Dormant Poet's Society
Ah! unrequited love, life is full of it Andrew.
Here is my offering for the week. The poet is homesick for the tropics but I wonder
is there a play on words here. Jasmine? a flower? a sweetheart?
"Jasmine" by Claude McKay
Your sweet scent is in the room.
Swiftly it overwhelms and conquers me!
Jasmine, night jasmine, perfect of perfume,
Heavy with dew before the dawn of day!
Your face was in the mirror. I could see
You smile and vanish suddenly away,
Leaving behind the vestige of a tear.
Sad suffering face, from parting grown so dear!
Night jasmine cannot bloom in this cold place;
Without the street is wet and weird with snow;
The cold nude trees are tossing to and fro;
Too stormy is the night for your fond face;
For your low voice too loud the wind's mad roar.
But oh, your sweet scent is here-jasmines that grow
Luxuriant, clustered round your cottage door!
Lorine, that is just beautiful - beautiful. The sense of smell evokes memory and nostalgia - I can smell this rich and bittersweet poem. Thank you.
POEM NO. 2
One of my favourite poetesses (blame the Student's Companion!) is Christina Rossetti. She has written many meaningful, mature poems but she also has some delightful children's verse of which this is an example. This poem is ideal for children to recite as the subject of colours is simple and popular with young minds, it involves repetition of similar words and the rhyme is easy to follow. The final line is also quite clever and can almost be delivered on a note of triumph.
WHAT IS PINK?
What is pink? a rose is pink
By the fountain's brink.
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float thro'
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? why, an orange,
Just an orange!
CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
Andrew - What imagery I can imagine this poem sparking the imagination of young minds. Wonderful!
Here is my offering 'William Wordsworth'
I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending ine
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such jocund company:
I gazed-and gazed- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils,
Thanks Gillian, 'Daffodils' is a beautiful poem and is ranked No.1 in Classic FM's book 'One Hundred Favourite Poems'.
POEM NO. 3
Ranked No. 10 by Classic FM, this poem is wonderful to recite with its sharp imagery and crisp phrases so descriptive of the excitement of seafaring. The poem reads beautifully and is constucted in such a way that one seems to set off on a long sail at the start and then at last to return home in the last line. When I read it I can almost smell the tang of the sea.
SEA FEVER
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the
sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white
sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn
breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running
tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the
sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's
like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's
over.
JOHN MASEFIELD
I've really enjoyed reading these poems, here's one that I discovered years ago, and have always loved...
- Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven -
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
- William Butler Yeats -
POEM NO 4
The beauty of this simple poem is that its outrageous punchline remains hidden to the very last word! Apart from being funny it declares a serious and fundamental truth about God's kingdom, which is that although Man looks at appearance God judges the heart. (scripture ref?). Speaking as one who sometimes makes mistakes and unwittingly disappoints the people around me, this is a great comfort.
I DREAMED
I dreamt death came to me last night,
And heaven's gate swung wide.
With kindly grace an angel came
And ushered me inside.
And there to my astonishment
Stood folks I'd known on earth;
Some I had judged as quite unfit
And some of little worth.
Indignant words rose to my lips,
But never were set free,
For every face showed stunned surprise --
No-one expected me!
- Anonymous -
This is a good poem Andrew and a good reminder of our false perceptions of ourselves and others.
I also love George Herbert's 'Love bade me welcome' which comfortingly reminds me that it is only by God's grace and merciful love that any of us can enter heaven, but we need the humility to receive it.
LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack'd anything.
'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here:'
Love said, 'You shall be he.'
'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on Thee.'
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
'Who made the eyes but I?'
'Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.'
'And know you not,' says Love, 'Who bore the blame?'
'My dear, then I will serve.'
'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.'
So I did sit and eat.
