Re: MD Poetic Quality

From: Mark Steven Heyman (markheyman@infoproconsulting.com)
Date: Fri Oct 22 2004 - 16:32:19 BST

  • Next message: Platt Holden: "MD Biocosm"

    Hi all,

    Here are the results, so far, of the Poetry Showdown. Jain broke the
    tie with her vote for "Sad Steps" but I tied it up again with my vote
    for "Anniversary."

    So.... I guess maybe the Quality level is just too close to call?
    But maybe more votes will come in as some of the less regular listers
    check their mail.

    The results and comments are collected below, and the poems are
    pasted at the end, for reference.

    Thanks to all. Poetry's important to me, and I enjoyed your comments
    very much.

    Best,
    msh

    joe:
    I liked the Anniversary of My Death. It spoke to me.

    arlo:
    I would choose #1 [Anniversary]. In some ways, mostly in spirit, it
    reminds me of Goethe's Prolog in Faust (albeit somewhat shorter).

    ... it pulled me into an emotive state deeper and more "still" than
    the second (partially, perhaps, because it sounds less oratory and
    more personal).

    msh:
    As I said I really like both poems. I give a slight nod to
    "Anniversary" It's a poem I memorized years ago and have recited
    countless times to friends and family, at every occasion, which is
    one reason I'm not invited over any more, I'm sure. To my surprise,
    the version in my memory has an extra "what" in the last line:

            And bowing not knowing what to what

    I like the idea behind the poem, you know, there's a day we'll die,
    we just don't know what day it is, and slip past it every year. The
    last fires waving and the silence setting out... Like Joe said, it
    speaks to me.

    Sad Steps is one of my favorites, and I love the trademark Larkin
    irony, but I've always been slightly uncomfortable with the
    parenthetical line

    (Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)

    because it's one of the rare times you'll hear Larkin stretching to
    meet the form, continuing the "blow" from above and anticipating the
    "No" below. But this is a minor weakness in a fine poem, IMO, of
    course.

    jim:
    Took a couple of reads, but #2 [Sad Steps].

    I think it's the ironic sentiment. #1 is a bit too winsome for me.
    I.e #2 encomapsses more: because of its nod and wink to the ribald
    seems more sincere. There seems to have been more lost.

    jain:
    - I love Sad Steps.
      Vivid imagery, wonderful unexpected rhythms, lots of room to move
    around in, and a mood that sneaks up on you, gradually, rather than
    repeated throughout as in Anniversary....

    sam:
    I prefer the second, [Sad Steps] although I like both. I find the
    second more bodily, and more humourous, hence easier to identify
    with, not least its first line, which is so refreshing and basic.

    platt abstains:
    My sense of quality finds both poems very low quality, especially
    when compared to:

    Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
    All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.

    THE POEMS

    For the Anniversary of My Death

    Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
    When the last fires will wave to me
    And the silence will set out
    Tireless traveller
    Like the beam of a lightless star

    Then I will no longer
    Find myself in life as in a strange garment
    Surprised at the earth
    And the love of one woman
    And the shamelessness of men
    As today writing after three days of rain
    Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
    And bowing not knowing to what

    Sad Steps

    Groping back to bed after a piss
    I part the thick curtains, and am startled by
    The rapid clouds, the moon's cleanliness.

    Four o'clock: wedge-shaped gardens lie
    Under a cavernous, a wind-pierced sky.
    There's something laughable about this,

    The way the moon dashes through the clouds that blow
    Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart
    (Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)

    High and preposterous and separate--
    Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!
    O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,

    One shivers slightly, looking up there.
    The hardness and the brightness and the plain
    Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare

    Is a reminder of the strength and pain
    Of being young; that it can't come again,
    But is for others undiminished somewhere.

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