Hirst's formaldehyd shark and Michelangelo's Isaiah‘Peaches, Plums, and the Sistine Chapel’: Poems by Susan Jarvis Bryant The Society February 21, 2024 Art, Culture, Pantoum, Poetry 43 Comments . . Peaches, Plums, and the Sistine Chapel . . I. Pondering Prufrock a pantoum . The women come and then they go As foggy muzzles nuzzle air. There’s talk of Mike and Angelo. Time strides the beach with hoary hair. . As foggy muzzles nuzzle air On tea and necktie afternoons, Time strides the beach with hoary hair. I measure moons in coffee spoons. . On tea and necktie afternoons With mermaids singing, each to each, I measure moons in coffee spoons. Will Alfred dare to eat a peach? . With mermaids singing, each to each, With twilight spread across the sky, Will Alfred dare to eat a peach? I wonder why I wonder why. . With twilight spread across the sky There’s talk of Mike and Angelo. I wonder why I wonder why The women come and then they go. . . II. Not Plum Crazy I saw the cold plums in the icebox today. I spied them right next to the chocolate topped torte I know you were saving for Sunday dessert. Forgive me. My gluttony led me astray. . The tang on my tongue was so dark, rich, and lush All swathed in a glorious swirl of ganache, And splashed with a dash of ambrosial panache— A silken sweet melt with a cocoa-kissed rush… . Oh, so much depends on the succor of snacks On rainwater-glazing red-wheelbarrow days Beside the white chickens all dazed by my blaze Of hunger as sharp as a fowl-slaying axe… . I’m high on the hit of those last yummy crumbs. Please do help yourself to a couple of plums. . First published in Snakeskin . III. Mourning Michelangelo Today the once praised David is a bore— An eyesore of a sculpture that alarms The blue-haired, blowhard buzzkills who ignore All old-fart art devoid of modern charms. The zealot set prefer the cringy craft Of unmade beds and severed heads and dead Formaldehyde-dipped critters plus a raft Of danse-macabre dalliances with dread. Pietà-lauding troglodytes are cursed By dons deriding wonders of a skill That soars beyond the pervy verve of Hirst Who thrills the highbrow hacks with every spill Of offal from a coffer-filling cow. Oh, how I miss that Sistine-Chapel Wow! . . Hirst: Damien Hirst, reportedly the UK’s richest living artist, focuses on death in his work – famous especially for the use of dead animals (dissected and in formaldehyde). . First published on Expansive Poetry Online . . . . Susan Jarvis Bryant has poetry published on Lighten Up Online, Snakeskin, Light, Sparks of Calliope, and Expansive Poetry Online. She also has poetry published in TRINACRIA, Beth Houston’s Extreme Formal Poems anthology, and in Openings (anthologies of poems by Open University Poets in the UK). Susan is the winner of the 2020 International SCP Poetry Competition, and has been nominated for the 2022 Pushcart Prize. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. Trending now: 43 Responses Joseph S. Salemi February 21, 2024 These are three wonderfully playful spoofs on some of the silliness in modernism. The Prufrock pantoum is especially delightful. “Not Plum Crazy” is a deft evisceration of those two iconic W.C. Williams poems on plums, chickens, and wheelbarrows. When the speaker argues that who would want plums when you can have an elaborate piece of pastry, she is making an analogous comment on a sane reader’s preference for well-crafted formal verse, rather than for the skimpy, unsatisfying fare offered by most modernists. I had never heard of this Damien Hirst character, but there is another artist (a German – what else?) who creates works of art out of human corpses, which he preserves with embalming fluids and dessication and then twists into grotesque shapes, some of them disgustingly sexual. Such is “art” today. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Thank you very much for your generous and informative comment, Joe. I’m thrilled you enjoyed the pantoum… what better form to navigate the repetitive complexities of a poem that still intrigues me to this day. You are spot on with the plums. As for Damien Hirst, I thought he was as bad as it got on the scale of the grotesque. The German “artist” you mention sounds so depraved, I can’t bring myself to look. When the art world sinks this low, it’s a long and arduous climb back to truth and beauty, and for those who have witnessed art at its finest, it’s heartbreaking. Reply jd February 21, 2024 Three excellent poems as usual. You are so prolific, Susan, and always in a beautifully crafted way. And also, as usual, I love reading Mr. Salemi’s “takes”. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 jd, it’s always lovely to hear from you, and thank you very much indeed for your kind and appreciative words. We are so fortunate on this site to have an area to discuss our poems and lovers of poetry who enlighten us all with their enriching takes. Reply Roy Eugene Peterson February 21, 2024 Can any collective title be more compelling to read than “Plums, Peaches, and the Sistine Chapel?” “Talk of Mike and Angelo” is an inspired phrase for those unversed in antiquities. That chocolate torte did not stand a chance of surviving until time for dessert! I am thankful I never heard of Hirst or saw a picture of his “offal” so-called sculptures. Dr. Salemi’s comments always are educational and contribute to any of our poems fascinating facts and perspective. Sometimes I believe Susan is Artemis, for her words and phrases always hit their target. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Roy, what a wonderful comment. I am over the moon my words hit the spot on the plums front… how could one choose a plum over that decadent dessert?! It was my duty as a poet to hurl those plums into the past where they belong… step aside Mr. Williams, the chocolate topped torte is the new plum. And Roy, please do stay away from those awful offal sculptures… one’s day is most certainly not enhanced by viewing such abominations. Thank you very much for your continued encouragement and your appreciation – it means a lot. Reply Cynthia Erlandson February 21, 2024 Your takeoff on Prufrock had me laughing all the way through! “Mike and Angelo,” indeed! Every line is a delight! I hope that the poetry world will come to depend much more on your compositions than on Williams’ red wheelbarrow, or the cash cow you reference in “Mourning Michelangelo”. Thanks for the fun! Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Cynthia, it pleases me no end to think that my pantoum had you laughing… fun is what I was aiming for, so you have made my day. Thank you! Reply Norma Pain February 21, 2024 Thoroughly enjoyable poetry. Thank you Susan. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Norma, thank you very much indeed. Coming from a poet who always writes enjoyable poetry, your words mean a lot. Reply Mary Gardner February 21, 2024 Susan, these are superb. Your flawless poems always keep the reader entranced to the end. When my grandson said “Fog” was the worst poem ever, I replied, “Wait till you read ‘The Red Wheelbarrow.'” Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Mary, it’s always lovely to hear from. I thoroughly appreciate your encouragement. It’s also wonderful to hear your grandson’s ears are tuned in where poetry is concerned, and he has a grandmother who knows exactly what direction to point him in for poems with rhyme, rhythm, and rapture. Thank you! Reply Joseph S. Salemi February 21, 2024 Just a minor note, Susan — LTC Peterson’s comment on “Mike and Angelo” revived a very old memory. When I was a kid there was a comic strip called “Our Boarding House,” all about the foibles and adventures of the boarders and the couple who ran the place. In one episode, one of the characters was putting on the pretentious airs of being an artist. He was ridiculed by the others, one of whom said this to him: “Think you can sign your name next to Mike Angelo? You could — on a bum check!” My mom had to explain to me that it was a joke about a famous Italian artist named Michelangelo. I thought I had forgotten that, but your poem and Peterson’s comment suddenly brought it back to me. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Thank you very much for this, Joe. Mike remembers “Our Boarding House” too. After reading your comment he was eager to reminisce, and we spent the evening reading some of its delights online. No wonder you have a beautiful relationship with language. This farewell from Major Hoople says is all: Au revoir, Hoople Manor! Under the mystic mantel of midnight, your Master leaves for the calcium glare of Old Broadway! While your humble inmates are under the dreamy spell of Morpheus, I depart on the velvet wings of darkness! Toodle-oo! Wow!! Pure poetry in a single-panel comic strip… now there’s an idea to get children back on track with their education today. I also love the story of your mom’s explanation. It puts me in mind of me at the age of six. I watched “Jason and the Argonauts” all the way through just to get a glimpse of those amazing golden fleas only to be disappointed with the skin of a sheep… the word “fleece” still stings after all these years. Reply Rohini February 21, 2024 Brilliant and sharp! Susan, your words are like a scalpel. