day ends or night begins with t.s. eliot and w. b. yeats.
sometimes it's the endurance of the poets that impresses me most.
how i begin reading one of their pieces and catch myself thinking "well...fine...but this is a poem of a great known poet?"
and then i keep on reading and am simply stunned how they manage to
wrap new imagery around every line, and come up with unexpected twists
and turns, and
they just go on, breathless, and i am always way back, inspired yet sad
cause there are so many words and meanings i do not even understand,
and it all sounds so intelligent and far away from me. makes me think i
have to study english first before i can even come up with something so
grounded, specific and clever like they could.
anyway, i am grateful they brought this great gift to the world as many other poets did.
"And I have known the eyes already, known them all -
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?"
- T. S. Eliot, from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
// 19.11.12
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