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The voice does go up in a poem. It is an address, even if it is to oneself.
Derek Walcott
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Derek Walcott
Age: 87 †
Born: 1930
Born: January 23
Died: 2017
Died: March 17
Author
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
Writer
Derek Alton Walcott
Sir Derek Alton Walcott
Address
Addresses
Poem
Oneself
Voice
Doe
Even
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The thing that is believed is a reality.
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How can I turn from Africa and live?
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I look in the mirror. There's me. What's in the mirror is not real. So am I unreal?
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Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.
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In Eden who sleeps happiest? The serpent.
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The poem is itself a mirror.
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The sigh of History rises over ruins, not over landscapes, and in the Antilles there are few ruins to sigh over, apart from the ruins of sugar estates and abandoned forts.
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She's a rare vase, out of a cat's reach, on its shelf.
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Summer for prose and lemons, for nakedness and languor.
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You can't write drunk.
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When you get a class reciting some great poems, it'll tear your heart out.
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The first thing we have to do is get rid of the pentameter. To ditch the pentameter.
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The future happens. No matter how much we scream.
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To change your language you must change your life.
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Damn wind shift sudden as a woman mind.
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A culture, we all know, is made by its cities.
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For every poet it is always morning in the world history a forgotten, insomniac night. The fate of poetry is to fall in love with the world in spite of history.
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The personal vocabulary, the individual melody whose metre is one's biography, joins in that sound, with any luck, and the body moves like a walking, a waking island.
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Memory that yearns to join the centre, a limb remembering the body from which it has been severed, like those bamboo thighs of the god.
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We read, we travel, we become.
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