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Rohini, what an amazing comment… I am reveling in the wonder of it. Thank you very much indeed! Reply Warren Bonham February 21, 2024 Another master class for the rest of us. Incredibly witty and creative while also making some serious points. Thanks for the enjoyable reads. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Warren, I thoroughly appreciate your encouraging comment. Your words could equally describe your poetry. You certainly have the knack of entertaining while making a serious point. To my mind, poetry is an amazing medium for getting to the heart of the issue with a lot more truth and aesthetic appeal than any skewed news article of today. Thank you for your poetry and your inspiration. Reply Brian A. Yapko February 22, 2024 Susan, this is the best pantoum I have ever seen. Your take on poor J. Alfred Prufrock is brilliant. You encapsulate so much of what Eliot’s character portrait shows and your use of this short form’s repetitions could not be put to better use. Eliot, of course, uses many repetitions in his poem, but yours distills it all into something concentrated and fascinating. And then you double-down on repetitions with an Eliotesque line like “I wonder why I wonder why.” Now your pantoum raised two questions for me: Who is this speaker? To me, she seems to be her own responsive version of Prufrock. But why is she deliberately malapropping Michelangelo? Is the speaker ignorant, or is it the coming & going women? Or is the speaker simply mocking the chatter of these empty heads who think they are much cleverer than they are? I’m sure I’m overthinking this, but there’s something elusive here that I can’t quite pin down. The funny thing is, I don’t think I want to. I’m enjoying it just for its own highly sophisticated quirkiness. “Not Plum Crazy” is a charmer. When’s the last time we referred to the fridge as “the icebox?” Or is that a Britishism? I love the rhymes of “panache” and “ganache”. “Mourning Michelangelo” (what a connection to your pantoum!) is a superb indictment of the modern art scene. You paint a picture of artists and their blue-haired supporters that drips with sarcasm – which is better than dripping with formaldehyde — or wqrse. I don’t actually know if great art of the past like Michelangelo or Rembrandt or Monet is actually now dismissed as passe and boring, but I do know that the descent of much modern art into contempt for beauty along with the use of bodily fluids and cadaver parts is pure vile performance art. “Art” today allows for virtually any perversion (I’m waiting for the display of aborted fetuses somewhere) and is nothing more than the narcissistic performance art of the toxically untalented. I don’t get nearly as angry at the artists themselves as I do at the lunatics, anarchists and useful idiots who support them and think that they’re doing something praiseworthy when all they’re doing is enabling unadultered BS. The grossness and hypocrisy of this world knows no bounds. I’m going to go buy some peaches now. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Brian, your wonderful words on my pantoum have filled my day with joy. I’m particularly taken with this observation: “Eliot, of course, uses many repetitions in his poem, but yours distills it all into something concentrated and fascinating.” As always, you have tapped into exactly what I was trying to do… and what great questions. Firstly, the speaker. The speaker is the contemplative student trying to get her head around the meaning of the poem. I wanted to give a stream-of-consciousness feel to the pantoum. Like the peach is to poor Alfred, the meaning is always just beyond reach… it hovers on the periphery… frustratingly so… which is where the “I wonder why I wonder why” comes in… a sort of life’s-too-short-to-ponder-Prufrock feel. I used the malapropism “Mike and Angelo” to highlight this. To my mind Eliot litters his poem with the familiar… but it’s just out of view. Mike and Angelo sounds like Michelangelo… but… is it him the women are discussing… or not? I hope this makes some sort of sense. Being wholly honest, the poem is based on my frustrations as a student studying this poem… a poem I have learned to appreciate over time. In “Not Plum Crazy” – I just lifted the word “icebox” straight out of W.C. Williams’ poem… to give a hint of the original. I’ve never used the word myself. I used the chickens and the wheelbarrow in the same vein. As for “Mourning Michelangelo” – this is my real nod to this amazing artist… unlike the purposely comedic Mike and Angelo of my pantoum. Although my sonnet is hyperbolic in tone, I tried to tap into the mood of today where art is concerned. I believe there is scant respect for the works of the great artists of yesteryear from the propaganda-driven, destructive mobs of today. I also believe that Modern Art is a money laundering scam that lines the pockets of the rich while denying generations of students access to and appreciation of everything true and beautiful that real art should represent. Brian, as ever, thank you very much indeed for your fine eye and your wise and wonderful words of encouragement. Do enjoy those peaches! Reply Joseph S. Salemi February 23, 2024 Brian — the term “ice-box” was used right through the 1920s and 30s for something that was an actual box. It was a hollow box of thick, hard wood, with a hinged top, and at its bottom was a place for a large chunk of solid ice. People keep perishable things like milk, eggs, cheeses, and meat in it. It was not powered by electricity or anything else. You simply bought a big chunk of ice from the ice-man (5 cents for a smaller piece, 10 cents for a larger one) every few days. The ice-box had short legs, and its wooden bottom was perforated so that water from the melting ice chunk could be caught in a shallow enameled pan underneath rather than spreading on the floor. You had to make sure to empty the pan every so often. The ice-man with his horse-drawn ice-wagon filled with chunks of ice was a daily sight. He only disappeared when electric refrigerators came in during the 1920s. By 1940, almost everybody had the newer appliance. But older persons still called the electric refrigerator “the ice-box” for many years afterwards. Reply Mark Stellinga February 22, 2024 To Susan (& Brian) – just when I get somewhat calmed down from being assaulted by the countless (but productive) tidbits on Newsmax force-feeding us the total BS on CNN, MSNBC, etc., we never watch – “on purpose”, Susan – you toss these 3 ‘aggravater-bombs’ into the works! You’re definitely one of the finest poetical-political-provocateur on the SCP. Bless your heart — I think! Thought you and Brian would get a kick out of this little doo-dad. Loved all 3 – If You Want an Honest Answer – Ask a Child Back in the 1950s, my father took our fam’ly to view the many fine displays in a brand new art museum. He claimed our neighbor’d raved about their paintings by – Picaso…and promised, if we got the chance, we’d make a trip to see ‘em! I was only six years old, but several shows I’d watched…mostly documentaries…had made me well aware That guys like Michelangelo and Rembrandt were the ‘Masters’…and very few who’ve painted since are qualified to share One darn inch of wall space with the likes of men like them! Walls reserved for works so great they’d easily pass for real. But on that day – that horrid day – we learned a brand new word when we found ourselves assaulted by the sickening term — “surreal”! Strolling past a Rockwell, then a pair of fine da Vincis, both of us were feeling thrilled with what we’d come to do, When — turning in to a cul-de-sac — the very first Picaso either of us had ever seen came drifting into view! “So that’s the kind of painting that our neighbor thinks is GOOD?” I whispered to my father, as he stood there, in a trance! His obvious look of disbelief depicted his disdain…and as for me…I swear to God — I pret’ near filled my pants! We hadn’t driven 90 miles to check out wasted canvas displaying shit created by some old, demented drunk! Works that — if submitted to their teachers for a grade — the wanna-bes who’d rendered them, without a doubt, would flunk! Thankfully they’d only hung – ‘surreals’ – in one small section. All the other rooms were clad with paintings we adored. A few – “on loan” – from art museums found in larger towns – the sort that…when I’m all grown up…I hope I can afford… Hung behind the counter where the curator sat. And as we reached the