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Come Closer and Listen: New Poems
An insightful and haunting new collection from Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Charles Simic
Irreverent and sly, observant and keenly imagined, Come Closer and Listen is the latest work from one of our most beloved poets. With his trademark sense of humor, open-hearted empathy, and perceptive vision, Charles Simic roots his poetry in the ordinary world while still taking in the wide sweep of the human experience. From poems pithy, wry, and cutting—“Time—that murderer/that no has caught yet”—to his layered reflections on everything from love to grief to the wonders of nature, from the story of St. Sebastian to that of a couple weeding side by side, Simic’s work continues to reveal to us an unmistakable voice in modern poetry. An innovator in form and a chronicler of both our interior lives and the people we are in the world, Simic remains one of our most important and lasting voices on the page.
Irreverent and sly, observant and keenly imagined, Come Closer and Listen is the latest work from one of our most beloved poets. With his trademark sense of humor, open-hearted empathy, and perceptive vision, Charles Simic roots his poetry in the ordinary world while still taking in the wide sweep of the human experience. From poems pithy, wry, and cutting—“Time—that murderer/that no has caught yet”—to his layered reflections on everything from love to grief to the wonders of nature, from the story of St. Sebastian to that of a couple weeding side by side, Simic’s work continues to reveal to us an unmistakable voice in modern poetry. An innovator in form and a chronicler of both our interior lives and the people we are in the world, Simic remains one of our most important and lasting voices on the page.
74 pages, Hardcover
Published July 2, 2019
32 people are currently reading
187 people want to read
About the author
Charles Simic
257 books472 followersU.S. Poet Laureate, 2007-2008
Dušan Charles Simic was born in Belgrade, former Yugoslavia, on May 9, 1938. Simic’s childhood was complicated by the events of World War II. He moved to Paris with his mother when he was 15; a year later, they joined his father in New York and then moved to Oak Park, a suburb of Chicago, where he graduated from the same high school as Ernest Hemingway. Simic attended the University of Chicago, working nights in an office at the Chicago Sun Times, but was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1961 and served until 1963.
Simic is the author of more than 30 poetry collections, including The World Doesn’t End: Prose Poems (1989), which received the Pulitzer Prize; Jackstraws (1999); Selected Poems: 1963-2003 (2004), which received the International Griffin Poetry Prize; and Scribbled in the Dark (2017). He is also an essayist, translator, editor, and professor emeritus of creative writing and literature at the University of New Hampshire, where he taught for over 30 years.
Simic has received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the MacArthur Foundation, the Academy of American Poets, and the National Endowment for the Arts. His other honors and awards include the Frost Medal, the Wallace Stevens Award from the Academy of American Poets, and the PEN Translation Prize. He served as the 15th Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, and was elected as Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets in 2001. Simic has also been elected into the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
Dušan Charles Simic was born in Belgrade, former Yugoslavia, on May 9, 1938. Simic’s childhood was complicated by the events of World War II. He moved to Paris with his mother when he was 15; a year later, they joined his father in New York and then moved to Oak Park, a suburb of Chicago, where he graduated from the same high school as Ernest Hemingway. Simic attended the University of Chicago, working nights in an office at the Chicago Sun Times, but was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1961 and served until 1963.
Simic is the author of more than 30 poetry collections, including The World Doesn’t End: Prose Poems (1989), which received the Pulitzer Prize; Jackstraws (1999); Selected Poems: 1963-2003 (2004), which received the International Griffin Poetry Prize; and Scribbled in the Dark (2017). He is also an essayist, translator, editor, and professor emeritus of creative writing and literature at the University of New Hampshire, where he taught for over 30 years.
Simic has received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the MacArthur Foundation, the Academy of American Poets, and the National Endowment for the Arts. His other honors and awards include the Frost Medal, the Wallace Stevens Award from the Academy of American Poets, and the PEN Translation Prize. He served as the 15th Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, and was elected as Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets in 2001. Simic has also been elected into the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 64 reviews
April 2, 2021
I am a lifelong fan of Simic (who like Ernest Hemingway, graduated from Oak Park R0ver Forest High School, just blocks from my house), but as we both head into old age, I had low expectations (is that an age-ist comment?!) I’ve read in the past few years the later work of other poets such as Donald Hall and Mary Oliver, and the work is just generally not as good as early work. But still good, still worth reading, if you have gotten to know these folks over the years, old friends.
