Biographical information relative to William Pitt Head poetry

Most of his poetry came from his life experiences.  Born in Alabama, he moved around a lot.
His father managed movie theaters in small towns and his mother was a nurse.  He was the
only child so had to go to the movies, especially when his mother worked double shifts during
World War II.  He was a storehouse of movie trivia.  As an only child, he was also aware of
what the adults around him were doing and gossiping about.

Many of his poems centered around his family and other people he knew.  When I met him, he told
me he was the black sheep in his family because of his stand on civil rights in college.

.Both of his parents had died by the time that I met him, but I later had the opportunity to meet his
aunts, uncles, and cousins when we moved  back to Alabama.  I believe that he wanted to be near his
family even if they thought he had not lived up to the promise of his early days.

I looked for some poems that he had written about civil rights and could find only one or two relative to the
subject.  One of these is entitled "Gene" and is about a relative in the Alabama National Guard which had to
surround an African-American church during the freedom rides.   Another poem is called "Slave Ships"
which I found today.   I am not certain what it means.

Many of his poems are about his family and his memories of the past.  As both of my parents are now
deceased, I am now better able to relate to them.  There is a sadness about much of his poetry, but at times
he had a rare sense of humor.

Several years ago, I became aware that William Head had been featured in a book on civil rights
written by Robert Zoellner, who was also a student at Huntingdon, as a member of the
"Huntingdon Five".   This helped me to understand him better.

Cheryl Foust Head

  

The Book of Life

"Teen" (poem about his cousin who died August, 2011)

The Ones Who Went Before- By William Pitt Head

We are drawn to the ones who went before
And to an identical fate only made ours
By some indelible personal trait, a choice
We make that like a birthmark signifies.

Our lids are heavy with sentiment, eyes
Longing to close on dreams which wait
Only imprimatur of unique lore
To make fabulous the solitary life.

Our dreams are linked with theirs
(We were the dreams and they now ours)
And the passage of time drowses
Until, at death, time (and we) stand still

While a mother watches her child
Watching her mother we all watch
The merry-go-round whirl, shine, slow,
Subside in the loss of its own going.

(Lord, how we love the resonance,
Lord, how we loved the ride.)

To Keep The Cold Wind Away

Lest we forget we must remember
Christmases past so that Christmas present.
Which will fade as quickly as the rest,
May retrieve for us some lasting values
And recall the seasons when we had
Little abundance save love to receive
And give. Thoses were the days
Along the way we have had escape us
Not only sentimentality but sentiment
As well. We may sing Noel, Noel,
But what does it mean to us?
Folk who knew the meaning of its verses
Are long since gone; in other regions
Than our own they sleep
And if we dream how can we keep
Their uneasy spirits away from us?
Why would we if we could? Their traces
Are our souvenirs of better limes.
Better people, better places
Than these shallow graves
We live in not always, not for long
Not for long we resist temptations
To bring to bear upon our hearts the need
Of fervent re-dedication and wish
That from out of the past
Those who are missing might re-appear
And teach us their truth in lessons
We still find hard to learn
Have we lost charm and innocence
Forever? Will kindness never come again?
And what of grace? We know it once more
Touches us when ghosts we knew
We now reminisce about. Peace
And mercy flow from meek and merry
Children. We were child-like long ago
Perhaps what we celebrate this time of year
Is the birth of children. We are not wisemen.
We come and go. But the birth of children
Is always with us, always stays. It may be
That those parents and relatives we wish
Might gleam again in their after-glow
Are delivering to us a Christmas message
Christ's birth is to us as it was to them
A treasure we all can share through distancing,
And, although every light grows dim, goes out,
His star shines forth in continual brightest blessing.
In the darkest time of year He came
And in the singing of his name we hear voices
Of those held dear, even ever after - - -
We first heard sounds of children's laughter.

Haiku (Halloween)

Pumpkins carved with knives
Must have frightening faces
To scare ghosts away.

Bill, Hillary, Monica, and the Rest

When affairs of Church
Finally mix adultery
With affairs of State
And the two agree mot to separate
No one will be safe
From the combination
Of religion with politics.
A Holy War will be declared
And ploughshares be beaten
Into swords. Methodists
With aplomb will swoop down upon
and bomb the Baptists so as
To obliterate. Baptists could choose
T use Uzis to strafe
Their enemies. Catholics could
Accrue weapons of mass destruction.
Presbyterians could make certain
Of the predestination, by grenades,
Of other denominations