POEM NO. 5
Attention all cat and dog lovers! This short piece is by one of my favourite poets and is an extract from an extremely long poem called 'The Owl'. Being something of a philosopher, I have always preferred cats to dogs, as I think that unlike dogs, which are impossible to ignore, cats dispense their affection sparingly, allowing you your own space to mull over things under their serene and condescending gaze. The poem has wonderful images, in particular the last line.
from THE OWL
....."I dote on cats," the wanton said.
"Dogs grovel and cringe at every nod;
Making of Man a kind of god!
Beat them or starve them, as you choose,
They crawl to you, whining, and lick your shoes.
Cats know their comfort, drowse and play,
And, when the dark comes, steal away--
Wild to the wild. Make them obey!
As soon make water run uphill....
WALTER DE LA MARE
The Owl is almost 'Ancient Mariner' length, and is a poignant story about a Christ-like beggar who comes to an inn asking merely for 'a crust of bread'. The 'wanton' is the innkeeper's proud daughter who feels uncharacteristically insecure in the beggar's presence.
POEM NO. 6
G.K Chesterton is probably best known for his Father Brown mystery novels. He was also an accomplished Christian writer, with 'Orthodoxy' being his most famous work. The excellence of this poem lies in its imagery and in the refining in the last line of one of the most inelegant of creatures into the ranks of the noble and priviledged.
THE DONKEY
When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn.
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.
With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I too had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet
-- G.K. Chesterton --
Thanks everyone for posting your poems and to Andrew for reminding me of the Masefield poem about the sea. Here is one by John Betjeman which we used at my Mum's funeral last year; we had enjoyed many seaside holidays in North Wales. The mention of glass pulls me up and reminds me that our broken world is all part of the picture, no matter where we are.
A Bay in Anglesey
The sleepy sound of a tea-time tide
Slaps at the rocks the sun has dried,
Too lazy, almost, to sink and lift
Round low peninsulas pink with thrift.
The water, enlarging shells and sand,
Grows greener emerald out from land
And brown over shadowy shelves below
The waving forests of seaweed show.
Here at my feet in the short cliff grass
Are shells, dried bladderwrack, broken glass,
Pale blue squills and yellow rock roses,
The next low ridge that we climb discloses
One more field for the sheep to graze
While, scarcely seen on this hottest of days,
Far to the eastward, over there,
Snowdon rises in pearl-grey air.
Multiple lark-song, whispering bents,
The thymy, turfy and salty scents
And filling in, brimming in, sparkling and free
The sweet susurration of incoming sea.
A beautiful poem Carol 342. Its as though I am there in the Bay enjoying the sights and hearing the sound of the waves against the rocks! Thank you.
This is probably my favourite romantic poem. I particularly like it because it speaks of the harmony there is in God's creation, how there is blending of the elements. The writer is wooing his chosen bride (to be?) with these romantic truths because he wants to be at one with her. It's by Byron:
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the Ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?
An excerpt from a powerful work of Ezra Pound, one of the founders of the aesthetic in modern poetry and of whom T.S Eliot's The Wasteland is dedicated
Fortitude as never before
Frankness as never before
disillusions as never told in the old days,
hysterias, trench confessions,
laughter out of dead bellies
They died a myriad
And of the best, among them,
For an old bitch gone in the teeth,
for a botched civilization,
Charm, smiling at the good mouth,
Quick eyes gone under earths lid,
For two gross of broken statues,
for a few thousand battered books.
POEM NO. 1
Many years ago I started this on my college noticeboard. Every 5 / 7 days I shall post a poem, explaining why I have chosen it. Poems will cover as wide a range of subjects, styles and authors as possible so as to introduce the uninitiated into the wonders of verse. I encourage those interested to also post contributions and/or commnents on the current poem. I shall start with one which is self-explanatory.
FRUSTRATION
She who is always in my thoughts prefers
Another man, and does not think of me.
Yet he seeks for another's love, not hers;
And some poor girl is grieving for my sake.
Why then, the devil take
Both her and him; and love; and her; and me.
ANON
How succinctly put!