In the midst of great conversation this evening I was reminded of this poem by Canadian poet Dorothy Livesay – it’s called Bartok and the Geranium and on the surface it is about the observed interplay the poet imagines between the music of Bela Bartok and her geranium. Of course there is much to this poem but even on the surface it is brilliant.
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Bartok and Geranium
She lifts her green umbrellas
Towards the pane
Seeking her fill of sunlight
Or of rain;
Whatever falls
She has no commentary
Accepts, extends,
Blows out her furbelows,
Her bustling boughs;
Towards the pane
Seeking her fill of sunlight
Or of rain;
Whatever falls
She has no commentary
Accepts, extends,
Blows out her furbelows,
Her bustling boughs;
And all the while he whirls
Explodes in space,
Never content with this small room:
Not even can he be
Confined to sky
But must speed high and higher still
From galaxy to galaxy,
Wrench from the stars their momentary notes
Steal music from the moon.
Explodes in space,
Never content with this small room:
Not even can he be
Confined to sky
But must speed high and higher still
From galaxy to galaxy,
Wrench from the stars their momentary notes
Steal music from the moon.
She’s daylight
He is dark
She’s heaven-half breath
He storms and crackles
Spits with hell’s own spark.
He is dark
She’s heaven-half breath
He storms and crackles
Spits with hell’s own spark.
Yet in this room this moment now
These together breathe and be:
She, essence of serenity,
He in a mad intensity
Soared beyond sight
Then hurls, lost Lucifer,
From heaven’s height.
These together breathe and be:
She, essence of serenity,
He in a mad intensity
Soared beyond sight
Then hurls, lost Lucifer,
From heaven’s height.
And when he’s done, he’s out:
She leans a lip against the glass
And preens herself in light.
She leans a lip against the glass
And preens herself in light.
Harnessing Chaos 
Just FYI, there are some errors in your transcription of “Bartok and the Geranium.” You’ve quoted it incorrectly in a few places.
Cheers,
Kevin
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Hey Kevin – Thanks for the note I have made the corrections and am in your debt. Appreciated!
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But Bela Bartok was a man. The duality of gender is imperative in grasping this poem.
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This is a good insight…i am uncertain if Livesay intended that but it comes through when read with it in mind certainly.
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When weighed against some of the other Canadian poets of this period, Livesay is very light-handed and subtle in her intertextuality- I love the way that this poem makes a statement without shouting it, unlike some of Irving Layton’s work (although I love “Whatever else, poetry is freedom” for that reason 🙂 ). To me, this poem seems to argue that “modernist poets” can craft a work of art without actively taking a stance in any direction, but rather, by gently observing.
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