BALMS
Hemmed in by the prim
deodorizing stare
of the rare-book room,
I stumbled over,
lodged under glass, a
revenant ‘Essay on Color’
by Mary Gartside, a woman
I’d never heard of, open
to a hand-rendered
watercolor illustration
wet-bright as the day
its unadulterated red-
and-yellow was laid on
(publication date 1818).
Garden nasturtium hues,
the text alongside
explained, had been
her guide. Sudden as
on hands and knees
I felt the smell of them
suffuse the catacomb
so much of us lives in-
horned, pungent, velvet-
eared succulence, a perfume
without hokum, the intimate
of trudging earthworms
and everyone’s last end’s
unnumbered, milling tenants.
Most olfactory experience
either rubs your nose
in it or tries to flatter
with a funeral home’s
approximation of such balms
as a theology of wax alone
can promise, and the bees
deliver. Mary Gartside
died, I couldn’t even
learn the year. Our one
encounter occurred by chance
where pure hue set loose
unearthly gusts of odor
from earthbound nasturtiums.
Amy Clampitt, 1980
Leaves & Pages 
[…] Source: Poetry: ‘Balms’ by Amy Clampitt […]
Such a good post! I put you on Google and on my FB page. This deserves to be known indeed.
Oh, thank you for the very kind words. So glad you enjoyed it. I do so like this poet, and was reminded of the poem when I came across my nasturtium photos from last autumn. Serendipitous combination. 🙂
Thanks Barb, this made my morning…if not my day! Di
So happy to hear that, Di. Occasionally I post some interesting poems I come across; usually when I’m too otherwise-occupied to write an actual book post! In the midst of Performing Arts Festival busy-ness right now, getting dance registry underway with piano, vocal and speech galloping close behind. AND we are framing up the new greenhouse, in between cold snaps and snowstorms. 2016 starting off with lots of action – there is no winter hibernation in my life this year. Oh, and seeds under my banks of grow lights a-sprouting away, of course…which is why we need to push forward with the propagation house…will need it up and running in about 3 weeks or so! Hope all is well down in your end of the valley. Must try to make a Scrabble night. Maybe next week? Have you been going? 🙂
Happy New Year, who has the name Clampitt? I thought that was Jed, Jethro and Granny’s name exclusive! Shows how cultured I am!
Happy New Year, dear over-the-water neighbours! That whole Christmas thing zipped by so fast this year. Hope you had some good family time and now are able to have a bit of down time, gathering strength for the spring. We still hope to make it to your side one day, but things keep materializing in our lives and throwing our good intentions into turmoil. You know how that goes, I am sure!
Regarding Clampitt, I did the tiniest bit of research (Google, bless its easy little soul) and came up with the info that Clampitt derives from Clampett, an old English name from Devon, actual meaning unknown,but possibly having to do with clay works in relation to glass blowing. It is a relatively common name – in both its spellings – in the USA, in particular in the Ozark mountain region where of course our best-known fictional Clampetts hailed from.
File under: Learn Something New Every Day. (Or, possibly, Too Much Information?) 😉
Thank you for this beautifull poem, dear Barb! It made my day and the days after better (they are grey and full of rain and mud, this january, as in decembr, and november… No real winter in this part of Holland, no snow).
Nasturtium we call Oost Indische Kers (East Indien Cherry), Oost Indië being Indonesia, one of our colonies long time ago.
Every year I grow this flower from seed in a big morteltube, becaus the soil in our wood-garden is to sandy for them. Ik love them.
Please send us as many poems as you can find of this kind. I will try to buy Clampitts by abebooks.
Marijke
Marijke, I am so glad you enjoyed it. It brought me the memories of being in the summer garden, and that unmistakeable nasturtium fragrance. They are one of my favourite flowers. I always think the leaves look like they should belong to little water lilies.
One year I grew a whole row in the vegetable garden, just for fun, and had little bouquets in the house all summer, and gave so many to my mother that she finally begged me to stop, as she didn’t care for the smell. I was a bit shocked – how could one not love it?! But she did not like the smell of paperwhite narcissus, either, which I adore, and some other strongly scented flowers – big double peonies, a few very fragrant tulips, oriental lilies… Our noses are all so different!
I will share some more poems, as I find I am reading poetry this time of year, a bit each night before I turn off my light. If I wake up in the morning still thinking of the poem that is extra nice. And Amy Clampitt was a very interesting and quite well known American poet; you should be able to find some of her volumes quite easily, I hope.
Good wishes to muddy, wet Holland, from cold and snowy Canada. Spring is coming – the days are getting longer! 🙂