Lyric Poems

Ok, Poets, since I posted an example of a narrative poem (and a bit of exposition), I thought I'd give you all a sample of a lyric poem. I've been reading this book by Brenda Shaughnessy, Human Dark with Sugar, and thought you all might enjoy the opening poem, "I'm Over the Moon." I'll follow up with a few notes as to why this is a lyric poem so you have a sense of what I mean.

"I'm Over the Moon"

I don't like what the moon is supposed to do.
Confuse me, ovulate me,

sppon-feed me longing. A kind of ancient
date-rape drug. So I'll howl at you, moon,

I'm angry. I'll take back the night. Using me to
swoon at your questionable light,

you had me chasing you,
the world's worst lover, over and over

hoping for a mirror, a whisper, insight.
But you disappear for nights on end

with all my erotic mysteries
and my entire unconscious mind.

How long do I try to get water from a stone?
It's like having a bad boyfriend in a good band.

Better off alone. I'm going to write hard
and fast into you, moon, face-fucking.

Something you wouldn't understand.
You with no swampy sexual

promise but what we glue onto you.
That's not real. You have no begging

cunt. No panties ripped off and the crotch
sucked. No lacerating spasms

sending electrical sparks through the toes.
Stars have those.

What do you have? You're a tool, moon.
Now, noon. There's a hero.

The obvious sun, no bullshit, the enemy
of poets and lovers, sleepers and creatures.

But my lovers have never been able to read
my mind. I've had to learn to be direct.

It's hard to learn that, hard to do.
The sun is worth ten of you.

You don't hold a candle
to that complexity, that solid craze.

Like an animal carcass on the road at night,
picked at by crows,

haunting walkers and drivers. Your face
regularly sliced up by the moving

frames of car windows. Your light is drawn,
quartered, your dreams are stolen.

You change shape and turn away,
letting night solve all night's problems alone.

--Brenda Shaughnessy
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With as many poems as there are about the moon, this one struck me in its playful, accurate and sharp language. While she suggests a dozen or more narratives, she never goes there. One of my favorite lines: "It's like having a bad boyfriend in a good band" sends us off into our own stories, but doesn't continue. Instead, it's the language play, the rhythm and rhyme that keep us tripping along in this poem:

What do you have? You're a tool, moon.
Now, noon. There's a hero.

The obvious sun, no bullshit, the enemy
of poets and lovers, sleepers and creatures.

Shaughnessy uses assonance in such a wonderful way: do/you/tool/moon/noon and then rears back with "hero" to end-stop the line. The alliteration in "Now, noon" is also impressive as it works to stop the rhythm short and underscore what she's trying to say (e.g., the moon can't be trusted in its sneaky beauty--unlike the "obvious sun").

Along with the way the sounds of the language work on us, the poem alludes to much: It brings together pop culture movements/references like "Take Back the Night" along with the established poetic tradition of John Donne (and others) with the "enemy of poets and lovers, sleepers and creatures." This line referencing Donne's "The Sun Rising."

While you might say that there is an arc to the poem, it's not a narrative arc in which "something happens." The Colonel, for instance, does not spill ears on the table, leaving us with a lesson in politics and evil. Instead, "I'm Over the Moon" pulls us, pushes us, tricks and trips us through its language, going through lyrical phrases and phases like the moon itself. Sound is always wed to meaning.

--LG