Word: poetesses
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With these lines, a Belgian poetess registered her protest against Fellow Poetess Pierette Micheloud, of Vex, Switzerland, who insisted on puffing away at a long-stemmed, elegant pipe. The limerick was by far the sharpest contribution heard at the First International Poetry Biennial, which assembled 200 poets from 30 countries at Knokke le Zoute, Belgian seaside resort, to spend a happy four days talking shop and eying each other's iambs...
Summed up pipe-smoking Poetess Micheloud: "One gets the impression of being at a medical congress ... To speak of poetry as one would speak of the causes and effects of illness is to reduce it to the monotonous purr of humanity and kill it." Perhaps the best evidence of what seems to be ailing 20th century poetry was furnished by a delegate from The Netherlands who quoted a fellow poet and countryman, Koos Schuur...
...further result of the Pusan story, the citizens of at least one city are embarked on a group effort. At the home of TIME-reader Louisa Boyd Gile, poetess and wife of a retired Army major, some 30 key citizens of La Jolla, Calif, met to set up relief plans for the world's needy and neglected children. The group will center its initial efforts on arousing the interest of local civic groups, plans to spend the first money it raises on school rehabilitation kits and tents to substitute for bombed-out school buildings...
There is Dincher the trumpeter, who thinks he can trade hot licks with Louis Armstrong; Timmy the homosexual dancer; Louella, a kittenish advance-guard poetess who wants to hang out with real cats; an impotent sadist who pushes (sells) junk to schoolchildren, and a sordid slew of others. Diane has a ball (doped-up good time) with all of them, but can't escape her own ritualistic premise: "There's nothing. There's nowhere, everything is empty." She ricochets from man to man in love affairs as monotonous as the click of billiard balls...
Sleek and slinky Countess Pia Bellentani was an amateur poetess and a woman of passion. She had long regarded her relations with the middle-aged count, her husband, as a "purely formal duty." Her friend Carlo Sacchi the silk merchant was an amateur poet as well and only slightly less passionate. In Italy's caviar and champagne set during the early '40s, the two made a neatly rhymed couplet, and even Signora Sacchi nodded at their idyl on the theory that it was only a "passing passion...