door to leave, he glanced at me and smiled, So – looking up – I snarled at him…“Picasos make me puke!” Which proves, of course…if you want an honest answer — ask a child! Reply Brian A. Yapko February 22, 2024 Mark, this is brilliant! Picasso — and a great many others including, but not limited to, Banksy, Warhol and Basquiat — also make me puke. In fact, I’ve got a little list… Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 As far as I’m concerned, Banksy is a criminal. How many other Brits could paint on other people’s property without fear of arrest? This act used to recognized as vandalism… now it’s free expression… but only for Banksy. All artists are free, but some artists are freer than others. Mark Stellinga February 23, 2024 Brian, I’m guessing you’ll appreciate this littler zinger as well … me and my wife, Connie, are BIG Terry Redlin fans. Gotta look ‘real’. This piece was penned after my book. BTW – if you’d like a FREE copy of my 2012, 5lb. beast of strictly ‘populist verse’, which ABB and Mike & Susan say they were very delighted with, just shoot me an address and we’ll mail you one – no charge. Though Sue’s a favorite, we always really enjoy your postings. You can email me at mark@billiard-antiques, and – FYI – I’m all over Google & ebay with older (embarrassing) videos and audios – 🙂 I Couldn’t Care Less Who Painted Them…They Suck! Strolling through some galleries up in Hollywood last week, shopping for some artwork for the walls of my new pad, As I toured the shops I found – despite their countless choices – virtually every painting ran from ‘yuck’ to really bad! Carefully studying several works, trying to ascertain what on earth could justify the way that each was priced, I began comparing them – based upon their themes – to those depicting pastoral scenes and ones of Jesus Christ – Thinking I could form a theory…figure out the reason, some – while tough to look at – were a hundred thousand bucks, And some that looked like brain-dead drunks had simply — framed their palettes – soared to several million, and, I’m telling you…it sucks! Galleries that pull this crap are falsely setting values…duping trusting clientele by utilizing claims That paintings by Picasso and van Gogh are ‘wise investments’ when all you’re really buying are their – ‘worth-inflated’ names! And they’ll continue peddling what their patrons misconstrue — works from ‘long-dead wanna-be-s’ who simply couldn’t produce What it is we connoisseurs of ‘realism’ seek — while *I’d* put what they’re offering to a far-more-worthy use! Given I perceive them as but — wasted scraps of canvas — sold by frauds who disregard their honest critics shocks — Once I’d pulled them from their frames, without a second thought – if my Persian didn’t object — I’d line her litter box! Enjoy your weekend — Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Yes, thank you for this, Mark… it sums up today’s art scene in a poetic nutshell! Thank you too for your kind words of encouragement. Reply Louis Groarke February 22, 2024 So much to say; I had to look up “pantoum.” Always learning from my betters. I share your concerns about conceptual art. “I wonder why I wonder why….” Pondering Prufrock seems to me to catch some of the angst of that poem. Michelangelo once said (supposedly) that connoisseurs (those who truly appreciate art) are as rare as great artists… TE’s bed went for 4 million at Christies, I think, What does that tell us about the world? Thanks for the thoughtful poetry. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 24, 2024 Louis, thank you very much for your comment. I’m glad you liked the pantoum… I thought it the perfect form to capture the feel of Eliot’s fine poem, and I’m thrilled I managed it. I love Michelangelo’s supposed take on connoisseurs of art… how very true, and even truer in these warped times. The “value” of that cringeworthy bed says everything we need to know about art “experts”. Reply James Sale February 23, 2024 Inspired writing and execution, Susan: I had to laugh; I really had to! Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 24, 2024 James, laughter was my main intention, and I am thrilled you benefited from my endeavours to put a smile on your face with my poems… laughter is after all the best medicine… and we certainly need a huge dose of it these days! Reply Margaret Coats February 23, 2024 Susan, I see that two of these poems were published separately, but as a group, they are no longer fun little satirical pieces, but a (somewhat) serious critique of art criticism. The Prufrock poem seems to me neither an imitation of Eliot nor a satire on him. It is a wise choice on your part to use some Eliot phrases as allusions, not only because he was indeed a great poet, but because so many, many poets have created failures in their attempts to imitate him. I will except Cynthia Erlandson, who really does have some successful Eliot imitations, though I recall none published here. What you’ve done in this first poem is surreal. The pantoum is ideal for this kind of effect, because it satisfies the criterion of unity for a poem in the way only the canvas does for most surrealistic paintings. Despite what you have said about the speaker, I don’t observe any real meditation or narrative here. The theme I perceive comes from the “I wonder why” line, which draws attention to itself by repeating the half-line. This can serve as a bit of sense in surreal surroundings–enough to make the poem a commonsense comment on both literature and art that aim for the disorienting effect you do your best to reproduce. The second poem satirizing two of William Carlos Williams’s best known “works” is effective in the way Joseph Salemi describes. With your interest in funeral poetry, you may like (or dislike) to know I have heard the “plum and ice-box” poem quite seriously read by a widow at the funeral of a husband. To me as wife of an art historian, with very much museum experience, your third poem in the group gives just the right feeling of a poet indeed familiar with art, and thus qualified to lambaste grotesque absurdities too often exhibited. Art historians and even museum personnel know that’s what they are, but accede to modernist taste for shock, which is increasingly difficult to satisfy. You take a risk with your final word, “Wow,” because intelligent criticism is already labeling what you decry as the search for the wow-factor in art or literature or elsewhere. We all want to create something that will get a lot of clicks, comments, and citations, but sensationalism is far easier to achieve than authentic art. Still, I’ll take the poem as desiring the authenticity of art on many levels that can be found in the Sistine Chapel. The tourist “Wow” just shows it would be good to understand what we appreciate in deeper ways. It too can redound to your credit. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 24, 2024 Margaret, I appreciate the time you have taken to analyze my poetry. Fun was my foremost intention with these, whether in a series or not. I’m glad to see from the comments above, many had fun reading them. I chose the title “Pondering Prufrock” because that is exactly what the pantoum does. The narrator ponders Prufrock. You say you “don’t observe any real meditation or narrative here” – if by “real” you mean substantial… you’re right. If I wanted to do that, I’d have written an essay. You’re also correct when you say, the pantoum is neither an imitation of Eliot nor a satire on him – it isn’t. Brian gets to the heart of the pantoum with his comment above, which is well worth a read. As for it being a wise choice not to imitate Eliot “because so many, many poets have created failures in their attempt to imitate him” – I didn’t make a conscious choice not to. The pantoum came in a flash of inspiration. I intended the poem to say more about those studying Prufrock than the author of his fine, but challenging, poem. It’s based on my own personal experience. Who knows what may have happened if I had chosen to imitate Eliot… I’m glad you’ve set me straight on that score. LOL “Not Plum Crazy” is pure fun… who wouldn’t pass up those plums for a slice of chocolate heaven? I love the idea of the WCW’s plums poem being read at a funeral. In the context it was read, I am sure it was a big hit… just as “Bat out of Hell” sung by Meatloaf at a funeral I attended was… beautiful, in fact. Context speaks volumes. I find your comment on “Mourning Michelangelo” very sad indeed. You say: To me as wife of an art historian, with very much museum experience, your third poem in the group gives just the right feeling of a poet indeed familiar with art, and thus qualified to lambaste grotesque absurdities too often exhibited. It begs the question, why does one have to be the “wife of an art historian” or “familiar with art” to know that a dirty unmade bed (with soiled sanitary products, condoms, filthy knickers, and other unappealing detritus strewn around it) or a dead creature floating in formaldehyde, is not aesthetically or indeed morally appealing? I am the wife of a plumber who way before studying literature knew that the “art” I describe in my poem wasn’t art but something far more sinister. My criticism is about the destruction of our culture – a discussion that should be open to everyone regardless of whether or not one is familiar with art and thereby “qualified” to comment. That is what is wrong with society today… too many people’s voices aren’t taken seriously or are silenced because they’re not qualified experts. The “Wow!” word in the poem is simply “Wow!” – it has nothing to do with the points you make and more to do with the fact that even a potential poet cannot find words heavenly enough to describe a REAL work of art. Reply Jeff Eardley February 24, 2024 Susan, as razor-sharp as ever. I also had to look up “pantoum” as well as that bonkers Prufrock poem, which I have never read before. I came back to yours with a smile as I moved onto the plum pudding for desert. Your take on modern art hits a nerve. Give me the amazing pre-Raphaelites any day. Great writing from you today, we expect no less. