Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Dunce Row

 

Now as I was young and under the rod of my pa:

About the living things on the flight as the crow was black

Brazen in their feathery gown

Taunts in their glance darkling

Over my dog ear’d workbooks about,

Felt I then as sorriest fool ever called to learn

My wings denuded and robbed of all their worth,

To scan lines that trotted like donkey cart to town;

Even scavenging birds held promise under rolling skies

They felt wind in their downy tufts and carried

About as learned lords masters and guardians of horizon

To whichever direction turned found they satisfaction.

But the promising smell of kitchen and what my ma

Would add as extra for my scholarship worked over:

My muscles heaved in unison, Heave ho! Heave ho-

My ears shut, and eyes fell to by a higher command

Over pages as bloodhound, no dillydallying,

No shirking I did it one fell swoop over the row of figures

And set the mystery to nought and I earned my prize:

An extra helping.

Benny

The Original is here below:

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace,

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

 

Read Full Post »

Background:

A 22-year-old man has pleaded guilty to intentionally setting fire to three African-American churches in the US state of Louisiana./Holden Matthews, 22, admitted to starting the fires to raise his profile as a “black metal” musician, prosecutors said./ He burned three Baptist churches in the Opelousas area over 10 days beginning in late March 2019-BBC news

Black metal unplugged

sent Holden raise his profile:

Burn burn burn baby!

Read Full Post »

Global warming takes

Race war new level: new black

is orange alt-right.

Benny

Read Full Post »

Is my purple heart

Badge of shame in age of fraud?

Last trump for the dead.

Benny

Read Full Post »

 

O Drone you are down!

Like albatross You



Are shot down the sky-



In the silent hour

Hell keeps no account 



Of shame and glee:



When fools walk around flee

-

O Drone you are down!

Benny

Read Full Post »

Stroll down the colonnade of life, mosaic
Of days lend youth its Byzantine color;
But my soul would loath it as life prosaic. 12

Thus assail’d by doubts and misspent choler
Of youth as ashes when fire has died out
Of his blood, and leave nothing but pother: 15

By the midst o’ my woeful days I struck out
Past my depths, my route on impulse ringed
My soul might yet redeem entire past rout. 18

A walk simple into the woods where hope winged
Alternate with pitfalls along the ground
must give man pause, his purpose unhinged 21

Perhaps my soul would read my tracks and sound
Alarm or set escape route in case of need
Oh no! with my own will I come this round. 24

Long onslaught with Fates and Furies’ full rede
Did unravel much of my confusion,
And yet loath I was let my soul aside. 27

Benny

Read Full Post »

In a quatrain two ideas are set,- each line having 10 syllables and it follows a rhyme sequence. Poetic conventions are like a bowl into which ideas parallel or antithetical are poured. It has internal truth.
For example here we have a well known quatrain of Omar Khayyam:

One Moment in Annihilation’s Waste,
One moment, of the Well of Life to taste-
The stars are setting and the Caravan
Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!

Idea of life a journey setting up camp during the harsh day and the idea of breaking it up when coolness of the evening sets in, are all too familiar for the desert dwellers. These two familiar halves are part of human condition but what they recall to mind is the transience of it.

Two ideas complement one another and lead the reader to understand where their juxtaposition is leading to. The quatrain has internal logic or truth. Their familiar circumstances lead us to truth, meaning that the ideas transcend themselves to accept transience of life as true.

Internal truth speaks only for art and literature of man. Now let us discuss this from another literary genre, the world of fairy tales. Remember the gratuitous line almost without exception tacked at the end of a story, ‘and they lived happily ever after’? The heroine in the Frog Prince by kissing the hapless prince under a curse sets him free and they are married. Happily ever after? In reality the prince after decades of married life could prove to be an oaf but then a fairy tale like The Frog Prince is concerned with internal truth and nothing else. Truth of their marriage had Leo Tolstoy treated would be run on similar lines as Anna Karenina.

(This is a companion piece to God of Small sensations)
Benny

Read Full Post »

A walk to the park
in a drizzle unhurried,
Oh, the heave about my throat
is gone.
And the asphalt gleams with desire-
My feet may slosh through
A puddle or two,-never mind
But autumn is at my feet:
The greens are gold and
Red flushed with fleeting clouds
Overhead.
Intimations
Of winter tousle my hair
Even as geese glides to their tryst,
Silent before a world gone to sleep.
Benny

Read Full Post »

Where shall my excess baggage go
When death sends my spirit as such
On a carousal beyond farthest reach?

My spirit has its sphinx-like riddle:
Never shall my lips tattletale carry,
My soul shall have his will.

No matter something of vision I leave
placid lakes mirror rolling face of heaven
It is as though I have come unbidden;

Well seek not where wind blows leaves
Plucked out of its nest by violence:
Consider it as though in remembrance
Done for one for whom death came by chance.

Benny

Read Full Post »

“Over the past year I’ve learned

Some ends don’t have endings.

Some empty space will never be filled.

Sometimes your hands intertwine perfectly,

But your minds just don’t.”

Emma-Lidewij (selected from Chaos & Catastrophe ©)

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »