There is a poem which I think may be called "A Tour of the Holy Land". It
starts with the line "In this city the taxi drivers have a grim sense
of humor..."
I'd like to know who wrote this poem and I'd like to have the complete
poem. |
Request for Question Clarification by
hudelei-ga
on
08 Nov 2002 00:05 PST
Do you remember anything else about the poem's content or author? Or
maybe where you heard or read it first (in a class, on television, in
a magazine, etc.)? Any further details you could provide would be
helpful.
|
Clarification of Question by
needpoetryhelp-ga
on
11 Nov 2002 13:58 PST
I regretfuly do not have any more information about the poem. It was
published somewhere because someone did read if for me from printed
material. I do not know if it was from a magazine or a book though.
|
Request for Question Clarification by
hudelei-ga
on
13 Nov 2002 11:24 PST
I'm not coming up with anything so far -- and I assume other
researchers may be having the same problem -- so for lack of other
ideas of how to continue, let me ask a few more questions. What do
you remember about the poem's content? Was the poem from a Jewish
perspective? an Arab one? the point of view of a tourist from the
West maybe? Was it political? Did anything make you feel the poem
was very old or very recent? I assume it was read to you in English
-- do you happen to know if it was originally written in English or
translated?
I realize you may not have the answers to any of the questions I've
asked, but any other information you could provide would really help.
This is a tough question, but any little detail you could remember
might give me or another researcher an idea we could use to track the
poem down.
|
Clarification of Question by
needpoetryhelp-ga
on
13 Nov 2002 12:37 PST
In this city, the taxi drivers have a grim sense of humour
and drive too fast. They look at you, not the road,
in the rear-view mirror. They tell you their woes
in lurid, neon tones, sparing nobody, and expect yours
to be at least as bad. They wind down the window
to spit out phlegm and cigar butts and to shout at girls,
but you are qlready two blocks away before you can put a name
to the face of the one who, waiting to cross, has tied your heart
in a knot.
Amanda. Miranda. Their names are the names of streets
that lead unerringly to an angle of shadow
on the Indian bedspread, or a small bottle containing bluish liquid
rolling along the dresser top until only the moment
keeps it from falling. Like a sultry, pouting mouth
that is about to ask for the loo but just might...
I asked a friend who read the poem to me for further help and she has
the entire poem but she doesn't know who wrote it. It was torn out of
a book and given to her. The title is in fact "A Tour of the Holy
Land" and there is another poem on the back of the page called "Frog
Prince" which is probably by the same author. It's first paragraph is
:
Am I good or bad, clever of stupid?
Stendhal asks himself
in the summer of 1832
I hope this helps.
|
Request for Question Clarification by
hudelei-ga
on
15 Nov 2002 04:15 PST
That looks very helpful! I'll have some time later today and if no
other researcher has located it in the meantime, I'll try again to
track it down. Thanks for posting the extra info!
|
Clarification of Question by
needpoetryhelp-ga
on
04 Dec 2002 22:23 PST
Hi. I am hoping for an answer...soon? Do I need to up the ante?
|