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 25, 2024 Jeff, it’s always good to hear from you… plum pudding for dessert has gotten my attention… I’m now thinking those plums should have been an ingredient in the chocolate topped torte… now there’s an idea for deliciousness. Jeff, thank you! Reply Adam Wasem February 24, 2024 A salute to you, Susan, for having the guts to take on “Prufrock” like that. Though I wonder if any substantial reading public even takes Prufrock’s brooding repetitions about propriety–along with its underlying suspicions of said propriety’s hollowness–seriously anymore. I suspect even Eliot’s mild experimentations are far too formal for poetry’s current presiding panjandrums. The Wm. Carlos Williams one was certainly overdue for a good lampooning, though, especially considering the solemn gravity with which its vapidity was always presented to us in high-school and undergraduate anthologies. And done so in the sweetest way possible–no pun intended–by turning its ridiculous terse solemnity inside out with a succulent paean. “Mourning Michelangelo” seems the most currently Susanesque in its wordplay, I have to say. And in its contemporary relevance. The current art–and literary, musical, etc.,–scenes do seem more and more like signposts of decadence, of a Western World Order in terminal decay, much like the orgiastic excesses of late Imperial Rome. Future historians will use the pickled grotesqueries and rotting bananas taped to gallery walls to chart the last gasps of the European-American Imperium, much as we do with the excesses of Nero and Heliogabulus. I think you’ll find this amusing: The Odysseus probe just sent to the moon–first American moon landing since 1972, by the way–had a large Jeff Koons piece attached to one side–one of his signature plexiglass cases filled with steel balls commemorating contemporary luminaries or something like that–and apparently the unbalancing weight of this case is what caused the probe to tip over on its side when landing. Not content with just undermining earthly culture, now contemporary artists can’t help but sabotage space exploration as well. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 25, 2024 Adam, what a tour de force of a comment full of sumptuous language – gems I feel like stealing for a new poem: “presiding panjandrums”, “gravity/vapidity” orgiastic excesses”, and my favorite of all “pickled grotesqueries”… they’re as delicious as a chocolate topped torte, while making some excellent points. You pick up on the message of “Mourning Michelangelo” perfectly. This poem points to the end of the world as we know it. I believe these pickled grotesqueries and unmade beds are a money-laundering power grab by those who are very close to destroying everything and everyone getting in the way of their heinous, self-serving, vision. I love the Odysseus probe story. God has an amazing sense of humor! Adam, thank you very much indeed. Reply Joseph S. Salemi February 24, 2024 You have to wonder what kind of a flaming asshole in NASA decided that a Jeff Koons pseudo-sculpture had to be attached to a space probe. Reply Paul A. Freeman February 25, 2024 Some of today’s modern art and free verse does have me scratching my head. That said, much of the best free verse, I find, is lyrical prose, and as a writer of prose myself, I can appreciate this rather, especially with its extended and imaginative metaphors, than dismiss it. Maybe give Ted Hughes’s ‘Wind’ or ‘Harvest Moon’ a read. Someone mentioned surrealism. What was Hieronymus Bosch, but a surrealist? In fact, some surrealists pointed to him as their inspiration. Or does Bosch get a pass because he painted during the Renaissance? Van Gogh’s hardly a traditionalist, either? Or is post-impressionism still close enough to the traditional Golden Age to be appreciated. Just so there’s no doubt where I stand, here’s a limerick I wrote a few years back in response to yet another weird Turner Prize choice: An artist who came from Cape Verde, Laid an intricate, pythoning turd; In appreciation Of this great creation, A Turner Prize judge placed it third. Speaking of Turner, he experimented with light rather than form – again a great departure from realism. Yet I find his work magnificent. In more modern times, I remember when LS Lowry passed away and I got to see his ‘Matchstalk Men and Matchstalk Cats and Dogs’, or Beryl Cook’s cheeky, curvy ladies. Wonderful stuff. Yes, there’s a proliferation of rubbish around, but maybe not all modern art and free verse should be dismissed out of hand. I’ve just read ‘The Red Wheelbarrow’ for the first time. It’s succinct, with strong imagery, but not my cuppa. As for Damien Hirst – I don’t get it. Anyhow, measured responses are welcome – and unmeasured Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 25, 2024 Thank you for your input, Paul. I think many are able to tell the difference between talent and torture where art is concerned. I have nothing against free verse. I have read many excellent free verse poems. “Plum Crazy” was originally a free verse poem. My pantoum wouldn’t be as intriguing without the rich imagery of Eliot – drawn upon when I wrote it. I believe the reason many are opposed to modern art in general is the fact that it has been hijacked for political purposes. I believe that in art, as in every walk of life, there is a spoken and an unspoken standard. These days the spoken standard has been twisted out of all recognition. If one doesn’t “get it” as you state in your closing paragraph, those who do “get it” (those who have written the rules surrounding it, those who are making fat bucks because of it, and those who are duped by these charlatans’ bogus claims) will sneer at your ignorance and ostracize you from the exclusive get-it set. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 25, 2024 … the unspoken standard is simply that… people are afraid to call out this idiocy because of the snobbery and cancel-culture that pervades the art world today. And let’s not forget, rhyme, rhythm, and rapture are considered heresy in today’s brave new world. Joseph S. Salemi February 26, 2024 Susan, you are quite correct to point out that there is an “unspoken standard” in artistic endeavor today — a standard that determines who shall be rewarded with grants, or published, or given gallery space, or receive commentary and approbation in mainstream media or academic journals. That standard is political, and it is enforced quietly but effectively. And in contradiction to what Paul says above, it has little to do with stylistic choices (whether traditional or modernist or free verse or whatever). Artists are now judged by their level of commitment to a current political agenda set by the left, which is now in almost total control of the apparatus of education and publishing. In fact, certain figures who were once celebrated as groundbreaking modernists or revolutionaries in technique have now been retroactively cancelled because of revelations that they held opinions that are currently considered “unacceptable.” All of a sudden their groundbreaking revolutionary work doesn’t count anymore. Examples: the work of Gertrude Stein now gets the silent treatment, because it turns out that she supported the Nationalist rebellion of Francisco Franco in the Spanish Civil War. The poet E.E. Cummings isn’t discussed much these days, because it turns out, if you read some of his private letters and prose comments, that he had nothing but contempt for left-liberalism. Celine was a profoundly modernistic novelist, but his work is mostly banned in France today because he hated Communists and other left-wing