Roses Only
You do not seem to realize that beauty is a liability rather thanan asset - that in view of the fact that spirit creates form we are justified in supposing that you must have brains.
For you, a symbol of the unit, stiff and sharp,conscious of surpassing by dint of native superiority and liking for everythingself-dependent, anything anambitious civilization might produce: for you, unaided, to attempt through sheer reserve, to confuse presumptions resulting from observation, is idle.
You cannot make us think you a delightful happen-so.
But rose, if you are brilliant, itis not because your petals are the without-which-nothing of pre-eminence.
Would you not, minusthorns, be a what-is-this, a mereperculiarity? They are not proof against a worm, the elements, or mildew;but what about the predatory hand?
What is brilliance without co-ordination?
Guarding the infinitesimal pieces of your mind, compelling audience tothe remark that it is better to be forgotten than to be re- membered too violently,your thorns are the best part of you.
This poem was typed in the form that the poet used.
The space and line breaks make for interesting pauses, and add to the tension of the final line.
Marianne Moore
Other author posts
The Past is the Present
If external action is effeteand rhyme is outmoded, I shall revert to you, Habakkuk, as when in a Bible classthe teacher was speaking of unrhymed verse He said - and I think I repeat his exact words - Hebrew poetry is prosewith...
The Fish
wadethrough black Of the crow-blue mussel-shells, one keepsadjusting the ash heaps; opening and shutting itself like aninjured fan The barnacles which encrust the sideof the wave, cannot hide there for the submerged shafts of thesun,spli...
To a Steam Roller
The illustrationis nothing to you without the application You lack half wit You crush all the particles downinto close conformity, and then walk back and forth on them Sparkling chips of rockare crushed down to the level of the pare...
Rosemary
Beauty and Beauty's son and rosemary - Venus and Love, her son, to speak plainly -born of the sea supposedly, at Christmas each, in company, braids a garland of festivity Not always rosemary - since the flight to Egypt, blooming indifferently...