Tuesday Poem
Apr. 13th, 2010 03:52 pmTuesday Poem now has its very own weblog, which I am really looking forward to following, and recommend to all of you out there who are into poetry (especially if you don't know New Zealand poetry very well, or conversely if you *do* know New Zealand poetry well, or contrariwise if you sort of know it but would like to know more.)
I managed to get one of my own out this week. Here it is.
Self-Portrait
It is 7:10.
I wake up.
I go, oh no.
My alarm is going to go. My alarm
is going to go. My alarm goes.
It is 7:13.
I turn over. At 8:01 am
I get up.
I go, oh no.
I go and have a shower. I turn the heat
right up.
It is 8:10.
I put cream on my face. Everything is fuzzy.
I pick my glasses up.
I go, oh no.
Nothing is fuzzy.
My time is up.
It is 8:30.
I go, oh no.
Right, so, this is sort of a villanelle. The villanelle is above and beyond my favourite form of poetry. The clever, sutble artistry of a successful villanelle delights me. You probably know Dylan Thomas' incredibly famous Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, which I like mostly for its relationship with a much less well-known villanelle, Villanelle, by Jenny Bornholdt, whose minor rhyme is the same as Thomas' major rhyme, and whose subject is similar (although I p3rsonally find Bornholdt's work a good deal more moving). The villanelle is an incredible format for writing about loss; in a villanelle, the subject matter that the writer and reader struggle to forget returns again and again against their will. Alternatively, the writer returns again and again to something they wish to preserve which nevertheless slips away. One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop, is another favourite; so is Sylvia Plath's Mad Girl's Love Song.
My one, I don't like it so much, but it's a big improvement on my previous attempts at the form! However, the poem didn't start out as a villanelle. In most respects I think this is a big improvement except one: I really liked a stanza in the earlier version that I failed to recreate. It went like this:
I still really like those lines and wish I could have gotten them into this version. Oh well, keep going, I guess! Happy Tuesday.
I managed to get one of my own out this week. Here it is.
Self-Portrait
It is 7:10.
I wake up.
I go, oh no.
My alarm is going to go. My alarm
is going to go. My alarm goes.
It is 7:13.
I turn over. At 8:01 am
I get up.
I go, oh no.
I go and have a shower. I turn the heat
right up.
It is 8:10.
I put cream on my face. Everything is fuzzy.
I pick my glasses up.
I go, oh no.
Nothing is fuzzy.
My time is up.
It is 8:30.
I go, oh no.
Right, so, this is sort of a villanelle. The villanelle is above and beyond my favourite form of poetry. The clever, sutble artistry of a successful villanelle delights me. You probably know Dylan Thomas' incredibly famous Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, which I like mostly for its relationship with a much less well-known villanelle, Villanelle, by Jenny Bornholdt, whose minor rhyme is the same as Thomas' major rhyme, and whose subject is similar (although I p3rsonally find Bornholdt's work a good deal more moving). The villanelle is an incredible format for writing about loss; in a villanelle, the subject matter that the writer and reader struggle to forget returns again and again against their will. Alternatively, the writer returns again and again to something they wish to preserve which nevertheless slips away. One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop, is another favourite; so is Sylvia Plath's Mad Girl's Love Song.
My one, I don't like it so much, but it's a big improvement on my previous attempts at the form! However, the poem didn't start out as a villanelle. In most respects I think this is a big improvement except one: I really liked a stanza in the earlier version that I failed to recreate. It went like this:
I go to my room and put cream on my face. Everything
is fuzzy. I put my glasses
on my face.
Nothing is fuzzy. I go, oh no.
I still really like those lines and wish I could have gotten them into this version. Oh well, keep going, I guess! Happy Tuesday.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-13 06:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-13 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-13 11:41 am (UTC)ANTARCTICA
(for Richard Ryan)
"I am just going outside, and may be some time."
The others nod, pretending not to know.
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
He leaves them reading and begins to climb,
Goading his ghost into the howling snow;
He is just going outside and may be some time.
The tent recedes beneath its crust of rime,
And frostbite is replaced by vertigo:
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
Need we consider it some sort of crime,
This numb self-sacrifice of the weakest? No,
He is just going outside and may be some time --
In fact, for ever. Solitary enzyme,
Though the night yield no glimmer there will glow,
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
He takes leave of the earthly pantomime
Quietly, knowing it is time to go.
"I am just going outside and may be some time."
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
Yours is deceptively clever. I wrote one once; the form was pretty much perfect, but the sentiment a bit naked. Might try again some day.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-13 11:44 pm (UTC)I find rhyming a huge struggle myself so writing in a form where rhymes are so prescribed I find almost impossible, but the effect is so good when got right that I'm going to keep trying until I get there!
no subject
Date: 2010-04-13 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-13 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-14 11:20 pm (UTC)Also, I am totally teaching 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night' to my year 12s, so thanks for the link to the Bornholdt because she is amazing and I wasn't aware of that poem.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-14 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-14 11:33 pm (UTC)It's going really well, although I have so much planning to do! And resources to create. And no worries re: drinks. We should catch up sometime though.