garbage. William Faulkner, a towering figure in modern American literature, is dismissed and hated today because he was a very proud white Southerner who stood up for his region and his people when everyone else was attacking and cursing them. Even Hemingway, who basically re-vamped American novelistic prose style, won’t be taught in some places because a coterie of feminist bitches dislike his fierce masculinity In other words, it really doesn’t matter what style you choose to work in. As long as you toe the line about proper political attitudes and stances, your work will get some attention and perhaps be rewarded. If you don’t spout the accepted left-liberal pieties, there will be an absolute silence concerning you. David Whippman February 27, 2024 Susan, “Mourning Michelangelo” could be an anthem for what most folk think about modern art. Well, that statement needs qualification. There are tons of less well known artists producing good, more traditional work: I know this partly through my own association with a local painting group. But like you, when it comes to Damien Hirst (hope I spelled his name right) I can’t understand what all the fuss is about. Tracey Emin? I’m not a fan of her work, but from what I know, she has stood out from the herd, expressing support for the Tories and for Israel. So kudos to her for that. I’m rambling! Good poems from you, as always. Reply Daniel Kemper February 28, 2024 Susan! Wow, what fun!! Much has been said, let me try to have something to say. The Prufrock sendup was a roar, and with English roots, the exact level of implication at which to bring in ambivalence towards eating the peach and the women’s departure was inimitable and the funniest part of the pantoum (!) to me. As you know, I’m always a bit uncomfortable with metrical substitution, but I’m so delighted to see a sonnet in anapestic meter! And I love that meter carries its own refutation of WCW famous plum piece. And of course, you know from earlier work that I’d be a sucker for a plum poem. BTW, on “Plum Crazy.” That was a actually the name of the shade of purple a good friend in college painted his 1948 (!) Harley Davidson. Your poem on Michelangelo (ironically connected with Prufrock) made me remember “Piss Christ” and yet … don’t critique Kinsey or a pogrom will start and you’ll get blamed for it. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Joseph S. Salemi February 21, 2024 These are three wonderfully playful spoofs on some of the silliness in modernism. The Prufrock pantoum is especially delightful. “Not Plum Crazy” is a deft evisceration of those two iconic W.C. Williams poems on plums, chickens, and wheelbarrows. When the speaker argues that who would want plums when you can have an elaborate piece of pastry, she is making an analogous comment on a sane reader’s preference for well-crafted formal verse, rather than for the skimpy, unsatisfying fare offered by most modernists. I had never heard of this Damien Hirst character, but there is another artist (a German – what else?) who creates works of art out of human corpses, which he preserves with embalming fluids and dessication and then twists into grotesque shapes, some of them disgustingly sexual. Such is “art” today. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Thank you very much for your generous and informative comment, Joe. I’m thrilled you enjoyed the pantoum… what better form to navigate the repetitive complexities of a poem that still intrigues me to this day. You are spot on with the plums. As for Damien Hirst, I thought he was as bad as it got on the scale of the grotesque. The German “artist” you mention sounds so depraved, I can’t bring myself to look. When the art world sinks this low, it’s a long and arduous climb back to truth and beauty, and for those who have witnessed art at its finest, it’s heartbreaking. Reply
jd February 21, 2024 Three excellent poems as usual. You are so prolific, Susan, and always in a beautifully crafted way. And also, as usual, I love reading Mr. Salemi’s “takes”. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 jd, it’s always lovely to hear from you, and thank you very much indeed for your kind and appreciative words. We are so fortunate on this site to have an area to discuss our poems and lovers of poetry who enlighten us all with their enriching takes. Reply
Roy Eugene Peterson February 21, 2024 Can any collective title be more compelling to read than “Plums, Peaches, and the Sistine Chapel?” “Talk of Mike and Angelo” is an inspired phrase for those unversed in antiquities. That chocolate torte did not stand a chance of surviving until time for dessert! I am thankful I never heard of Hirst or saw a picture of his “offal” so-called sculptures. Dr. Salemi’s comments always are educational and contribute to any of our poems fascinating facts and perspective. Sometimes I believe Susan is Artemis, for her words and phrases always hit their target. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Roy, what a wonderful comment. I am over the moon my words hit the spot on the plums front… how could one choose a plum over that decadent dessert?! It was my duty as a poet to hurl those plums into the past where they belong… step aside Mr. Williams, the chocolate topped torte is the new plum. And Roy, please do stay away from those awful offal sculptures… one’s day is most certainly not enhanced by viewing such abominations. Thank you very much for your continued encouragement and your appreciation – it means a lot. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson February 21, 2024 Your takeoff on Prufrock had me laughing all the way through! “Mike and Angelo,” indeed! Every line is a delight! I hope that the poetry world will come to depend much more on your compositions than on Williams’ red wheelbarrow, or the cash cow you reference in “Mourning Michelangelo”. Thanks for the fun! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Cynthia, it pleases me no end to think that my pantoum had you laughing… fun is what I was aiming for, so you have made my day. Thank you! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Norma, thank you very much indeed. Coming from a poet who always writes enjoyable poetry, your words mean a lot. Reply
Mary Gardner February 21, 2024 Susan, these are superb. Your flawless poems always keep the reader entranced to the end. When my grandson said “Fog” was the worst poem ever, I replied, “Wait till you read ‘The Red Wheelbarrow.'” Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Mary, it’s always lovely to hear from. I thoroughly appreciate your encouragement. It’s also wonderful to hear your grandson’s ears are tuned in where poetry is concerned, and he has a grandmother who knows exactly what direction to point him in for poems with rhyme, rhythm, and rapture. Thank you! Reply
Joseph S. Salemi February 21, 2024 Just a minor note, Susan — LTC Peterson’s comment on “Mike and Angelo” revived a very old memory. When I was a kid there was a comic strip called “Our Boarding House,” all about the foibles and adventures of the boarders and the couple who ran the place. In one episode, one of the characters was putting on the pretentious airs of being an artist. He was ridiculed by the others, one of whom said this to him: “Think you can sign your name next to Mike Angelo? You could — on a bum check!” My mom had to explain to me that it was a joke about a famous Italian artist named Michelangelo. I thought I had forgotten that, but your poem and Peterson’s comment suddenly brought it back to me. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Thank you very much for this, Joe. Mike remembers “Our Boarding House” too. After reading your comment he was eager to reminisce, and we spent the evening reading some of its delights online. No wonder you have a beautiful relationship with language. This farewell from Major Hoople says is all: Au revoir, Hoople Manor! Under the mystic mantel of midnight, your Master leaves for the calcium glare of Old Broadway! While your humble inmates are under the dreamy spell of Morpheus, I depart on the velvet wings of darkness! Toodle-oo! Wow!! Pure poetry in a single-panel comic strip… now there’s an idea to get children back on track with their education today. I also love the story of your mom’s explanation. It puts me in mind of me at the age of six. I watched “Jason and the Argonauts” all the way through just to get a glimpse of those amazing golden fleas only to be disappointed with the skin of a sheep… the word “fleece” still stings after all these years. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Rohini, what an amazing comment… I am reveling in the wonder of it. Thank you very much indeed! Reply