This book exceeded my expectations, hitting most of the touchstones I expect from him, such as his humor, his whimsy, his sometimes dark insights. Has it always been there, his awareness of looming death (he’s 82 as I write this)?, or is it more a function of old age? I think it’s always been there. Many poems openly discuss death: “Is Charles Simic afraid of death?/ Yes.”
Here’s one of the best poems in the collection:
Ghost Ship
Those blessed moments
That pretend
They’ll stay with us forever—
Soon gone,
Without a fare-the-well.
What’s the rush?
I heard myself say.
You have the right
To remain silent,
The night told me
As I sat in bed
Hatching plans
On how to hold the next
Captive in my head.
I recall a window thrown open
One summer day
On a grand view of the bay
And a cloud in all that blue
As pale as the horse
Death likes to ride
Always happy to shoot the breeze,
That lone cloud
Was telling me
As it drifted out to sea,
Toward some
Ship on the horizon,
That had already
Set sail
And was about to vanish
Out of sight,
On the way to some port
And country
Without name.
A ghost ship,
Most surely,
But mine all the same.
Always some surrealism:
You were a witness
To so many crimes
In your lifetime, my friend,
No wonder most nights
You can be found
Testifying at a trial
In some country
Whose language
You don’t even speak.
The proceedings
Brutally slow
With more and more corpses
Being brought in
Their ghastly wounds
As you saw them
With your own eyes
And in photographs.
You’ll be asked
To return tomorrow,
So once more
You’ll stagger out of bed
And grope your way
Toward the silent
Crowded courtroom
Already in session
Just down the hall.
Some whimsy weaves throughout:
Astronomy Lesson
The silent laughter
Of the stars
In the night sky
Tells us all
We need to know
Throughout run references to prayer and God: “One or two candles still burning/ In your terrifying absence/ Under the dark and majestic dome.”
This book exceeded my expectations, hitting most of the touchstones I expect from him, such as his humor, his whimsy, his sometimes dark insights. Has it always been there, his awareness of looming death (he’s 82 as I write this)?, or is it more a function of old age? I think it’s always been there. Many poems openly discuss death: “Is Charles Simic afraid of death?/ Yes.”
Here’s one of the best poems in the collection:
Ghost Ship
Those blessed moments
That pretend
They’ll stay with us forever—
Soon gone,
Without a fare-the-well.
What’s the rush?
I heard myself say.
You have the right
To remain silent,
The night told me
As I sat in bed
Hatching plans
On how to hold the next
Captive in my head.
I recall a window thrown open
One summer day
On a grand view of the bay
And a cloud in all that blue
As pale as the horse
Death likes to ride
Always happy to shoot the breeze,
That lone cloud
Was telling me
As it drifted out to sea,
Toward some
Ship on the horizon,
That had already
Set sail
And was about to vanish
Out of sight,
On the way to some port
And country
Without name.
A ghost ship,
Most surely,
But mine all the same.
Always some surrealism:
You were a witness
To so many crimes
In your lifetime, my friend,
No wonder most nights
You can be found
Testifying at a trial
In some country
Whose language
You don’t even speak.
The proceedings
Brutally slow
With more and more corpses
Being brought in
Their ghastly wounds
As you saw them
With your own eyes
And in photographs.
You’ll be asked
To return tomorrow,
So once more
You’ll stagger out of bed
And grope your way
Toward the silent
Crowded courtroom
Already in session
Just down the hall.
Some whimsy weaves throughout:
Astronomy Lesson
The silent laughter
Of the stars
In the night sky
Tells us all
We need to know
Throughout run references to prayer and God: “One or two candles still burning/ In your terrifying absence/ Under the dark and majestic dome.”
October 6, 2021
After Saying Your Prayer
You who are fed up with my silence,
If you are still awake at this hour,
Listen to me as I tell you why
I’m afraid of you and keep myself
Carefully hidden in some tree
Where I sit like one of your owls
Brooding as the centuries pass.
A star falls now and then in heaven.
The sea sends another surly wave
Against the rocks, telling me
To stay where I am, even though I’m God.
