Like most inventors, Pound did not create out of the void. The “Image” he took from T. E. Hulme’s table talk. The “ism” was suggested to him by the notes on contemporary French poetry which I wrote for Harold Monro’s Poetry Review. The collacation of ‘image’ and ‘ism’ came to Pound after I had told him about Divoire’s essays on stratégie littéraire. — FS Flint. Source.
Eliot, Flint and Hulme and Pound together in the pub,
raised a glass and had a round. Hulme taught Pound about
the Image and Flint taught the ‘ism’ and to stratégie littéraire
a homage. The inspired Pound, pound his fist on the table
and sang: The poem is dead! Long live the new poem! Imagism!
In an elegy to prosidy he tipped his hat to the new facism
Lingering, pound for pound we buy the crypto of Ezra Pound
Sold on blind obeisance to so-called merits of imagism
where a poem is a description, an ekphrastic syllogism
We freeze the poet into still images scraped on paper
In a cold desperation not to tell, only show; snuffs our glow
The breeze of thoughts weave the image into a don’t tell
Show don’t tell let them draw their own conclusions
Round and round we argue the merits of the Imagism
Let fifth graders find their way through the maze of idealism
What a chasm we expect them to jump! Knee jerk tropism!
Don’t shoot the messenger reader, read the narrative
that developed into a story of a Pound of sophism
Air the poet like newly opened wine, before you dine
Show and tell; 80/20 will not stifle the voice of the poet
Where experience and insight hide and verity lies and doesn’t
Have to hide behind mob reaction to being told — to wear masks
To change the conduct of their tasks; why get vaccines they ask.
I don’t know if the virus came out of bats or a mishap at Wu Han labs
Now the world is a game of Russian Roulette and Chinese Craps.