Warren Bonham February 21, 2024 Another master class for the rest of us. Incredibly witty and creative while also making some serious points. Thanks for the enjoyable reads. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Warren, I thoroughly appreciate your encouraging comment. Your words could equally describe your poetry. You certainly have the knack of entertaining while making a serious point. To my mind, poetry is an amazing medium for getting to the heart of the issue with a lot more truth and aesthetic appeal than any skewed news article of today. Thank you for your poetry and your inspiration. Reply
Brian A. Yapko February 22, 2024 Susan, this is the best pantoum I have ever seen. Your take on poor J. Alfred Prufrock is brilliant. You encapsulate so much of what Eliot’s character portrait shows and your use of this short form’s repetitions could not be put to better use. Eliot, of course, uses many repetitions in his poem, but yours distills it all into something concentrated and fascinating. And then you double-down on repetitions with an Eliotesque line like “I wonder why I wonder why.” Now your pantoum raised two questions for me: Who is this speaker? To me, she seems to be her own responsive version of Prufrock. But why is she deliberately malapropping Michelangelo? Is the speaker ignorant, or is it the coming & going women? Or is the speaker simply mocking the chatter of these empty heads who think they are much cleverer than they are? I’m sure I’m overthinking this, but there’s something elusive here that I can’t quite pin down. The funny thing is, I don’t think I want to. I’m enjoying it just for its own highly sophisticated quirkiness. “Not Plum Crazy” is a charmer. When’s the last time we referred to the fridge as “the icebox?” Or is that a Britishism? I love the rhymes of “panache” and “ganache”. “Mourning Michelangelo” (what a connection to your pantoum!) is a superb indictment of the modern art scene. You paint a picture of artists and their blue-haired supporters that drips with sarcasm – which is better than dripping with formaldehyde — or wqrse. I don’t actually know if great art of the past like Michelangelo or Rembrandt or Monet is actually now dismissed as passe and boring, but I do know that the descent of much modern art into contempt for beauty along with the use of bodily fluids and cadaver parts is pure vile performance art. “Art” today allows for virtually any perversion (I’m waiting for the display of aborted fetuses somewhere) and is nothing more than the narcissistic performance art of the toxically untalented. I don’t get nearly as angry at the artists themselves as I do at the lunatics, anarchists and useful idiots who support them and think that they’re doing something praiseworthy when all they’re doing is enabling unadultered BS. The grossness and hypocrisy of this world knows no bounds. I’m going to go buy some peaches now. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Brian, your wonderful words on my pantoum have filled my day with joy. I’m particularly taken with this observation: “Eliot, of course, uses many repetitions in his poem, but yours distills it all into something concentrated and fascinating.” As always, you have tapped into exactly what I was trying to do… and what great questions. Firstly, the speaker. The speaker is the contemplative student trying to get her head around the meaning of the poem. I wanted to give a stream-of-consciousness feel to the pantoum. Like the peach is to poor Alfred, the meaning is always just beyond reach… it hovers on the periphery… frustratingly so… which is where the “I wonder why I wonder why” comes in… a sort of life’s-too-short-to-ponder-Prufrock feel. I used the malapropism “Mike and Angelo” to highlight this. To my mind Eliot litters his poem with the familiar… but it’s just out of view. Mike and Angelo sounds like Michelangelo… but… is it him the women are discussing… or not? I hope this makes some sort of sense. Being wholly honest, the poem is based on my frustrations as a student studying this poem… a poem I have learned to appreciate over time. In “Not Plum Crazy” – I just lifted the word “icebox” straight out of W.C. Williams’ poem… to give a hint of the original. I’ve never used the word myself. I used the chickens and the wheelbarrow in the same vein. As for “Mourning Michelangelo” – this is my real nod to this amazing artist… unlike the purposely comedic Mike and Angelo of my pantoum. Although my sonnet is hyperbolic in tone, I tried to tap into the mood of today where art is concerned. I believe there is scant respect for the works of the great artists of yesteryear from the propaganda-driven, destructive mobs of today. I also believe that Modern Art is a money laundering scam that lines the pockets of the rich while denying generations of students access to and appreciation of everything true and beautiful that real art should represent. Brian, as ever, thank you very much indeed for your fine eye and your wise and wonderful words of encouragement. Do enjoy those peaches! Reply
Joseph S. Salemi February 23, 2024 Brian — the term “ice-box” was used right through the 1920s and 30s for something that was an actual box. It was a hollow box of thick, hard wood, with a hinged top, and at its bottom was a place for a large chunk of solid ice. People keep perishable things like milk, eggs, cheeses, and meat in it. It was not powered by electricity or anything else. You simply bought a big chunk of ice from the ice-man (5 cents for a smaller piece, 10 cents for a larger one) every few days. The ice-box had short legs, and its wooden bottom was perforated so that water from the melting ice chunk could be caught in a shallow enameled pan underneath rather than spreading on the floor. You had to make sure to empty the pan every so often. The ice-man with his horse-drawn ice-wagon filled with chunks of ice was a daily sight. He only disappeared when electric refrigerators came in during the 1920s. By 1940, almost everybody had the newer appliance. But older persons still called the electric refrigerator “the ice-box” for many years afterwards. Reply
Mark Stellinga February 22, 2024 To Susan (& Brian) – just when I get somewhat calmed down from being assaulted by the countless (but productive) tidbits on Newsmax force-feeding us the total BS on CNN, MSNBC, etc., we never watch – “on purpose”, Susan – you toss these 3 ‘aggravater-bombs’ into the works! You’re definitely one of the finest poetical-political-provocateur on the SCP. Bless your heart — I think! Thought you and Brian would get a kick out of this little doo-dad. Loved all 3 – If You Want an Honest Answer – Ask a Child Back in the 1950s, my father took our fam’ly to view the many fine displays in a brand new art museum. He claimed our neighbor’d raved about their paintings by – Picaso…and promised, if we got the chance, we’d make a trip to see ‘em! I was only six years old, but several shows I’d watched…mostly documentaries…had made me well aware That guys like Michelangelo and Rembrandt were the ‘Masters’…and very few who’ve painted since are qualified to share One darn inch of wall space with the likes of men like them! Walls reserved for works so great they’d easily pass for real. But on that day – that horrid day – we learned a brand new word when we found ourselves assaulted by the sickening term — “surreal”! Strolling past a Rockwell, then a pair of fine da Vincis, both of us were feeling thrilled with what we’d come to do, When — turning in to a cul-de-sac — the very first Picaso either of us had ever seen came drifting into view! “So that’s the kind of painting that our neighbor thinks is GOOD?” I whispered to my father, as he stood there, in a trance! His obvious look of disbelief depicted his disdain…and as for me…I swear to God — I pret’ near filled my pants! We hadn’t driven 90 miles to check out wasted canvas displaying shit created by some old, demented drunk! Works that — if submitted to their teachers for a grade — the wanna-bes who’d rendered them, without a doubt, would flunk! Thankfully they’d only hung – ‘surreals’ – in one small section. All the other rooms were clad with paintings we adored. A few – “on loan” – from art museums found in larger towns – the sort that…when I’m all grown up…I hope I can afford… Hung behind the counter where the curator sat. And as we reached the door to leave, he glanced at me and smiled, So – looking up – I snarled at him…“Picasos make me puke!” Which proves, of course…if you want an honest answer — ask a child! Reply
Brian A. Yapko February 22, 2024 Mark, this is brilliant! Picasso — and a great many others including, but not limited to, Banksy, Warhol and Basquiat — also make me puke. In fact, I’ve got a little list… Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 As far as I’m concerned, Banksy is a criminal. How many other Brits could paint on other people’s property without fear of arrest? This act used to recognized as vandalism… now it’s free expression… but only for Banksy. All artists are free, but some artists are freer than others.