You who are fed up with my silence,
If you are still awake at this hour,
Listen to me as I tell you why
I’m afraid of you and keep myself
Carefully hidden in some tree
Where I sit like one of your owls
Brooding as the centuries pass.
A star falls now and then in heaven.
The sea sends another surly wave
Against the rocks, telling me
To stay where I am, even though I’m God.
November 26, 2020
Here is one random example:
Tugboat
by Charles Simic
Bringing the summer night in
Over the calm and purple sea
As if it were a barge filled with coal.
The rows of widow's walks
Along the rocky coast
Stand white and deserted.
The long-suffering wives
Of whaling ship captains
Lie buried in family graveyards
Dotting the darkening hills.
The bloodshot eye of the setting sun
Keeping watch for them.
Tugboat
by Charles Simic
Bringing the summer night in
Over the calm and purple sea
As if it were a barge filled with coal.
The rows of widow's walks
Along the rocky coast
Stand white and deserted.
The long-suffering wives
Of whaling ship captains
Lie buried in family graveyards
Dotting the darkening hills.
The bloodshot eye of the setting sun
Keeping watch for them.
April 4, 2023
"Time - that murderer
No one has caught yet"
Simic's world is haunted with echoes of wars, scams and loves had and lost. His ironic and compassionate way of looking at humans and their affairs is sharp with this collection of poetry. There is anger, fear and sadness in his poems. Humans weep in the dark and in one way or another, we are afraid of what comes next because we can't escape that wry smile that seems to know the score “They say Death/ Hid his face in his hood/ So he could smile too,”
No one has caught yet"
Simic's world is haunted with echoes of wars, scams and loves had and lost. His ironic and compassionate way of looking at humans and their affairs is sharp with this collection of poetry. There is anger, fear and sadness in his poems. Humans weep in the dark and in one way or another, we are afraid of what comes next because we can't escape that wry smile that seems to know the score “They say Death/ Hid his face in his hood/ So he could smile too,”
January 21, 2019
https://rogueliterarysociety.com/f/co...
The first, and only, book by Charles Simic that I have previously read was titled The Book of Gods and Devils. The poems were not remarkable, but neither were they a waste of time. I can see why some readers like his poetry. It is straightforward and easy to read. However, Simic seems to never choose words that resonate in lyricism or are in any way incestual with his surrounding syntax, especially the syllables. My discerning ear insists on lyricism and remarkable word choice in the poetry I tend to enjoy and that is why Simic will never suffice. The poet Jack Gilbert comes instantly to mind as a poet who does resonate with me. Charles Simic also does not make my head explode the way Emily Dickinson so ably and consistently managed to do, and who also insisted that all great poetry will prove to do the same. Simic’s poesy lines are almost infantile even if his subject matter is not. And that is probably the bigger attraction to his readers.
The title of this book, Come Closer and Listen: New Poems kept evoked to my ear the music and lyrics to Neil Young’s song Harvest Moon.
Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleeping
We could dream this night away
But there's a full moon rising
Let's go dancing in the light
We know where the music's playing
Let's go out and feel the night
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon
When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart
But now it's getting late
And the moon is climbing high
I want to celebrate
See it shining in your eye
Never a big lover of Young’s song Harvest Moon due to that sweeping broom sound he seemed to be so fond of. But Young’s mediocre lyrics above are every bit as good and simple as Simic’s. Of course, his song is not topical and perhaps it wouldn’t be found in a typical Simic book. But not all of Simic’s poems are topical. The following poem is one example a potential convert or committed acolyte might get excited about.
Bed Music
Our love was new
But our bedsprings were
old.
On the floor below
They stopped eating
With forks in the air,
While we went on
Playing our favorites:
“Shake it Baby,”
“Slow Boogie,”
“Shout, Sister, Shout.”
That was the limit!
They called the cops.
Did you bring beer?
We asked the men in blue
As they broke down the
door.
