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ROBERT HAYDEN COLLECTED POEMS
Paperback
Published January 1, 1985
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May 13, 2025
I know Robert Hayden for "Those Winter Sundays"--a beautiful poem, and so I thought I'd read his collected works. It may have been on me but from that one poem, I had no idea the greater depth of his works. One, that he was African American and that so many of his poems were political in that way, or discussed the black experience. In this collection, he has poems on slavery, on Frederick Douglas, John Brown, Nat Turner, and so on. Reading his collected works shows a depth of thought that you would not have gotten just from reading the couple of poems in isolation. He references Malcolm X and Selma and Vietnam.
For many of his poems, the beauty shines through, and they are fairly short. Other poems, I may just need more historical context and understandings of his references.
The Diver
Runagate Runagate
A Plague of Starlings
I'm especially struck by these lines--
Evenings I hear
the workmen fire
into the stiff
magnolia leaves,
routing the starlings
gathered noisy and
befouling there.
Their scissoring
terror like glass
coins spilling breaking
the birds explode
into mica sky
raggedly fall
to ground rigid
in clench of cold.
The spared return,
when the guns are through,
to the spoiled trees
like choiceless poor
to a dangerous
dwelling place,
chitter and quarrel
in the piercing dark
above the killed.
From "The Tattooed Man," I enjoy these lines--
It is too late
for any change
but death.
I am I.
[American Journal]
What would happen if an alien came down to earth and observed humanity?
For many of his poems, the beauty shines through, and they are fairly short. Other poems, I may just need more historical context and understandings of his references.
The Diver
Runagate Runagate
A Plague of Starlings
I'm especially struck by these lines--
Evenings I hear
the workmen fire
into the stiff
magnolia leaves,
routing the starlings
gathered noisy and
befouling there.
Their scissoring
terror like glass
coins spilling breaking
the birds explode
into mica sky
raggedly fall
to ground rigid
in clench of cold.
The spared return,
when the guns are through,
to the spoiled trees
like choiceless poor
to a dangerous
dwelling place,
chitter and quarrel
in the piercing dark
above the killed.
From "The Tattooed Man," I enjoy these lines--
It is too late
for any change
but death.
I am I.
[American Journal]
What would happen if an alien came down to earth and observed humanity?
Displaying 1 of 1 review