Mark Stellinga February 23, 2024 Brian, I’m guessing you’ll appreciate this littler zinger as well … me and my wife, Connie, are BIG Terry Redlin fans. Gotta look ‘real’. This piece was penned after my book. BTW – if you’d like a FREE copy of my 2012, 5lb. beast of strictly ‘populist verse’, which ABB and Mike & Susan say they were very delighted with, just shoot me an address and we’ll mail you one – no charge. Though Sue’s a favorite, we always really enjoy your postings. You can email me at mark@billiard-antiques, and – FYI – I’m all over Google & ebay with older (embarrassing) videos and audios – 🙂 I Couldn’t Care Less Who Painted Them…They Suck! Strolling through some galleries up in Hollywood last week, shopping for some artwork for the walls of my new pad, As I toured the shops I found – despite their countless choices – virtually every painting ran from ‘yuck’ to really bad! Carefully studying several works, trying to ascertain what on earth could justify the way that each was priced, I began comparing them – based upon their themes – to those depicting pastoral scenes and ones of Jesus Christ – Thinking I could form a theory…figure out the reason, some – while tough to look at – were a hundred thousand bucks, And some that looked like brain-dead drunks had simply — framed their palettes – soared to several million, and, I’m telling you…it sucks! Galleries that pull this crap are falsely setting values…duping trusting clientele by utilizing claims That paintings by Picasso and van Gogh are ‘wise investments’ when all you’re really buying are their – ‘worth-inflated’ names! And they’ll continue peddling what their patrons misconstrue — works from ‘long-dead wanna-be-s’ who simply couldn’t produce What it is we connoisseurs of ‘realism’ seek — while *I’d* put what they’re offering to a far-more-worthy use! Given I perceive them as but — wasted scraps of canvas — sold by frauds who disregard their honest critics shocks — Once I’d pulled them from their frames, without a second thought – if my Persian didn’t object — I’d line her litter box! Enjoy your weekend —
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 22, 2024 Yes, thank you for this, Mark… it sums up today’s art scene in a poetic nutshell! Thank you too for your kind words of encouragement. Reply
Louis Groarke February 22, 2024 So much to say; I had to look up “pantoum.” Always learning from my betters. I share your concerns about conceptual art. “I wonder why I wonder why….” Pondering Prufrock seems to me to catch some of the angst of that poem. Michelangelo once said (supposedly) that connoisseurs (those who truly appreciate art) are as rare as great artists… TE’s bed went for 4 million at Christies, I think, What does that tell us about the world? Thanks for the thoughtful poetry. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 24, 2024 Louis, thank you very much for your comment. I’m glad you liked the pantoum… I thought it the perfect form to capture the feel of Eliot’s fine poem, and I’m thrilled I managed it. I love Michelangelo’s supposed take on connoisseurs of art… how very true, and even truer in these warped times. The “value” of that cringeworthy bed says everything we need to know about art “experts”. Reply
James Sale February 23, 2024 Inspired writing and execution, Susan: I had to laugh; I really had to! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 24, 2024 James, laughter was my main intention, and I am thrilled you benefited from my endeavours to put a smile on your face with my poems… laughter is after all the best medicine… and we certainly need a huge dose of it these days! Reply
Margaret Coats February 23, 2024 Susan, I see that two of these poems were published separately, but as a group, they are no longer fun little satirical pieces, but a (somewhat) serious critique of art criticism. The Prufrock poem seems to me neither an imitation of Eliot nor a satire on him. It is a wise choice on your part to use some Eliot phrases as allusions, not only because he was indeed a great poet, but because so many, many poets have created failures in their attempts to imitate him. I will except Cynthia Erlandson, who really does have some successful Eliot imitations, though I recall none published here. What you’ve done in this first poem is surreal. The pantoum is ideal for this kind of effect, because it satisfies the criterion of unity for a poem in the way only the canvas does for most surrealistic paintings. Despite what you have said about the speaker, I don’t observe any real meditation or narrative here. The theme I perceive comes from the “I wonder why” line, which draws attention to itself by repeating the half-line. This can serve as a bit of sense in surreal surroundings–enough to make the poem a commonsense comment on both literature and art that aim for the disorienting effect you do your best to reproduce. The second poem satirizing two of William Carlos Williams’s best known “works” is effective in the way Joseph Salemi describes. With your interest in funeral poetry, you may like (or dislike) to know I have heard the “plum and ice-box” poem quite seriously read by a widow at the funeral of a husband. To me as wife of an art historian, with very much museum experience, your third poem in the group gives just the right feeling of a poet indeed familiar with art, and thus qualified to lambaste grotesque absurdities too often exhibited. Art historians and even museum personnel know that’s what they are, but accede to modernist taste for shock, which is increasingly difficult to satisfy. You take a risk with your final word, “Wow,” because intelligent criticism is already labeling what you decry as the search for the wow-factor in art or literature or elsewhere. We all want to create something that will get a lot of clicks, comments, and citations, but sensationalism is far easier to achieve than authentic art. Still, I’ll take the poem as desiring the authenticity of art on many levels that can be found in the Sistine Chapel. The tourist “Wow” just shows it would be good to understand what we appreciate in deeper ways. It too can redound to your credit. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 24, 2024 Margaret, I appreciate the time you have taken to analyze my poetry. Fun was my foremost intention with these, whether in a series or not. I’m glad to see from the comments above, many had fun reading them. I chose the title “Pondering Prufrock” because that is exactly what the pantoum does. The narrator ponders Prufrock. You say you “don’t observe any real meditation or narrative here” – if by “real” you mean substantial… you’re right. If I wanted to do that, I’d have written an essay. You’re also correct when you say, the pantoum is neither an imitation of Eliot nor a satire on him – it isn’t. Brian gets to the heart of the pantoum with his comment above, which is well worth a read. As for it being a wise choice not to imitate Eliot “because so many, many poets have created failures in their attempt to imitate him” – I didn’t make a conscious choice not to. The pantoum came in a flash of inspiration. I intended the poem to say more about those studying Prufrock than the author of his fine, but challenging, poem. It’s based on my own personal experience. Who knows what may have happened if I had chosen to imitate Eliot… I’m glad you’ve set me straight on that score. LOL “Not Plum Crazy” is pure fun… who wouldn’t pass up those plums for a slice of chocolate heaven? I love the idea of the WCW’s plums poem being read at a funeral. In the context it was read, I am sure it was a big hit… just as “Bat out of Hell” sung by Meatloaf at a funeral I attended was… beautiful, in fact. Context speaks volumes. I find your comment on “Mourning Michelangelo” very sad indeed. You say: To me as wife of an art historian, with very much museum experience, your third poem in the group gives just the right feeling of a poet indeed familiar with art, and thus qualified to lambaste grotesque absurdities too often exhibited. It begs the question, why does one have to be the “wife of an art historian” or “familiar with art” to know that a dirty unmade bed (with soiled sanitary products, condoms, filthy knickers, and other unappealing detritus strewn around it) or a dead creature floating in formaldehyde, is not aesthetically or indeed morally appealing? I am the wife of a plumber who way before studying literature knew that the “art” I describe in my poem wasn’t art but something far more sinister. My criticism is about the destruction of our culture – a discussion that should be open to everyone regardless of whether or not one is familiar with art and thereby “qualified” to comment. That is what is wrong with society today… too many people’s voices aren’t taken seriously or are silenced because they’re not qualified experts. The “Wow!” word in the poem is simply “Wow!” – it has nothing to do with the points you make and more to do with the fact that even a potential poet cannot find words heavenly enough to describe a REAL work of art. Reply
Jeff Eardley February 24, 2024 Susan, as razor-sharp as ever. I also had to look up “pantoum” as well as that bonkers Prufrock poem, which I have never read before. I came back to yours with a smile as I moved onto the plum pudding for desert. Your take on modern art hits a nerve. Give me the amazing pre-Raphaelites any day. Great writing from you today, we expect no less. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 25, 2024 Jeff, it’s always good to hear from you… plum pudding for dessert has gotten my attention… I’m now thinking those plums should have been an ingredient in the chocolate topped torte… now there’s an idea for deliciousness. Jeff, thank you! Reply
