Springing: New And Selected Poems by Marie PonsotSpringing: New And Selected Poems by Marie Ponsot

Springing: New And Selected Poems

byMarie Ponsot

Paperback | October 21, 2003

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From the award-winning author of The Bird Catcher, this life-spanning volume offers the delight of both discovery and re-discovery, as Ponsot tends the unruly garden of her mind with her customary care and passion. The book opens with a group of new poems, including “What Would You Like to Be When You Grow Up?”—a question that has kept Ponsot’s work vital for more than five decades. Throughout the selections from her four earlier books and a trove of previously unpublished work covering the years 1946 to 1971, she offers us a “lost haven in a springing world.” Sometimes sharp in her self-perception, but always listing toward pleasure and elegance, unafraid of grief and the passage of time, Ponsot continually refreshes her language and the spirited self from which it emerges.


From the Hardcover edition.
Marie Ponsot’s first book of poems was True Minds (1956); later books are Admit Impediment (1981) and The Green Dark (1988). She is a native New Yorker who has enjoyed teaching at Queens College, Beijing United University, the Poetry Center of the YMHA, New York University, and Columbia University. Among her awards are an NEA Creative ...
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Title:Springing: New And Selected PoemsFormat:PaperbackDimensions:256 pages, 8.33 × 5.88 × 0.63 inPublished:October 21, 2003Publisher:Knopf Doubleday Publishing GroupLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0375709878

ISBN - 13:9780375709876

Reviews

Read from the Book

SpringingIn a skiff on a sunrisen lake we are watchers.Swimming aimlessly is luxury, just as walkingLoudly up a shallow stream is.As we lean over the deep well, we whisper.Friends at hearths are drawn to the one warm air;stranger meet on beaches drawn to the one wet sea.What wd it be to be water, one body of water(what water is is another mystery). (We arewater divided.) It wd be a self without walls, with surface tension, specific gravity, a local exchange between bedrock and cloud of falling and rising,rising to fall, falling to rise.Old Jokes AppreciateUp the long stairs I runstumbling, expectant.Impatience is hopelesslydesperate. Hopetakes time.Sort out the private from the personal.Advance on losses at a decent pace."Aside from all that, Mrs. Lincoln,how did you like the play?"Origin The skull or shell or wall of bone shaped with its egg advantages does not advertisethe gardens it contains,the marriages, the furies,or the city it shelters(clangs, clouds, silences,found souls crowding,big dank cans where thingsputrify)or the glade it hidesfor us to hide in, where—our lives eased open—we drowse by the pond and wakebeside ourselves with thirst,where (dipping the cup we find)we get of necessitya drink of some depthfull of tasteand originalenergy. The darling face, the fragrant chevelure, even the beautiful ears on the shell do not boast about the workplace inside. They prefer to appear to agree they are just along for the ride.From the Hardcover edition.

Editorial Reviews

"Marie Ponsot's poetic achievement is fiercely independent. A courageous eloquence is sustained throughout her work, as she mounts up what Emerson called 'the stairway of surprise.'"
---Harold Bloom


From the Hardcover edition.