Carl Sandburg, an American poet from Illinois, is a modern creator of epic poetry. Not in the slang sense (well, yes, but also no), but in the sense of poems that are sagas and take the reader on journeys. While not textbook-definition epics, his poems are the logical continuation of that trend of Western civ. From Wiki: "Epics tend also to highlight cultural norms and to define or call into question cultural values, particularly as they pertain to heroism". I have his chapbook Honey and Salt, which contains 77 poems of varying length, unfortunately some of the standout choices are too long to reproduce for blog purposes. The works are lyrical and full of (literal) questions about man's surrounds, with little foray into experimental forms or formats. Sometimes the text can be a little whimsical, with items such as "moonmist" and "windflowers", but it doesn't take away from the work in the slightest. Here are some items that echo and play with "epic" themes.
Leif the Lucky
Leif Ericson crossed the sea
to get away from a woman--
did he?
I have looked deep into the cisterns of the stars--
said Leif--and the starts too, everyone one was a
struggler.
My neck shall not be broken without a little battle--
said Leif--and I shall always sing a little in
tough weather.
I hunted alligators on the moon and they had excellent
teeth for grinding even as the camels had excellent
humps for humping--so ran one of his dreams.
He told the crew of a souse who said, Get me drink
and have some fun with me--and his mood
changed and he told them it would be grand
to travel the sky in a chariot of fire like Elijah.
He saw a soft milk white horse on the top cone of an
iceberg looking for a place to slide down to
pearl purple sea form--and he murmured,
"I've been lonely too, though never so lonely
one wind wouldn't take me home to the four
winds."
He went on murmuring, "Never have I known time to
fail me, time with its monotonous mumbling in
the masts and stanchions, its plashing plashing
measuring plashing the bulwarks, the slinking
of the sea after a storm, the crying of the birds
as they ride the wind when the wind goes down".
He lifted his head toward scrawny warning horizons
and nailed up a slogan: Blessed are they who
expect nothing for they shall not be disappointed:
Yes Leif Ericson crossed the sea
to get away from a woman--
perhaps--maybe.
I like the idea of a stoic-sounding character such as Leif Ericson using humor, having dreams, and flights of fancy. There is a bit of a taste of the biblical, with Elijah and chariots and Blessed and such adding to the epic feel of the poem (that, and, the Blessed slogan strikes me as very British, with their empires and explorations I feel it fits nicely). Here's another short-ish one, but I can't recommend enough the longer pieces, especially Timesweep (even the name speaks of epics).
Lesson
In early April the trees
end their winter waiting
with a creep of green on branches.
In early October the trees
Listen for a wind crying,
for leaves whirling.
The face of the river by night
holds a scatter of stars
and the silence of summer blossoms
falling to the moving water.
Come clean with a child heart.
Laugh as peaches in the summer wind.
Let rain on a house roof be your song.
Let the writing on your face
be a smell of apple orchards in late June.
So, that one isn't really an epic in any way, even as it does move through time. But it's very pretty, and very composed (in the calm way, rather than the contrived way).
I have to go do other things, sorry for the clipped prose.
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