RED -- NOW
MAMA -- HERE
-- Quine, bard of infant cognition and ontogenesis
RED -- NOW
MAMA -- HERE
-- Quine, bard of infant cognition and ontogenesis
Upon the sudden assassination of President McKinley, Theodore Roosevelt is rushed to Washington, at sunset:
An old farmer, hearing the onrush of the train,
climbed off his harrow and stood to attention,
his red shirt indandescent
in the horizontal light.
Children ran to cluster around him.
Their spindly shadow, leaping east,
briefly stroked the wheels of Roosevelt’s car.
For the next half hour,
Roosevelt sat with his elbow on the window ledge,
staring through his own reflection
at the speeding darkness.
-- Edmund Morris, Theodore Rex (2001), p. 36 -7
hot sun
beat down
on bald heads
and bright medals
-- Edmund Morris, Theodore Rex (2001), p. 110
light sliced
through thinning trees
-- Edmund Morris, Theodore Rex (2001), p. 120
Light vertical, horizontal, and aslant.
The selections which appear on this site with the label “found poetry”, are so chosen by reason of a certain pithy verbal felicity, which makes the phrase (or sentence, or distich) stand forth from its prose context; it may or may not reflect any excellence specifically visual.
Aesthetically related, yet distinct, are “tableaux”, in which some striking, static, visualization sends a sight, or a passage describing it, suddenly forth from its otherwise prosaic context.
[Morphological footnote, for lexicophiles: The English noun tableau is borrowed from French, and retains the Gallic spelling, its plural in -x, and the oxytone pronunciation. In French, tableau is formally a diminutive of table, though its current semantics does not reflect that origin, and indeed tableau itself admits a further, double diminutive: tabl-eau-tin.]
But what lies specifically behind the selections that shall appear here so labeled, is the use of tableau as a one-word exclamation -- the rough equivalent of framing the scene with your fingers, displayed as cater-corner right-triangles. This use is perhaps commoner in French than in English; in any case, Harrap’s French-to-English dictionary explicitly recognizes the idiom:
Hier on l’a surprise assise sur les genoux du chauffeur; tableau!
Yesterday she was caught sitting on the chauffeur’s knee; tableau!
As a plain noun, rather than a holophrastic exclamation, this particular sense of a visually frozen, striking moment, is also denoted tableau-vivant (French pl. tableaux-vivants), literally a ‘living picture’.
An example, with picture-frame supplied:
She’d disappeared into the building, and a few seconds later yellow light awakened the second floor, spilling through gaps between the shutters. Her silhouette, disconcertingly large and bulky in her abaya, moved from one side to another, adjusting the shutters, then disappearing.
-- I.S.Berry, The Peacock and the Sparrow (2023)
And, again graphically framed (describing an escape, in semi-darkness, through serpentine and unfamiliar subterranean passageways, from the secret police):
He teetered at the top of a landing, reeling a bit as he peered down into the dimness of a steep wooden stairway, which then went black as the door slammed shut behind them.
-- Dan Fesperman, Pariah (2025)
Another from a thriller -- an ominous sedan looms into view:
She saw the Bentley and hesitated, watering-can poised in midair, appearing every bit in the late morning light as if Renoir had captured her by surprise.
-- Elizabeth George, A Great Deliverance (1988)
Thus, in this case, a overt comparison to a painting.
For further examples of this toothsome micro-genre, try these:
https://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/search/label/tableau
(1) Wind & Wafting
Outside, the wind was loud, and there was a faint flow of thunder along the sound. …. The electric trains, men-carrying, were plunging home through the rain…
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925)
Wilson’s eyes turned out to the ashheaps,
where small grey clouds took on fantastic shape,
and scurried here and there
in the faint dawn wind.
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925)
(2) The Moon Too Illumines
The moon soaked with wet light
his tangled clothes upon the floor.
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925)
They were still under the white plum-tree
and their faces were touching
except for a pale thin ray of moonlight between.
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925)
They came to a place where there were no trees,
and the sidewalk was white with moonlight.
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925)
And, one from his earlier work:
while the moon
at its perennial labor of covering the bad complexion of the world,
showered its illicit honey
over the drowsy street.
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned (1922)
.
Aubades:
Dawn made itself felt
in a gathering whiteness
eastward over the river.
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned (1922)
tatters of night lingered,
diluted to blue
-- Cornell Woolrich, I Married a Dead Man (1948)
The sun bubbled up from the horizon,
and shone through the haze of floury dust
sighing down from the Sahara.
-- Neil Stephenson, The Confusion (2004)
Lights began to snap on
in bedrooms, then in kitchens.
In the growing lavender of daybreak, the carny took shape.
-- William Gresham, Nightmare Alley (1946)
Sérénades:
The long procession of lamps
on the beautiful street
was flaring in the clear red of the sunset
towards which it marched . . . . .
-- Wm Dean Howells, The Rise of Silas Lapham (1884-5)
a rich golden light clung to the leaves like batter
-- T. Coraghessan Boyle, World’s End (1987), p. 129
After the prophet
come the disciples;
after the disciples
comes the church;
and with the church
comes the hierarchy.
