Pure Thoughts: In Celebration of National Poetry Month

While viewing the segment from TV One’s Unsung Hollywood, regarding the movie “Cooley High,” I couldn’t help but recognize the show of appreciation for the thoughtfulness of poetry, and the power behind the spoken word.

I have always had an absolute admiration for poetic quotes, how individuals sensitively pay attention to their inner self, sharing those deep thoughts with us. 

Where are the men who love expressing themselves through poetic phrases?  I find it rather interesting how I’ve only met a few gentlemen who happen to acquainted with expressing through words.  Receiving a bouquet of flowers is fine, but when a man can expose his romantic side through lyrical content, that really provides a sense of utter delight, bringing happiness to an otherwise dismal day.

Though I read poems frequently, since April is considered the month set aside to commemorate poets and poetry, I would also love to applaud them.

To start the celebration off, we will spotlight writer Walter Benton (1907-1976). 

Born in Austria of Russian parents, Benton lived most of his life in the United States.  After working on a farm, in a steel mill, as a window washer, as a salesman, and at various other jobs, he entered Ohio University in 1931, and in due course, graduated.  He then spent five years as a social investigator in New York.  During the second World War, he served in the United States Army, being commissioned a lieutenant of the Signal Corps in the autumn of 1942 and later being promoted to a captaincy.  After the war he returned to New York and devoted his time to writing. 

At the end of the war he returned to his position with the City of New York and began writing prose, being published in the Yale Review, Fantasy, and The New Republic.  His first published volume, "This is My Beloved," a diary from 1943 put to verse, was very controversial due to the graphic intensity of his prose.  Some even called it pornography.  It has since been hailed as a remarkable journey of love, love lost, and love unrequited. It is recognized as an American classic.

Below is the popular portion of that diary:

June 22nd entry:

Were I Pygmalion or God, I would make you exactly as you are . . . in all dimensions.
From your warm hair to your intimate toes would you be wholly in your own image. I would change nothing, add or take away.

The same full red flower would model for your mouth - and from the same seashore would I bring the small translucent ear shapes of your ears.
Oh, the lovely throat that I could duplicate!
The tender arms!
I would shape your breasts the shape of the hungry little faces they are now. . . and tip them with the same quick mouths.

I could not make your eyes deeper than they are - nor softer to look into . . . nor could I turn your hips, your thighs, your belly in a sweeter curve: nor indent the hollows of your loins more tenderly - or store more honey there or fire.

How would I name you . . . need you ask? 

You know, By the scarlet and the blue you wear when love is upon you, by the yellow tongues - by the warm white fragrance . . . by the slender leaves.

 

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