Poetry Thread

[rhysaurus]

> I have never seen any sign of Des wanting his ego massaged...

Thanks Marion for that great joke!

[des2]

I don't understand what Rhys means by that.
But please let's drop it and get on with poems!
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CERN ZOO

[rhysaurus]

Come on, how about having some integrity just for once?
Moral cowardice is even worse than egotism.
Des, you are one of the biggest egotists around, at least as big an egotist as I am!
Just admit it and have done with it, for fuck's sake!

I'm only saying out loud what everyone says in private.
That's my real fault, I guess.

[des2]

Ok.
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CERN ZOO

[Bob Lock]

Right, back to poems. I like this one, and it rhymes...oh no!

http://www.heise.de/ix/raven/Literature/Lore/TheRaven.html
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My Blog: http://bob-lock.blogspot.com/

Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/bob_lock

Debut novel site: http://www.flamesofherakleitos.com/

[des2]

That's what I call an incantatory poem, Bob. Always loved it. That and 'The Bells', those brazen bells, hear them knell, knell.,,,
des
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CERN ZOO

[Marion Arnott]

I was terrified of that poem when I was young! It's still pretty scary - 'Never more!' SHUDDER!
here's another shuddery one:

THE TWA CORBIES (The Two Crows)

As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
'Where sall we gang and dine to-day,
Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'

'In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair,
His hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

'His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady 'a ta'en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet,
We may mak our dinner sweet.

'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare,
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.'

'Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane;
Oer his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sail blaw for evennair,
The wind sail blaw for evennair.'

[des2]

My Sad Captains
by Thom Gunn

One by one they appear in
the darkness: a few friends, and
a few with historical
names. How late they start to shine!
but before they fade they stand
perfectly embodied, all

the past lapping them like a
cloak of chaos. They were men
who, I thought, lived only to
renew the wasteful force they
spent with each hot convulsion.
They remind me, distant now.

True, they are not at rest yet,
but now they are indeed
apart, winnowed from failures,
they withdraw to an orbit
and turn with disinterested
hard energy, like the stars.


========
Blog entry about 'ego massage':
http://cwgpress.com/joomla080806/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=84
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CERN ZOO

[des2]

Now back from the diary room, I note that, in all the excitement, I missed Paul Raven's comments, with which I agree, ie.:

I'd not claim to be an expert, but as far as I can tell it's not rhyming per se that is looked down upon, rather poems where the metre and rhyme combine into something that sounds trite and nursery-rhyme-like. Strong use of line endings can make the rhymes more subtle, as can feminine endings and eye-rhyme. I think the disapproval of rhyme comes from the 'love/dove/glove' school of bad pop-music lyrics.

Also, apologies to Thom Gunn (1929 - 2004) if I should not have reproduced his whole poem on this thread. I hope it goes to advertise his work which I reommend in general. I shall pay for reproducing it here, if asked, or give something to charity, if not asked.

Today someone left this on my MySpace:

Happy April Fools Day!

"This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet. He begins at curfew,
and walks till the first cock. He gives the web and the pin,
squints the eye, and makes the harelip; mildews the white wheat,
and hurts the poor creature of earth".

King Lear
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CERN ZOO

[des2]

Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost
Her snow-white robes, and now no more the frost
Candies the grass, or casts an icy cream
Upon the silver lake or crystal stream;
But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth,
And makes it tender; gives a sacred birth
To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree
The drowsy cuckoo and the humble-bee.
Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring
In triumph to the world the youthful spring.
- Thomas Carew, The Spring, 1630
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CERN ZOO

[CAL]

If it’s death and inevitable darkness you’re after (in defiance of Carew), you can’t go very far past James Thomson’s 'The City of Dreadful Night'. A long but poignant aching of Reason from the mortal depths of the abyss. And it rhymes too...

http://vasthead.com/Thomson/city_night.html

[des2]

I read that James Thomson poem many years ago (when a callow youth) - thanks for reminding me.

Which has reminded me of this:
http://www.litgothic.com/Texts/haunted_house.html

The Haunted House by Thomas Hood (1799 - 1845) - I've got it in an ancient book - illustrated!. Didn't think I would be able to find such a rarity on teh Internet.

A magnificent poem,
.
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CERN ZOO

[CAL]

Yes, I agree, it’s beautiful. Nice site too, thanks for the link. It looks familiar – I’m sure I’ve been there before, when I was looking for a copy of “Varney the Vampire” (but ended up with an e-book copy of this from somewhere else).

Interesting that you mentioned having the poem in print. I once went out of my way to get hold of an old edition of Swinburne’s “Tristram of Lyonesse”, when I could easily have printed it off from the internet. Now, especially with the Amazon reseller system, it’s much easier to get hold of OoP editions, if you’re willing to pay for them. Personally, I’d rather own a bound edition than just have a print or bookmarked page off the internet (though I'm happy to read either). Am I just being old fashioned?

[Marion Arnott]

[Marion Arnott]