Emery L. Campbell
Poetry anthology book: This Gardener's Impossible Dream
Publisher: Multicultural Books, 307 Birchwood Court, 6311 Gilbert Road, Richmond, B.C., V7C 3V7, Canada
Publication date: May 2005
Number of pages: 95
Summary: selected poems by Emery L. Campbell, and original French texts plus his translations from the French of verse fables and poems by La Fontaine, Baudelaire, Verlaine, and Rimbaud.
Price: copies available for $15 including postage if mailed, from E. L. Campbell, 369 Cottage Way, Lawrenceville, GA 30044 or elcampbell08@comcast.net

Sample poem from This Gardener's Impossible Dream:

 

Parting Is Such Seat Sideshow

 

I bend; the stresses, vengeful Huns,

they sunder seam—my trousers split,

revealing bare rear bumper buns;

I blush all reddish over it.

 

Six Girl Scouts squeal, their leader swoons:

how could the Fates be so unkind?

It’s eventide; a pallid moon’s

highlighting my exposed behind.

 

Retreat’s in order, back away.

Oh no!  They’re dialing 911.

If cops come there’ll be hell to pay

before this episode is done.

 

The moral: let the penny lie.

Do not be tempted; pass on by.

 

     -Emery L. Campbell

 
Chapbook: Selected Fables and Poems in Translation
Publisher: Print1 Direct, Marietta, GA, www.print1direct.com
Publication date: December 2010
Number of pages: 57
Summary: Original French texts and English translations of more works by La Fontaine, Baudelaire, Verlaine, and Rimbaud.
Price: copies available for $15 including postage if mailed from E. L. Campbell, 369 Cottage Way, Lawrenceville, GA 30044 or elcampbell08@comcast.net.
Sample poem followed by translation from Selected Fables and Poems in Translation:

 

Chanson d’automne

 

Les sanglots longs

Des violons

   De l’automne

Blessent mon coeur

D’une langueur

   Monotone.

 

Tout suffocant

Et blême, quand

   Sonne l’heure

Je me souviens

Des jours anciens

   Et je pleure.

 

Et je m’en vais

Au vent mauvais

   Qui m’emporte

Deci, delà,

Pareil à la

   Feuille morte.

 

--Paul Verlaine.

 

Autumn’s Song

 

Long sobs begin

from violins

of autumn.

They pierce my heart;

their anguished art

leaves me numb.

 

Throat choked with grief,

pale, when brief

hours knell

I call to mind

days left behind,

and tears well.

 

I’m borne away

on winds of prey—

fitful thieves—

whirl right, drift left,

like sere, bereft

dead leaves.

 

Translated from the French of Paul Verlaine’s “Chanson d’automne.”

    -Emery L. Campbell