Take Heed, ‘Cause I’m A Lyrical Poet

I attended two events at Wordfeast last week, in an attempt to haul myself back onto the poetry wagon. One was a poetry slam competition, and the other was a conventional reading.

I wish I could enthuse about how they rekindled my poetic mojo, and how I will be bounding up to mics in the future to spreadeagle my words for the world, but I unfortunately find myself in the bollockless position of having mixed reactions to it all.

My first problem is that I was quite often very bored. Look, I know this probably crosses some poetry-writers’ solidarity line in the sand, but a lot of poetry can just be boring when read out loud, even if it works well enough on the page. This is especially so when the poem is long and the voice is monotonous. I don’t care if it’s recognized some day as the Paradise Lost of 2003, I’m still going to have to say my first experience with it was far from edifying.

My second is that I was quite often very frustrated. A lot of poems that sounded like I could have enjoyed them were so badly delivered by their authors as to render them a waste of breath. I know it can’t be helped that not all good poets are good performers. And I’m not insisting the whisperers, mumblers, droners and mic-dummies of this world be barred from reading their own poetry out loud. I’m just pointing out that with some practice in the relevant skills, or alternatively roping in a competent friend to do it for you, the jump in appreciation for the listener can be so significant as to make it well worth considering if you want your presence there to be even worthwhile. The most transcendental experience I have ever had with a poetry reading was in the shabby basement of my hall of residence in London, where my hallmate James read Seamus Heaney’s Death Of A Naturalist so evocatively that for a moment I almost truly believed myself to be surrounded by vengeful frogs.

My third problem is that in response to the now-obvious heckle of “Well why don’t you go on up and show everyone how to do it properly then, smartass?” I must admit that although I think I’m all right at reading poems out loud, I think my own stuff is decidedly mediocre. So I’m not quite ready to assume the mantle of Poetry Reading Saviour of Singapore either.

My fourth problem is that every time I get bored, I am consumed by the urge to go up there and recite Ice Ice Baby with great feeling. I held back at Wordfeast because I felt it would be fairly rude to consciously lower the tone of the event, and also because it might be seen as poking fun at some of the less successful attempts at rhyming poems. But some day I fear it will overcome me.

Poem: Exhaustion (Elton Glaser)

I lie down in the Dark Ages, another night deficient in ecstasy.
I’m tired of the old laws and the new laws and the laws they’ve been thinking up
     between breakfast and delirium.
(……)
I’m not feeling world-historical tonight, though I can still smell the stench of a
     rotten hypothesis, like eggheads left out too long in the sun.
My mind’s one wrinkle away from ravenous black

Linda Pastan

Today at The Writer’s Almanac:

I want to write you
a love poem as headlong
as our creek
after thaw
– from love poem (Linda Pastan)

I went looking for more, found this and thought it very apt:

And the words are so familiar,
so strangely new, words
you almost wrote yourself, if only
– from A New Poet (Linda Pastan)

Very nice. I’ve added her Selected Poems to my wishlist.

Filler

Despite having to study an entire Master’s course worth of intellectual property law, mostly from scratch, in five days, I am trying to keep calm. Grooving to mixes from Manitoba and Akufen on The Breezeblock. Splitting my sides at Rent-A-Negro (and revisiting Black People Love Us just to read the stupid people on the letters page who take it all seriously again). Marvelling at this unbearable furriness of being (link found at meish.org). Marking favourite Margaret Atwood poems with paper clips in my book to see if I can find some of them for you online – More and More was all I could find.

I’m gagging for Thursday to come and the exams to finally end, so I can write properly again instead of all this linking, gosh durn it. I’ve never really found blogs that just link you elsewhere particularly interesting, and am rather frustrated that lately this seems to have become one. But any actual writing I might have done would have been brimming over with I-miss-London angst of the “There’s an ad on TV that features London. I miss London. I’m reading the newspapers about the blackout in London. I miss London. I’m watching BBC World and the newsreader has an English accent. I miss hearing the English accent. Whine whine whine!” variety anyway, so count yourselves lucky. When the exams are over I promise to seek a replacement life.

Billy Collins

I love finding new (new to me, anyway) poets to explore. Last week’s Saturday Poem(s) in the Guardian Review were by Billy Collins. Today seems to be about most of the days we’ve been having lately, if you ignore the biting cold that strangely crept in with the sunbeams in the past two.

I went looking for more, and ended up with quite a haul. Introduction To Poetry and Dear Reader seem like good ones to start with.

Man Listening To Disc and Marginalia are creepily accurate portrayals of aspects of my two main preoccupations.

Japan is beautifully erotic. Picnic, Lightning is about those sudden moments of clarity that elevate the mundane to the meaningful, and is also incidentally hosted on Nabokovilia, a pretty cool site that collects and explains Nabokov references in other literary works.

(If anyone wants to buy me The Annotated Lolita, please feel free. If not, then please buy it for yourself, it’s fantastic. In related news, I’m currently marvelling my way through The Real Life Of Sebastian Knight, which, though not even ranked among Nabokov’s better books, still beats almost everything else I’ve read recently hands down.)

Philip Appleman

A few hours before the bombing started, Garrison Keillor read Philip Appleman’s poem Last-Minute Message For A Time Capsule on National Public Radio. I’ve had a number of poems by Philip Appleman on this site for quite a while, and instead of suing me for copyright infringement as he has every right to, he was kind enough to email me this poem himself. His New And Selected Poems is pretty much impossible to find in bookstores here and Amazon UK doesn’t even stock it, but if you like what you’ve read on this site, I highly recommend you try getting your hands on a copy.

Goodbye Barbados

Apologies for recent silence. After lovely weekends away (we went here and you must too!) one tends to come back to earth with a resounding kaboom.

I’m reading Jane Kenyon, and while the Malvern Hills are far from Barbados (literally, ha ha smack), and even though the student life I return to in my Bloomsbury flat in the heart of my beloved London is far from torturous, this stanza still struck a chord:

“Goodbye Barbados – goodbye water, hiss
and thunder; scented winds; clattering palms;
stupefying sun and rum; goodbye turquoise,
pink, copen, lavender, black and red.
Tonight another couple will sleep in our bed.”
– from Leaving Barbados, Jane Kenyon

Poems: Missing God (Dennis O’Driscoll), Sweetbread (Robert Wrigley)

The Saturday poem in the Guardian Review is one of those little weekly happy nuggets in the family-size bucket of happy that is the Saturday papers. I kept the page with Missing God (Dennis O’Driscoll), from December. It did occur to me that it could be found online, but there’s something about the dog-eared, raggedy-edged pages of newsprint that I’ve built up over my few years here that’s more appealing than liquid crystal displays.

Elsewhere in poetry, Sweetbread (Robert Wrigley) is most definitely the loveliest poem about offal I have ever read.

Various Selections From Poetry Daily

There is a bumper crop of beautiful words at Poetry Daily, which I disobediently visit only weekly, but which is almost always a veritable wellspring of names I’ve never heard of, writing words I wish I could write.

Some recent enjoyments:
Love (Aaron Fagan)
Bermuda (Billy Collins)
Gate C 22 (Ellen Bass)
Star (Danielle Dutton)