Dan's next poem recommendation

This next poem is one of my favorites from one of my all-time favorite poets, Zbigniew Herbert. Herbert was one of the premier poets of the twentieth century -- and the rest of the world was left wondering what was in the drinking water of Poland, that it could give rise to him, Czeslaw Milosz, and Wislawa Szymborska all in the same century. Herbert wrote on a tremendous range of subjects, but even when he chooses the most mundane of subjects -- a pebble, an armchair -- his poems resound with depth of feeling and meaning.

Part of the accomplishment of this poem is that he locates a very real, very personal tragedy in such an absurd object -- How can we feel pity for an armchair? -- with the kind of quiet confidence that makes the reader accept the world on his terms, to see the world through his eyes, to find that melancholy in this completely unexpected place.

It's in prose, if that means simply that it's not written in lines. But if this isn't poetry, I don't know what is. I hope you enjoy it. And if you have thoughts, questions, comments, I'd love to see them!


ARMCHAIRS

by Zbigniew Herbert

Who ever thought a warm neck would become an armrest, or legs eager for flight and joy could stiffen into four simple stilts? Armchairs were once noble flower-eating creatures. However, they allowed themselves too easily to be domesticated and today they are the most wretched species of quadrupeds. They have lost all their stubbornness and courage. They are only meek. They haven't trampled anyone or galloped off with anyone. They are, for certain, conscious of a wasted life.
The despair of armchairs is revealed in their creaking.