Francis Ponge & The Pleasures of the Door

April is Poetry month, so I will be posting some of my favorite poems here. Just a quick word about reading poetry first: I used to hate it. I used to think it took too much effort to get to the bottom of what a poem was trying to say, like there was some all-encompassing interpretation I needed to grasp before I could enjoy a poem. Instead, too often, my eyes would glaze over, then I would have to start over again, and usually I would just give up on it altogether. And, to be honest, I still suffer from this sometimes. But now I believe there are better ways of approaching a poem. Just enjoying the music of the words (reading aloud is best) or the pleasures of conjuring an image inside the mind. If we're open to it, poems can de-familiarize the world around us and make us notice things we otherwise wouldn't. This first poem is a good example of that.

The Pleasures of the Door by Francis Ponge

(translated by C.K. Williams)

Kings never touch doors.

They're not familiar with this happiness: to push, gently or roughly before you one of these great friendly panels, to turn towards it to put it back in place -- to hold a door in your arms.

The happiness of seizing one of these tall barriers to a room by the porcelain knob of its belly; this quick hand-to-hand, during which your progress slows for a moment, your eye opens up and your whole body adapts to its new apartment.

With a friendly hand you hold on a bit longer, before firmly pushing it back and shutting yourself in -- of which you are agreeably assured by the click of the powerful, well-oiled latch.

Image courtesy of Giampaolo Macorig