Most likely beginning even before my high school years, poetry basically had been ruined by dedicated and well-meaning teachers and what they had established through their own training as required reading and instruction. The fact that this type of teaching only tends to enlist and further a discerning student’s perpetual disdain for poetry, but also encourages aspiring young scribes to write the same way. The fact that Simic has held prestigious posts in the United States regarding the teaching and promotion of poetry only adds to the genre being milked down to a standard abhorred by truly great poets such as Jack Gilbert. And I just cannot imagine Wallace Stevens or Emily Dickinson having anything good to say about Simic’s poetry found within the pages of this book either. I wish it were different but the following poem is what you can generally expect to find within the pages of this book:
Birds of a Feather
I like the black keys better
I like the lights turned
down low
I like women who drink
alone
While I hunch over the
piano
Looking for all the pretty
notes
The first, and only, book by Charles Simic that I have previously read was titled The Book of Gods and Devils. The poems were not remarkable, but neither were they a waste of time. I can see why some readers like his poetry. It is straightforward and easy to read. However, Simic seems to never choose words that resonate in lyricism or are in any way incestual with his surrounding syntax, especially the syllables. My discerning ear insists on lyricism and remarkable word choice in the poetry I tend to enjoy and that is why Simic will never suffice. The poet Jack Gilbert comes instantly to mind as a poet who does resonate with me. Charles Simic also does not make my head explode the way Emily Dickinson so ably and consistently managed to do, and who also insisted that all great poetry will prove to do the same. Simic’s poesy lines are almost infantile even if his subject matter is not. And that is probably the bigger attraction to his readers.
The title of this book, Come Closer and Listen: New Poems kept evoked to my ear the music and lyrics to Neil Young’s song Harvest Moon.
Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleeping
We could dream this night away
But there's a full moon rising
Let's go dancing in the light
We know where the music's playing
Let's go out and feel the night
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon
When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart
But now it's getting late
And the moon is climbing high
I want to celebrate
See it shining in your eye
Never a big lover of Young’s song Harvest Moon due to that sweeping broom sound he seemed to be so fond of. But Young’s mediocre lyrics above are every bit as good and simple as Simic’s. Of course, his song is not topical and perhaps it wouldn’t be found in a typical Simic book. But not all of Simic’s poems are topical. The following poem is one example a potential convert or committed acolyte might get excited about.
Bed Music
Our love was new
But our bedsprings were
old.
On the floor below
They stopped eating
With forks in the air,
While we went on
Playing our favorites:
“Shake it Baby,”
“Slow Boogie,”
“Shout, Sister, Shout.”
That was the limit!
They called the cops.
Did you bring beer?
We asked the men in blue
As they broke down the
door.
Most likely beginning even before my high school years, poetry basically had been ruined by dedicated and well-meaning teachers and what they had established through their own training as required reading and instruction. The fact that this type of teaching only tends to enlist and further a discerning student’s perpetual disdain for poetry, but also encourages aspiring young scribes to write the same way. The fact that Simic has held prestigious posts in the United States regarding the teaching and promotion of poetry only adds to the genre being milked down to a standard abhorred by truly great poets such as Jack Gilbert. And I just cannot imagine Wallace Stevens or Emily Dickinson having anything good to say about Simic’s poetry found within the pages of this book either. I wish it were different but the following poem is what you can generally expect to find within the pages of this book:
Birds of a Feather
I like the black keys better
I like the lights turned
down low
I like women who drink
alone
While I hunch over the
piano
Looking for all the pretty
notes
May 16, 2019
"Much grief awaits us, friends."
Come Closer and Listen is a book of poems that seem to mainly be about the poet's daily life (or anyone's daily life), and the day to day things people see. I struggled to connect with this book, and none of the poems were very memorable for me. There were a lot of dead or dying animals, and that's really not my favorite topic. There wasn't much going on, and the collection did not hold my interest very well.
Come Closer and Listen is a book of poems that seem to mainly be about the poet's daily life (or anyone's daily life), and the day to day things people see. I struggled to connect with this book, and none of the poems were very memorable for me. There were a lot of dead or dying animals, and that's really not my favorite topic. There wasn't much going on, and the collection did not hold my interest very well.
June 20, 2019
Oh Simic, you are bored. Tired academic regurgitating American cliche, what happened to your edge? Don't go all Billy Collins on us, man, get invested. Hackneyed false starts and throwaway stanzas aren't worth it. Rework "Late night quiz" with "The Many Lauras", "Summer night" with "Meditation in the Gutter" and get rid of everything else but "Bed Music", "Arson" and "Tugboat" and perhaps "Last Picnic" and start over.
