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My Resignation
Be still, my Heart, be stiller than the grave.
When consciousness dissolves into the sea,
This desperate taste will fade with memory
Of nothing, undisturbed by bitter wave.
Be still, my Heart, be stiller than the grave.
And now deep vices and regrets take hold.
The taverns and the bistros roar with booze
While blighted tenements digest the news.
The self-loving are gorged with love and gold,
And now deep vices and regrets take hold.
As night descends, small objects breathe a sigh:
A yellowed manuscript, keys, wallet, socks,
Wooden planks, a door hinge, a Sèvres box.
Beneath the jigsaw puzzle of the sky,
As night descends, small objects breathe a sigh.
Do you hear the whispering taffeta of night,
My Soul? The industrious sun pulls down
And a sea of vacancy envelopes the town.
Are her silk strides not sweeter than the light?
Do you hear the whispering taffeta of night?
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Michael Taormina is Associate Professor of French literature in the Romance Languages Department at Hunter College, CUNY. He has translated French poetry, plays and philosophy, and he has written criticism on the early seventeenth-century poets François de Malherbe, Théophile de Viau, and Vincent Voiture.
I’m reading this poem as a resignation from life.
Meantime, ‘the whispering taffeta of night’! What a great image amongst many others.
Thanks for the read, Michael. You have a unique voice that has made me read through this piece three times… so far.
I have not thought about taffeta for decades since I used to hear it rustle as young girls moved through the hallways of my school or danced in the youth center. Interesting poetic form to make the first line also the last line of each verse as reinforcement. Like Paul, I am still contemplating the message and thrust of this poem.
Poets usually do a great job of writing in meter and verse, or play with imagery. One or other but never both.
It’s always a treat when a poet is able to do justice to both.
Many congratulations.
Yes, a beautiful poem for all the reasons given above. Mysterious and artfully composed, it begs re-reading.
This poem leaves a profound echo in the gut. “The jigsaw puzzle of the sky”; “ a sea of vacancy”; and “the whispering taffeta of night (with “her silk strides”) are among the many phrases dense with brilliant imagery.
Michael, I note that while you have been listed as a member of SCP, this is your first submission of a poem. After reading it, I grieve that you have not submitted earlier but thrill in the anticipation of more to follow!
“My Resignation” is as well designed, crafted, woven and filled with elaborate and imaginative imagery and mythos as a mediaeval tapestry.
As Oliver Twist is famous for asking, “Please, sir, may I have some more?”
These are beautiful quintains, and they are redolent of melancholy, disappointment, and deep regret. I am reminded of some of Baudelaire’s despairing meditations on Paris.
This poem reminds me of a fine still-life painting. The image it creates in my mind is of a seaside town during and after sunset, as daily activities cease and give way to various night-time occupations, which are as diverse as the inhabitants of the town. The resignation could pertain to the setting sun which gives way to the darkness of night, as much as the inner life and thoughts of the speaker who is a living witness of the scene as well as an active participant in it. It’s an enjoyable poem for its pleasing construction as well as its mood and imagery all working together. The painting of The Bay Of Naples is a great match.
The imagery reminds me of what I appreciate in Eliot’s poetry, but I don’t feel the pathos of his poems here. Instead, “The Resignation” makes me think of an aging poet (which I am) who’s coming to terms with his life and preparing himself for the silken solace to come – more like acceptance than regret.
I had to look up Sèvres box, which I’ve seen but didn’t know to name, so the wooden planks baffled me the most of those things that sighed. Oh, is that a coffin-in-the-making? Regardless, I enjoyed your poem and hope to see more.
Curious envelopes, Michael. You use envelope quatrains abba, and then firmly close each with a refrain to turn them into envelope quintains AbbaA. In the last stanza you say that a “sea of vacancy envelopes the town.” Is the poem both a resignation and the vacant (that is, empty) envelope in which it is presented? Letters of resignation sometimes hide the reason for it, and I get the feeling of something hidden here. Nice effect.
I must thank you all for the kindness and generosity of your comments. I had not known about The Society of Classical Poets, and it is a relief to find a website where the traditional forms of poetry may be cultivated, appreciated, and criticized—not dismissed out of hand. In my own limited experience in working with rhymed stanzas, I find them unexpectedly liberating as they often inspire an esthetic choice that I would not usually make without the pattern demanded by the form.
This particular poem is indeed inspired by Baudelaire, with a sprinkle of Leopardi for good measure. I cannot hold a candle to either of these masters, but one thing I appreciate about their work is the way they are able to turn negative thoughts and feelings into something beautiful. I wanted to try doing something similar for myself.
I look forward to returning to this website throughout the year. There is so much to explore, so many ingenious and creative poets working with classical forms—I anticipate long hours of pleasure and learning.
Again, I thank you for your warm welcome.
Michael Taormina
I read this poem a week ago and returned to it even more struck both by its fine craftsmanship and the overwhelming sense of melancholy it conveys (great choice of title art, by the way). The tone is frank and conversational, making the rhyme and meter seem natural. Your theme is something all of us can relate to, and related in a relatable way. I also like the repetition, which adds to the plaintive tome, reminiscent of a villanelle. Truly excellent.