National Poetry Day 2010

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when all is said and done

what counts is having someone

you can phone at five to ask

for the immersion heater

to be switched to 'bath'

and the pizza taken from the deepfreeze

Dennis O'Driscoll

from Being Alive (Bloodaxe, ed Neil Astley)

Poetry Launch

On the writing course at Ty Newydd in July, I had the pleasure of meeting Shirley McClure and getting to know her and some of her work. The grand finale of the week was a celebration on the Friday night, when everyone took centre stage (one at a time!) and read some of their poems to the group. The atmosphere was jubilant and everyone's work was fantastic, I particularly loved Shirley's poetry and engaging style of presenting. 

She's currently launching her first collection and my copy arrived from Ireland yesterday. Needless to say, I read it from cover to cover last night, and so did my daughter who found it hard to put down. Shirley's launching the book in various places at the moment, so if you get the chance to go along and hear her reading, grab it! And I strongly recommend the collection which you can get via her website.

Follow this link to read two of the poems from the book and one other for good measure!

Poetry Saturday - Goes Round Comes Round

Saturday Poem today is Miniature Poodle by C. K. Williams. (Bringing the count so far this year to women 10, men 23). As I don't know this poet's work, I had a quick spin round the internet and found him on poets.org. I only had time to listen to one poem so I chose My Mother's Lips. His voice is lovely, I felt a connection and wanted to read more of his poems.

When out and about on my own, as I was this morning in Chester, I can't be trusted not to go into a bookshop. So predictably, I went into Waterstones, only for a look, you understand. 

Of course there was no harm in just popping upstairs for a peep at the poetry, to see what's what. And to see if there was anything by C. K. Williams, which there wasn't. 

Then my eye snagged on Don Paterson, who I have mixed feelings about. The first of his poems I ever met was Imperial in Ruth Padel's 52 Ways of Looking At A Poem. I really didn't like this poem, a bit clever-clever and macho, so I left DP alone for a while. Some time later I read Why Do You Stay Up So Late, which I found beautiful and very moving. I warmed to him when I read Rain, the collection that this poem comes from. 

So today I read the title poem from The Eyes - a collection of DP's versions (as opposed to translations) of  poems by Antonio Machado, and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. This made me think of Emily Dickinson's maxim that she knew what was poetry because of the sensation of the top of her head lifting off! 

Spurred on by this experience, I took a look at Landing Light, by now moving towards an inevitable purchase. What finally made me buy Landing Light was that I noticed in it DP's version of Rilke's poem which I featured here yesterday. I just took it as a sign. 

(Skimming through Ruth Padel's book when I started writing this post, I noticed that she analyses Harm by C. K. Williams. I look forward to reading her appreciation of this poet, which I must have overlooked, first time round...)

Archaic Torso of Apollo
after Rilke


You'll never know that terrific head,
or feel those eyeballs ripen on you -
yet something here keeps you in view,
as if his look had sunk inside


and still blazed on. Or the double axe
of the breast couldn't blind you, nor that grin
flash along the crease of the loins
down to the low centre of his sex.


Or else he'd sit, headless and halved,
his shoulders falling to thin air -
not shiver like the pelt of a wolf


or burst from his angles like a star:
for there is nowhere to hide, nothing here
that does not see you. Now change your life.
Don Paterson

Poetry Hunt

If you were struggling to choose a poetry book to read, you might find this article in the Guardian and the readers' comments helpful. I think there are loads of really good suggestions there - volumes I know and love, some I've never heard of, but now feel inspired to seek out.

One such poem which I just tracked down this morning is this by Rilke, translated from German by Stephen Mitchell. Follow this link and you'll also find an illuminating commentary on the poem by Mark Doty. And some links to Mark Doty's poems - which are also worth a look! I always was a big fan of treasure hunts! 

Archaic Torso of Apollo

We cannot know his legendary head

with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso

is still suffused with brilliance from inside,

like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,

gleams in all its power. Otherwise

the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could

a smile run through the placid hips and thighs

to that dark center where procreation flared.

Otherwise this stone would seem defaced

beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders

and would not glisten like a wild beast's fur:

would not, from all the borders of itself,

burst like a star: for here there is no place

that does not see you. You must change your life.

Rainer Maria Rilke

translated by Stephen Mitchell