therefore, for the sake of poetry? No, the reverse is true poetry is for the sakeof Kunitz published his first book of poetry, Intellectual Things, in 1930.f the life.