The Poet not the Critic Sees the Truth

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The willow cutting, grown,

Becomes a holy place with lights,

The fireflies floating.

~ Issa [Englished by Phillip Whidden]

The critic of the poem seems to think

That weeping willows wait like women torn

With sorrow or he sees the fireflies blink,

Wink, blink among the limbs, that females mourn

And men do not, that gentle movements sway

As women walk, and men have hips that do

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Not swagger with a muscled grace.  They may

Swing graciously despite the critic’s spew

Of ignorance about the masculine.

This prejudice against male beauty shows

The critic’s blindness as a type of sin.

(At least he doesn’t ruin fireflies’ glows.)

  The fireflies flitting to and fro align

    Themselves with swishing limbs in nature’s shrine.

© Phillip Whidden