-- Max Eastman, Love and Revolution (1964)
For a recap of that progression in the epic cases of Freud and of Chomsky, together with personal recollections of the towering Romance Philologist, Yakov Malkiel, see:
=> https://worldofdrjustice.blogspot.com/2013/02/chomsky-freud-and-problem-of-acolytes.html
It was one of those chilly and empty afternoons
in early winter,
when the daylight is silver
rather than gold,
and pewter rather than silver.
-- G.K. Chesterton, “God of the Gongs” (1914)
~ ~ ~
People were wearing
lace shawls of snowflakes.
A low dark cloud was sitting there,
thinking of some way
to unload snow over the city.
-- Len Deighton, Funeral in Berlin (1964)
Snipe / zip:
The snipe zip away over the frozen bogs
into a sky of Neapolitan enamel.
-- V.S. Pritchett, The Living Novel (1946)
Departing speedboat:
They would skim and turn far off,
tantalizing small shapes
on the shiny silky sea.
-- Pamela Frankau, “The Duchess and the Smugs”
The sunlight played through the leaves
on that little party of three generations
grouped tranquilly under the pear-tree,
which had long borne no fruit.
-- John Galsworthy, The Man of Property (1906)
The little garden had fallen into shade,
the sun now only reached the wall,
whereon basked a crouching cat.
-- ibid
the pear-tree, with its
top
branches
still gilded by the sun …
-- ibid
Love is no hot-house flower,
but a wild plant,
born of a wet night.
A wild plant that,
when it blooms within the hedge of our gardens,
we call a flower;
and when it blooms outside
we call a weed.
-- ibid
for the swarming stars
the night sky
had hardly space.
-- ibid
The glow died
above the river;
the singing ceased.
The young moon hid
behind a tree,
and all was dark.
-- ibid
Along the pathway of sky
between the hedges of the tree-tops,
the stars clustered forth.
-- ibid
The fog was worse than ever --
crowned with the weird excrescence of the driver,
haloed by a vague glow of lamp-light
that seemed to drown in vapour
before it reached the pavement…
-- ibid
On Irene’s face, a smile wandered up,
and died out
like a flicker of firelight.
-- ibid
The wind had got into the sou’west, too --
a delicious air, sappy!
-- ibid
Home itself
was but another bead
in the long rosary
of his regrets.
-- Charles Dickens, Barnaby Rudge, (1841)
The sun went down,
and night came on,
and he was still
quite tranquil.
-- ibid
He looked back, once, before he left the street:
a sight not easily to be erased,
even from his remembrance,
so long as he had life.
-- ibid
every light shadow
thrown by the passing clouds
upon the daisied ground.
-- ibid
the cat sat moping
on the ashy forge
-- ibid
as day deepened into evening,
and darkness crept into the nooks.
-- ibid
a wan sun
appeared
in the gray sky
-- Janet Malcolm,
From gaol:
Outside,
the day may be blue and gold,
but the light that creeps down
through the thickly muffled glass
of the small iron-barred window
beneath which one sits,
is grey and niggard.
It is always twilight in one’s cell.
-- Oscar Wilde, De Profundis (1897)
The Reading Room of the British Museum:
Some of the fog had seeped into the great domed space, increasing the gloom, so that the desk lamps seemed like so many street lamps in a miniature city of crecents and circuses as he prowled in search of Amber.
… gaslamps, each with a halo of irradiated fog.
-- David Lodge, A Man of Parts (2011), p. 241-3
Atom-bomb test:
A hundred-times-sun-sized sun
mottled itself with lesser whiteness,
bulked up,
became the perfect sphere…
Tumors of light more brilliant than the sun
sprang up on the mathematical sphere;
yet these, less blazing than the fireball,
appeared as blacknesses.
-- Philip Wylie, “The Answer”
Transmitted light:
He talked on,
raising and lowering his glass
to admire the light through it ..
-- James Gould Cozzens, Ask Me Tomorrow (1940), ch.5
light
sliced
through thinning trees.
--- Edmund Morris, Theodore Rex (2001)
The sun was beaming through the window
in bright squares
-- Zona Gale, “Bill’s Little Girl”
-------
Probing light:
The sun was pouring in,
creeping in stealthily-lengthening squares
across his desk.
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The I.O.U.” (1920)
The cell door opened and
blinding bars of light
burst in …
-- David McCloskey, Damascus Station (2021)
Now and then a searchlight
fingered the bellies of the clouds
-- James Jones, From Here to Eternity (1951)
the shining spring morning
-- Irwin Shaw, The Young Lions (1948)
this peachy morning-light
makes your face more radiant
than any flower,
and more succulent
than any fruit …
-- Neil Stephenson, The System of the World (2004)
We try, when we wake,
to lay the new day
at God’s feet . . .
-- C.S.Lewis, The Problem of Pain (1940)
the ticking no-noise
of the night
-- Robert Penn Warren, All the King’s Men (1946)