January 25, 2022
4.5 most of this is lovely and powerful
April 28, 2023
“Time—that murderer
No one has caught yet”
With his own unique prose, moving imagery, and symbolism that stays with one long past the time they close the book — Simic deserves every literary praise he’s received. Each part was so human, raw and complex, reflecting on both personal and objective truths of being.
No one has caught yet”
With his own unique prose, moving imagery, and symbolism that stays with one long past the time they close the book — Simic deserves every literary praise he’s received. Each part was so human, raw and complex, reflecting on both personal and objective truths of being.
April 11, 2025
Only birds and animals these days
Are sane and worth talking to.
I don't mind waiting for a horse
To stop grazing and hear me out.
-- "Mad People"
Are sane and worth talking to.
I don't mind waiting for a horse
To stop grazing and hear me out.
-- "Mad People"
March 12, 2022
La risata silenziosa delle stelle nel cielo di notte ci dice tutto ciò che ci serve sapere. https://www.instagram.com/ilmondodichri/
November 26, 2023
** 1.5 STARS **
October 12, 2019
I looked over the previous reviews for this book and that's when I knew I was in over my head here. Admittedly, I am not a sophisticated reader of poetry. I am not all that familiar with the nuances of poetry but I know when I like a poem. I am a Billy Collins fan and I love the poetry of Maggie Smith, Kelli Russell Agodon, Mary Oliver, Jane Hirshfield, Tracey Smith, Donald Hall - you get it. I honestly had not heard of Charles Simic until I read a review of this latest book of his poetry so I requested it from the library.
Despite my limited grasp on poetry, I will agree with some of the reviewers who suggested that, overall, the poems were not remarkable. But, as one other reviewer noted, they weren't a waste of time either. Interestingly enough my top three poems were all included in the last section. Let me just give you one of them:
After Saying Your Prayer
You who are fed up with my silence,
If you are still awake at this hour,
Listen to me as I tell you why
I'm afraid of you and keep myself
Carefully hidden in some tree
Where I sit like one of your owls
Brooding as the centuries pass.
A star falls now and then in heaven.
The sea sends another surly wave
Against the rocks, telling me
To stay where I am, even though I'm God.
I am intrigued enough by this taste of Charles Simic that I have requested other books of his from the library. Let me see for myself if he is getting tired as other reviewers suggest.
Despite my limited grasp on poetry, I will agree with some of the reviewers who suggested that, overall, the poems were not remarkable. But, as one other reviewer noted, they weren't a waste of time either. Interestingly enough my top three poems were all included in the last section. Let me just give you one of them:
After Saying Your Prayer
You who are fed up with my silence,
If you are still awake at this hour,
Listen to me as I tell you why
I'm afraid of you and keep myself
Carefully hidden in some tree
Where I sit like one of your owls
Brooding as the centuries pass.
A star falls now and then in heaven.
The sea sends another surly wave
Against the rocks, telling me
To stay where I am, even though I'm God.
I am intrigued enough by this taste of Charles Simic that I have requested other books of his from the library. Let me see for myself if he is getting tired as other reviewers suggest.
November 13, 2023
a beautiful and quite hauntingly stunning collection of prose.
January 25, 2020
These poems are short, clever, and accessible, but also often confusing, and I found myself unmoved. This is usually the kind of poetry that I love: short and witty. I just couldn’t connect.
Truck Stop
Death the pale thief
Who works alone,
Sipping coffee in the rear booth
Of an all-night diner,
While hatching plans
How to rob one of the truckers
Of his life tonight
As he closes his eyes
Over the steering wheel,
Remembering a pretty hitchhiker
Wave goodbye to him
And grow smaller and smaller
In his rearview mirror
Along with fleeing lights.
Hey, Loudmouth
Like a suicide
Dangling by one hand
From a parapet,
This spider talks to himself,
Cusses too,
As he sways to and fro
by a thread,
His voice growing louder
In my head
Lying wide awake
In this big old bed.
November 27, 2023
simic’s empathy is whimsical and tender. he brings aching, conscious personhood even to luck itself. awareness can be near-paralyzing when you are “a witness/to so many crimes” (from Light Sleeper), knowing “much grief awaits us (from Skywalking), as ready for death “as much as a squirrel crossing the road” (from Late Night Quiz). the characters in these poems hold little agency compared to the grand forces he personifies. this relative inaction is useful for his meditations. it’s also haunting reading this following his passing.
