i'm just a literary tease, my reputation's on its knees.

Gettin' Jiggy W/ The Poundster

February 28, 2005

Hey, man, Ezra Pound was a pretty cool dude.

I mean, just look at him:

I'd write a poem about his coolness only that would be dorky... well, maybe I will:

Ezra Pound was a swell guy,
even if he was a commie.
Or perhaps because he was?

He was a lover of...
languages: mmm,
the romance ones,
to be precise.

Sometimes Ezra went a little nutty,
or maybe just that one time
when he got locked up
for his Fascist politics.

Robert Frost liked him,
it's true.
better than he liked me
or you.

Um. right. The whole point of that fiasco was the share the fact that Ezra Pound, despite sounding like being right on the brink, was only 35 when he wrote this poem. When I was 16, 35 seemed way old, man, but now that I'm 26? That's not so old... nuh uh!

"I do not choose to dream; there cometh on me / Some strange old lust for deeds."

Basically I see the poem "In the Old Age of the Soul" by Ezra Pound as that of an old dude thinking about all the great stuff that he used to do in the past, but now that's he's all old and shit, he doesn't have the energy to *do* all the stuff he used to do so instead he just sits around and thinks about it.

He wants to keep on keepin' on and would much rather be able to keep on doing the same old stuff - note especially the imagery of an aging solider remembering his fierce battles. All he has now are his memories, memories that spurn him to action - or at least to wanting to get out there again (Mid-life crisis, anyone?). His final flame before death is a fierce desire to be young again.

Moira at 10:08 PM :: Comments (1) :: ::

Definetly sounds tragic to me--the entire piece made me feel like I ought to take this guy out for dinner just to get him out and doing something. I agree that he sounds too old (or makes himself seem to old) for much activity--right on, Moira. But in the title it is "The Old Age of -the Soul-" not the body or mind--emphasis on the soul.

People often say you're only as old as you feel. I tell you what, some days I can feel like I'm 30 or 60 or 80--bones creaking and all!--but the narrator of this poem, I think, needs to get a grip on what's really happening in his life and live while life's worth living.

Posted by: Karissa at March 1, 2005 06:28 PM
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