Adam Wasem February 24, 2024 A salute to you, Susan, for having the guts to take on “Prufrock” like that. Though I wonder if any substantial reading public even takes Prufrock’s brooding repetitions about propriety–along with its underlying suspicions of said propriety’s hollowness–seriously anymore. I suspect even Eliot’s mild experimentations are far too formal for poetry’s current presiding panjandrums. The Wm. Carlos Williams one was certainly overdue for a good lampooning, though, especially considering the solemn gravity with which its vapidity was always presented to us in high-school and undergraduate anthologies. And done so in the sweetest way possible–no pun intended–by turning its ridiculous terse solemnity inside out with a succulent paean. “Mourning Michelangelo” seems the most currently Susanesque in its wordplay, I have to say. And in its contemporary relevance. The current art–and literary, musical, etc.,–scenes do seem more and more like signposts of decadence, of a Western World Order in terminal decay, much like the orgiastic excesses of late Imperial Rome. Future historians will use the pickled grotesqueries and rotting bananas taped to gallery walls to chart the last gasps of the European-American Imperium, much as we do with the excesses of Nero and Heliogabulus. I think you’ll find this amusing: The Odysseus probe just sent to the moon–first American moon landing since 1972, by the way–had a large Jeff Koons piece attached to one side–one of his signature plexiglass cases filled with steel balls commemorating contemporary luminaries or something like that–and apparently the unbalancing weight of this case is what caused the probe to tip over on its side when landing. Not content with just undermining earthly culture, now contemporary artists can’t help but sabotage space exploration as well. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 25, 2024 Adam, what a tour de force of a comment full of sumptuous language – gems I feel like stealing for a new poem: “presiding panjandrums”, “gravity/vapidity” orgiastic excesses”, and my favorite of all “pickled grotesqueries”… they’re as delicious as a chocolate topped torte, while making some excellent points. You pick up on the message of “Mourning Michelangelo” perfectly. This poem points to the end of the world as we know it. I believe these pickled grotesqueries and unmade beds are a money-laundering power grab by those who are very close to destroying everything and everyone getting in the way of their heinous, self-serving, vision. I love the Odysseus probe story. God has an amazing sense of humor! Adam, thank you very much indeed. Reply
Joseph S. Salemi February 24, 2024 You have to wonder what kind of a flaming asshole in NASA decided that a Jeff Koons pseudo-sculpture had to be attached to a space probe. Reply
Paul A. Freeman February 25, 2024 Some of today’s modern art and free verse does have me scratching my head. That said, much of the best free verse, I find, is lyrical prose, and as a writer of prose myself, I can appreciate this rather, especially with its extended and imaginative metaphors, than dismiss it. Maybe give Ted Hughes’s ‘Wind’ or ‘Harvest Moon’ a read. Someone mentioned surrealism. What was Hieronymus Bosch, but a surrealist? In fact, some surrealists pointed to him as their inspiration. Or does Bosch get a pass because he painted during the Renaissance? Van Gogh’s hardly a traditionalist, either? Or is post-impressionism still close enough to the traditional Golden Age to be appreciated. Just so there’s no doubt where I stand, here’s a limerick I wrote a few years back in response to yet another weird Turner Prize choice: An artist who came from Cape Verde, Laid an intricate, pythoning turd; In appreciation Of this great creation, A Turner Prize judge placed it third. Speaking of Turner, he experimented with light rather than form – again a great departure from realism. Yet I find his work magnificent. In more modern times, I remember when LS Lowry passed away and I got to see his ‘Matchstalk Men and Matchstalk Cats and Dogs’, or Beryl Cook’s cheeky, curvy ladies. Wonderful stuff. Yes, there’s a proliferation of rubbish around, but maybe not all modern art and free verse should be dismissed out of hand. I’ve just read ‘The Red Wheelbarrow’ for the first time. It’s succinct, with strong imagery, but not my cuppa. As for Damien Hirst – I don’t get it. Anyhow, measured responses are welcome – and unmeasured Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 25, 2024 Thank you for your input, Paul. I think many are able to tell the difference between talent and torture where art is concerned. I have nothing against free verse. I have read many excellent free verse poems. “Plum Crazy” was originally a free verse poem. My pantoum wouldn’t be as intriguing without the rich imagery of Eliot – drawn upon when I wrote it. I believe the reason many are opposed to modern art in general is the fact that it has been hijacked for political purposes. I believe that in art, as in every walk of life, there is a spoken and an unspoken standard. These days the spoken standard has been twisted out of all recognition. If one doesn’t “get it” as you state in your closing paragraph, those who do “get it” (those who have written the rules surrounding it, those who are making fat bucks because of it, and those who are duped by these charlatans’ bogus claims) will sneer at your ignorance and ostracize you from the exclusive get-it set. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 25, 2024 … the unspoken standard is simply that… people are afraid to call out this idiocy because of the snobbery and cancel-culture that pervades the art world today. And let’s not forget, rhyme, rhythm, and rapture are considered heresy in today’s brave new world.
Joseph S. Salemi February 26, 2024 Susan, you are quite correct to point out that there is an “unspoken standard” in artistic endeavor today — a standard that determines who shall be rewarded with grants, or published, or given gallery space, or receive commentary and approbation in mainstream media or academic journals. That standard is political, and it is enforced quietly but effectively. And in contradiction to what Paul says above, it has little to do with stylistic choices (whether traditional or modernist or free verse or whatever). Artists are now judged by their level of commitment to a current political agenda set by the left, which is now in almost total control of the apparatus of education and publishing. In fact, certain figures who were once celebrated as groundbreaking modernists or revolutionaries in technique have now been retroactively cancelled because of revelations that they held opinions that are currently considered “unacceptable.” All of a sudden their groundbreaking revolutionary work doesn’t count anymore. Examples: the work of Gertrude Stein now gets the silent treatment, because it turns out that she supported the Nationalist rebellion of Francisco Franco in the Spanish Civil War. The poet E.E. Cummings isn’t discussed much these days, because it turns out, if you read some of his private letters and prose comments, that he had nothing but contempt for left-liberalism. Celine was a profoundly modernistic novelist, but his work is mostly banned in France today because he hated Communists and other left-wing garbage. William Faulkner, a towering figure in modern American literature, is dismissed and hated today because he was a very proud white Southerner who stood up for his region and his people when everyone else was attacking and cursing them. Even Hemingway, who basically re-vamped American novelistic prose style, won’t be taught in some places because a coterie of feminist bitches dislike his fierce masculinity In other words, it really doesn’t matter what style you choose to work in. As long as you toe the line about proper political attitudes and stances, your work will get some attention and perhaps be rewarded. If you don’t spout the accepted left-liberal pieties, there will be an absolute silence concerning you.
David Whippman February 27, 2024 Susan, “Mourning Michelangelo” could be an anthem for what most folk think about modern art. Well, that statement needs qualification. There are tons of less well known artists producing good, more traditional work: I know this partly through my own association with a local painting group. But like you, when it comes to Damien Hirst (hope I spelled his name right) I can’t understand what all the fuss is about. Tracey Emin? I’m not a fan of her work, but from what I know, she has stood out from the herd, expressing support for the Tories and for Israel. So kudos to her for that. I’m rambling! Good poems from you, as always. Reply
Daniel Kemper February 28, 2024 Susan! Wow, what fun!! Much has been said, let me try to have something to say. The Prufrock sendup was a roar, and with English roots, the exact level of implication at which to bring in ambivalence towards eating the peach and the women’s departure was inimitable and the funniest part of the pantoum (!) to me. As you know, I’m always a bit uncomfortable with metrical substitution, but I’m so delighted to see a sonnet in anapestic meter! And I love that meter carries its own refutation of WCW famous plum piece. And of course, you know from earlier work that I’d be a sucker for a plum poem. BTW, on “Plum Crazy.” That was a actually the name of the shade of purple a good friend in college painted his 1948 (!) Harley Davidson. Your poem on Michelangelo (ironically connected with Prufrock) made me remember “Piss Christ” and yet … don’t critique Kinsey or a pogrom will start and you’ll get blamed for it. Reply