“living in complete ignorance/of what goes on in the world/is the well-guarded secret/of their lifelong happiness.” (from It’s a Day Like Any Other) this collection makes an implicit case against ignorance without relying on the joys and responsibilities of agency. i am on a walk now thinking let be.
“living in complete ignorance/of what goes on in the world/is the well-guarded secret/of their lifelong happiness.” (from It’s a Day Like Any Other) this collection makes an implicit case against ignorance without relying on the joys and responsibilities of agency. i am on a walk now thinking let be.
January 10, 2023
Hermosísimo. Viva siempre Charles Simic.
October 6, 2023
Surprisingly, I couldn’t find books by Simic that I reviewed on Goodreads, so I must have read them before 2009, probably some of his selected poetry volumes. I was publishing poems by then and attending, sometimes hosting, a poetry reading group. I was also delighted to hear him read live. I preferred his earlier books to this one, since I especially enjoyed his surrealism and his vivid, though frightening stories of childhood in Serbia/Yugoslavia. However, he was still Charles Simic. No way was I going to knock him down to four stars. These poems seemed shorter, cleaner, more to the point than his early work. He kept up with the times. And I still enjoyed this collection. His title, Come Closer and Listen, fit these quieter poems and his older age.
The title poem begins with a whallop, no pun intended:
“I was born–don’t know the hour–
Slapped on the ass
And handed over crying
To someone many years dead
In a country no longer on a map,…”
The poem before it, “Blind Fate,” ended with
“Blind fate here runs the show.”
Even shorter and more to the point is “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” in just two lines.
“Time–that murderer
No one has caught yet.”
My favorite poem of the collection is “Meditation in the Gutter,” which ends with a wonderful cat metaphor that I’ll leave you to discover on your own.
The title poem begins with a whallop, no pun intended:
“I was born–don’t know the hour–
Slapped on the ass
And handed over crying
To someone many years dead
In a country no longer on a map,…”
The poem before it, “Blind Fate,” ended with
“Blind fate here runs the show.”
Even shorter and more to the point is “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” in just two lines.
“Time–that murderer
No one has caught yet.”
My favorite poem of the collection is “Meditation in the Gutter,” which ends with a wonderful cat metaphor that I’ll leave you to discover on your own.
January 11, 2023
finally digging into some simic in honor of his recent passing, and i thought i'd start with the one collection by him that i own! this was definitely a quick read with a fair amount of misses but when he hits he hits WELL. i know this collection got mixed reviews as well so i'm excited to read more as he has a huge catalogue to work through! (will probably be checking out The Voice at 3:00 A.M.: Selected Late and New Poems next per recommendation)
tugboat
bringing the summer night in
over the calm and purple sea
as if it were a barge filled with coal.
the rows of widow's walks
along the rocky coast
stand white and deserted.
the long-suffering wives
of whaling ship captains
lie buried in family graveyards
dotting the darkening hills.
the bloodshot eye of the setting sun
keeping watch for them.
sit tight
when the old clock
that woke the dead
with its loud tick finally fell silent,
eternity moved in.
a mirror looked toward the door
with eyes of a dog
pleading to be taken
out for a long walk.
tugboat
bringing the summer night in
over the calm and purple sea
as if it were a barge filled with coal.
the rows of widow's walks
along the rocky coast
stand white and deserted.
the long-suffering wives
of whaling ship captains
lie buried in family graveyards
dotting the darkening hills.
the bloodshot eye of the setting sun
keeping watch for them.
sit tight
when the old clock
that woke the dead
with its loud tick finally fell silent,
eternity moved in.
a mirror looked toward the door
with eyes of a dog
pleading to be taken
out for a long walk.
August 22, 2020
I didn't fall in love with this, but there are some gems ("Haystack," in particular comes to mind.) I haven't read a ton of Simic, but some and this was a pleasant escape because it's been a while since I picked a new volume of poetry by a contemporary poet.
I read Stephen Sondheim's collected lyrics books some years ago along with his notes on them. In one of those notes Sondheim (as great a poet as we've got though because his poems are song lyrics and hard to read alone he's not read as such) said that a true poet is one who's been tempted to use cerulean or azure but has learned the word blue instead. I don't think what he's said is a universal truth of poetry, personally, but it certainly has more than a little value, and absolutely can be true. Simic to me, embodies that idea in this collection and the other work of his I've read, making better use of simple everyday language than any poet (yes even William Carlos Williams and his red wagon) that I know.
I read Stephen Sondheim's collected lyrics books some years ago along with his notes on them. In one of those notes Sondheim (as great a poet as we've got though because his poems are song lyrics and hard to read alone he's not read as such) said that a true poet is one who's been tempted to use cerulean or azure but has learned the word blue instead. I don't think what he's said is a universal truth of poetry, personally, but it certainly has more than a little value, and absolutely can be true. Simic to me, embodies that idea in this collection and the other work of his I've read, making better use of simple everyday language than any poet (yes even William Carlos Williams and his red wagon) that I know.
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December 31, 2019“The silent laughter
Of the stars
In the night sky
Tells us all
We need to know
<<
“You were a witness
To so many crimes
In your lifetime, my friend,
No wonder most nights
You can be found
Testifying at a trial
In some country
Whose language
You don’t even speak.
The proceedings
Brutally slow
With more and more corpses
Being brought in
Their ghastly wounds
As you saw them
With your own eyes
And in photographs.
You’ll be asked
To return tomorrow,
So once more
You’ll stagger out of bed
And grope your way
Toward the silent
Crowded courtroom
Already in session
Just down the hall.
>>
When the old clock
That woke the dead
With its loud tick finally fell silent,
Eternity moved in.
A mirror looked toward the door
With eyes of a dog
Pleading to be taken
Out for a long walk..”
Of the stars
In the night sky
Tells us all
We need to know
<<
“You were a witness
To so many crimes
In your lifetime, my friend,
No wonder most nights
You can be found
Testifying at a trial
In some country
Whose language
You don’t even speak.
The proceedings
Brutally slow
With more and more corpses
Being brought in
Their ghastly wounds
As you saw them
With your own eyes
And in photographs.
You’ll be asked
To return tomorrow,
So once more
You’ll stagger out of bed
And grope your way
Toward the silent
Crowded courtroom
Already in session
Just down the hall.
>>
When the old clock
That woke the dead
With its loud tick finally fell silent,
Eternity moved in.
A mirror looked toward the door
With eyes of a dog
Pleading to be taken
Out for a long walk..”
July 8, 2022
Woohoo! The first book of poetry I have ever read (for my own enjoyment). And I did it in order too!
I think this is great stuff to begin getting into poetry because often, I can become overwhelmed trying to figure out the "greater meaning" of a poem, but for a lot of these, I just started to enjoy the scenes Simic dropped me into and the imagery he uses. As Aric Knuth told me --try to find out what's interesting in the poem before you go anywhere near the "meaning".
I also thought the order of the poems was really well crafted and you can definitely tell the sections of the book have different themes (evil/death, God, pleasure, etc).
Favorite poems: ghost ship, sunday service, that young fellow, meditation in the gutter, you'll be pleased with our product, among the ruins
I think this is great stuff to begin getting into poetry because often, I can become overwhelmed trying to figure out the "greater meaning" of a poem, but for a lot of these, I just started to enjoy the scenes Simic dropped me into and the imagery he uses. As Aric Knuth told me --try to find out what's interesting in the poem before you go anywhere near the "meaning".
I also thought the order of the poems was really well crafted and you can definitely tell the sections of the book have different themes (evil/death, God, pleasure, etc).
Favorite poems: ghost ship, sunday service, that young fellow, meditation in the gutter, you'll be pleased with our product, among the ruins
September 27, 2025
A delightful collection of musings on life. These are impactful but they do not wallop. I liked the way simic sees objects and moments. They are spare, often short, but always enough. The list of journals at the end where the poems in this collection were first published is quite impressive. I'm very glad I picked it up. I didn't give the book for stars because I can't say I have much of a feel for Simic's body of work from this meager collection. I don't expect these poems to reach back out and ask to be reread; nor did I find them overly memorable. But there were two that struck me so much that I read them aloud to someone else. Its a small collection of really good poems on life. I'm glad I picked it up.
