Favourtie Poet

My favourite poet is Charles Simic. He was born on May 9, 1938, in Belgrade, Yugoslavia, where he had a traumatic childhood. He was born during world war 2, whereby the German and the Allies took turn to drop bombs after bombs at his country. He immigrated to the United States in 1953, at the age of 15 and it was then that he spoke English for the first time. He has lived in New York, Chicago, the San Francisco area, and for many years in New Hampshire.

He was an immigrant who didn't speak until he was 15 and yet he managed to be recognised in poetry, winning several awards in writing and poetry. This could not have been achieved without hard work and determination to strive. His memories of his childhood in a war-torn country did not prevent him from striving to the best, but an inspiration to motivate him.

Despite his childhood, he is a very humorous person. This is evident from one of his interview when he reflected on his childhood, "Germans and the Allies took turns dropping bombs on my head while I played with my collection of lead soldiers on the floor. I would go boom, boom, and then they would go boom, boom". His first impulse to write was actually when he saw his friends writing a poem to attract the best-looking girls and that was what he said in the interview. He knew that sobbing and crying in his pillow won't help anything. Therefore, he maintained his humor and carry on with life.

The following is 3 of his poems:

Against Winter

The truth is dark under your eyelids.
What are you going to do about it?
The birds are silent; there's no one to ask.
All day long you'll squint at the gray sky.
When the wind blows you'll shiver like straw.

A meek little lamb you grew your wool
Till they came after you with huge shears.
Flies hovered over open mouth,
Then they, too, flew off like the leaves,
The bare branches reached after them in vain.

Winter coming. Like the last heroic soldier
Of a defeated army, you'll stay at your post,
Head bared to the first snow flake.
Till a neighbor comes to yell at you,
You're crazier than the weather, Charlie.

Clouds Gathering

It seemed the kind of life we wanted.
Wild strawberries and cream in the morning.
Sunlight in every room.
The two of us walking by the sea naked.

Some evenings, however, we found ourselves
Unsure of what comes next.
Like tragic actors in a theater on fire,
With birds circling over our heads,
The dark pines strangely still,
Each rock we stepped on bloodied by the sunset.

We were back on our terrace sipping wine.
Why always this hint of an unhappy ending?
Clouds of almost human appearance
Gathering on the horizon, but the rest lovely
With the air so mild and the sea untroubled.

The night suddenly upon us, a starless night.
You lighting a candle, carrying it naked
Into our bedroom and blowing it out quickly.
The dark pines and grasses strangely still.

Read Your Fate

Little street,
You were too narrow,
Too much in the shade already.

You had only one dog,
One lone child.
You hid your biggest mirror,
Your undressed lovers.

Someone carted them off
In an open truck.
They were still naked, travelling
On their sofa

Over a darkening plain,
Some unknown Kansas or Nebraska
With a storm brewing.
The woman opening a red umbrella

In the truck. The boy
And the dog running after them,
As if after a rooster
With its head chopped off.


Sources: http://www.cortlandreview.com/issuefour/interview4.htm
http://poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/27
http://www.poemhunter.com/charles-simic/