H is H.D., as the poet Hilda Doolittle(1886-1961) chose to be called. When I discovered her poems, with their striking imagery, I also felt a kinship with her because of her Moravian heritage, born in Bethlehem, PA. I grew up in the Moravian church, and as I began writing poetry in my teens and twenties, it seemed quite fortuitous to find H.D. She was often described by critics as “imagist” and although she didn’t like that label, her poems do have a vivid sense of imagery. Here is one of my favorites:
“Heat” by H. D.
O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.
Fruit cannot drop
through this thick air–
fruit cannot fall into heat
that presses up and blunts
the points of pears
and rounds the grapes.
Cut the heat–
plough through it,
turning it on either side
of your path.
Related:
Imagist describes this poem as I can almost see the heavy air parting to allow fruit to ripen properly. H for HD and for Heat … Double win.
I enjoyed this poem. Love the simplicity and focus. I’m reading a book by Ted Kooser called “The Poetry Home Repair Manual”. Enjoying it immensely!
What a fantastic work you do! I have really enjoyed reading your A to Z posts. I’ll come later to read some more.
Thanks for the kind words! And for reading!