October 1, 2021
For Charles Simic's poetry one has to acquire a taste, like an aging fine wine that now is a little past its prime. Poets with enviable reputations, like Simic, should pace themselves and present sterling work that preserves that reputation, rather than feel compelled to release books every couple of years, which mostly consist of substandard and forgettable poems, that will ultimately alienate his fans. I wish I could say the purchase of this latest effort was worth the purchase price, but in all honesty I can't recommend it. Best just to look for those poems published by the New Yorker and other media organs that cultivate the populist taste in poetry.
July 23, 2020
I'm sure I say this every time but reviewing poetry is hard and so frickin' subjective.
So I guess all I can really say is I like them.
They remind me of Billy Collins but I don't find that to be the insult some other reviewers do. I'm okay with poetry that just uses familiar images, words, and settings. Not everything has to be "esoteric" to be important or emotional.
I'd hand this to anyone who has thinks poetry "isn't for me" and to folks who are entrenched in the genre - it's got something for both kinds of readers.
So I guess all I can really say is I like them.
They remind me of Billy Collins but I don't find that to be the insult some other reviewers do. I'm okay with poetry that just uses familiar images, words, and settings. Not everything has to be "esoteric" to be important or emotional.
I'd hand this to anyone who has thinks poetry "isn't for me" and to folks who are entrenched in the genre - it's got something for both kinds of readers.
December 30, 2024
This graphic book about the Russian attack on Ukraine is both beautiful and distressing. The stories of people suffering are heart-rending and bring a spirit of hopelessness to this world in which far too few people have learned that no one has the right to start a war. But the story telling here, and the memories left will bring hope for an end to the violence, and perhaps even an end to war itself. I'm very grateful for people who take the time and energy to produce a personal and colorful record like this. The least I can do is read it and learn about these people and their suffering.
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January 13, 2022“Blessed or cursed--who is to say?
I no longer fret about it,
Since I’ve heard people talk
Of a blind lady called Justice
Eager to hear everyone’s troubles,
But don’t know where to find her
And ask her the reason
The world treats me some days well,
Some days ill. Still, I’d never
Be the first to blame her.
Blind as she is, poor thing,
She does the best she can.”
Excerpt From
Come Closer and Listen
Charles Simic
This material may be protected by copyright.
I no longer fret about it,
Since I’ve heard people talk
Of a blind lady called Justice
Eager to hear everyone’s troubles,
But don’t know where to find her
And ask her the reason
The world treats me some days well,
Some days ill. Still, I’d never
Be the first to blame her.
Blind as she is, poor thing,
She does the best she can.”
Excerpt From
Come Closer and Listen
Charles Simic
This material may be protected by copyright.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 2, 2025
I enjoyed the satirical poems most, the first poem "Some birds chirp" got me -
Some birds chirp
Others have nothing to say.
You see them pace back and forth,
Nodding their heads as they do.
It must be something huge
That's driving them nuts--
Life in general, being a bird.
Too much for one little brain
To figure out on its own.
Still, no harm trying, I guess,
Even with all the racket
Made by it's neighbours,
Dartung and bickering nonstop.
Some birds chirp
Others have nothing to say.
You see them pace back and forth,
Nodding their heads as they do.
It must be something huge
That's driving them nuts--
Life in general, being a bird.
Too much for one little brain
To figure out on its own.
Still, no harm trying, I guess,
Even with all the racket
Made by it's neighbours,
Dartung and bickering nonstop.
February 1, 2025
I think, unfortunately, no one writes their best poetry in their old age. Surely this collection would not win the Pulitzer. But that sounds overly negative. Late poetry is interesting to read, as poets can put into words the universal difficulties of aging and of death. I liked many of the poems here, my favorites:
"Tugboat"
"Strange Sweetness"
"Imponderabilia"
"The Many Lauras"
"The American Dream"
"After Saying Your Prayer"
"Tugboat"
"Strange Sweetness"
"Imponderabilia"
"The Many Lauras"
"The American Dream"
"After Saying Your Prayer"
November 6, 2019
This read was definitely a spur of the moment decision from the library that I feel mostly indifferent about. There were three or four poems that I enjoyed enough to take note, but overall I feel eh about the collection. Not good, not bad, just a bit bored. I don’t think I would put this on the top of any recommendations list, but do what you want, y’all.
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