Richard W Halperin – Beauty from Ashes

Halperin LE P&W JULY 2025

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Live Encounters Poetry & Writing July 2025

Beauty from Ashes, poems by Richard W Halperin.


Beauty from Ashes

After the assassination of John F. Kennedy,
Jacqueline and Robert Kennedy were helped
for years by reading Edith Hamilton’s The Greek Way,
for the deep strength
it gave them. According to friends,
Robert read from it daily
until he himself was assassinated.
I am helped by Isaiah 53, the Suffering
Servant – ‘so disfigured did he look
that he seemed no longer human’ –
which most images of Jesus entirely ignore.
My wife was helped by many things;
when young, by Howards End.
One can be helped by anything of
beauty which has managed to survive:
a picture, a book, a prayer, a
conversation, a piece of music.
Maugham, old, said he was helped
by the last Act of Die Meistersinger.
My father, at age 22, was asked
by his fraternity brothers at University
of Illinois, Urbana, to buy for
the fraternity house a record, the kind
we now call 78s. He bought
John McCormack singing the Prize
Song from Die Meistersinger.
This poem is not really about any
of this, but I must write it. It is
about the Aegean Sea, very bright
and very blue, very bright and very blue.


Far from the Ship The Nellie   

 ‘. . . we knew, before the ebb began to run, that we were fated
 to hear about one of Marlowe’s inconclusive experiences.’
– Joseph Conrad, The Heart of Darkness

There follows one of the great explorations
of the human soul. ‘Inconclusive.’ That
does me good at the start of another
heavy day, given the world news,
its gratuitous wars, its maniacs and clowns,
which I cannot separate myself off from,
which seem to be part of the vast
inconclusiveness of my own experiences.
Except for some. Which are brilliant. Which
are brilliance. Love. A shock extended over
whatever time is – my marriage, for example,
my parents, for example, and if there was
guilt there – and there was; mine – even that
was brilliant, all torn off and given me
from wherever something different from
experience comes from in the first place.

Saturday Morning

‘Purgation, illumination, and (if so
privileged) union’ is part of Clifton Wolters’
preface to his modern translation of
The Cloud of Unknowing. All the late plays
and poems of T.S. Eliot dramatise these.
Most of the late plays and poems of Yeats
dramatise these. I live with all of them,
recently, as evil – both radical and banal –
lodge themselves in my natal land and
in a few countries which I know a little.

Things will move on. Nothing ever
goes away completely. Emersonian
America never went away. The Gorbachevs
never went away.

‘Purgation, illumination, and (if so
privileged) union. I think these happen
every second in each star, including
our own sun. And between each second,
what has to be purged.


A Small Blue Glass Stone   

for Theresa Nicholas

The Chorus in T.S. Eliot’s 1939
verse play The Family Reunion says
‘And now it is time for the news
We must listen to the weather report
And the international catastrophes.’
This morning I listen to the news.
My pen feels natural in my hand.
Nothing else does.
Paper and scissors and a tube of glue,
I think, feel natural in the hand of
my friend Theresa in New York State
as she works on one of her collages.
I look at a recent one, which includes
a small blue glass stone and a fragment
of a small twig. The stillness of it.
Would it have come out that way
without bombs? There are bombs
in ‘Lapis Lazuli.’ There are bombs –
if one listens – in ‘Dover Beach.’

The Blue Rose of Forgetfulness

When young, I heard pings
which later I knew were poetry:

the shadow of the valley of death
the eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg
the blue rose of forgetfulness.

The latter was from the film
The Thief of Bagdad, as was
‘I want to be a sailor sailing out to sea.’

I am way out on that sea now. Alone,
although for a while I was not alone.

Other sailors went sailing out to sea
in their little matchbox boats. Milton,
Larry Hart, so many. They help,
these great ones.

They find the music in the heart of sorrow.
The OK of having made so many mistakes.
The ridiculousness of explanation.
The ping of poetry.


‘Ecce Puer’

‘Ecce Puer.’ Sixteen fragile lines
by Joyce. A hand up – a newborn’s.
It makes me glad I did not throw in
the towel all those desperate times.
I did once, and was rescued.

‘Ecce Puer.’ Some things are
so pure they are the smile without
the moon or the pallor without
the moon. A faceprint in the sky
or crib which makes sky and crib
seem pudgy and dowdy.


© Richard W Halperin

Richard W. Halperin was born in Chicago, holds U.S.-Irish dual nationality and lives in Paris. His work is part of University College Dublin’s Irish Poetry Reading Archive. This year Salmon Poetry/Cliffs of Moher will bring out All the Tattered Stars: New and Selected Poems, Introduction by Joseph Woods, which draws upon four Salmon collections and sixteen shorter collections via Lapwing Publications/Belfast & Ballyhalbert. In 2024, Lapwing brought out two additional collections: The Painted Word and Three Red Hats.

2 Replies to “Richard W Halperin – Beauty from Ashes”

  1. The Blue Rose of Forgetfulness: what a terrific poem, Richard!

    Please let me know if you’re reading in Paris.

    From one Parisian to another,

    Kaaren

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