October 07, 2004

National poetry day

Posted by Chris

It is National Poetry Day here in the UK, and though it is presumably not National Poetry Day in many of the nations from which CT contributors and readers come, I’m not going to let that stop me. Nick Barlow is assembling a list of participating blogs and among them is “Backword” Dave Weeden who opines that 130 is the greatest of Shakespeare’s Sonnets. He may be right, but my favourite — especially in Britten’s setting in his Nocturne — is 43. Here it is:

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow’s form, form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made,
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

Posted on October 7, 2004 12:31 PM UTC
Comments

Glorious. Thank you. I’d forgotten that. My favorite would have to be:
“Let us not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
That alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove…”
I’ve always wanted to see a jar lid which said “To remove, bend with the remover.”

Posted by John Isbell · October 7, 2004 02:14 PM

I’ve always liked Angus Young’s homage to that Shakesperean sonnet:

She was a fast machine,
She kept her motor clean,
She was the best damn woman that I’d ever seen.

She had the sightless eyes,
Telling me no lies,
Knocking me out with those American thighs.

Posted by Anonymous · October 7, 2004 02:19 PM

I’ll just link to my post earlier this year on Poem In Your Pocket Day.

Posted by eszter · October 7, 2004 03:14 PM

If it’s National Poetry Day, can you explain why the market didn’t work in even making a female poet a contender for the Nobel Prize awarded today?

Posted by Ken Houghton · October 7, 2004 03:50 PM

I posted this on my blog some months ago but it’s still splendid (although maybe a bit bleak and irreligious). Czech poet Josef Hanzlik’s take on the crucifixion… [I tried to get the orthography right. There’s no punctation and only white space is used to break it up]

Judas

(To Christ’s disciples)

It’s over then You cowardly dogs

you proud, cultured and exalted men with your gentle eyes

and measured gestures and fulsome sentiment

now you spit at me and as from a pulpit

shout Traitor Dirty filthy traitor

For thirty pieces of silver for one night with a whore

he robbed the world of its Light robbed us of the Teacher

You rats Where did you scuttle

as they led Him to Golgotha Where did you shake

with liquid-bellied fear Where in your confusion did you

throw your badges and how many of you like Peter

denied Him thrice You sanctimonious weaklings

did I not offer you

a sword Did you not flee from a mere dozen men

Did even one of you His darlings and His brothers

attempt to shield Him with your own body

Or afterwards when He was tortured in his cell

did you go out among the people calling for help

Were not the people able to decide Surely the people

could have said No to Pilate Let Him be our King

You pharisees You wanted Him

killed For on the corpse the still warm corpse

you built a temple where you would be kings…

           I’m off

to find a stout branch

and one that’s seen so that Jerusalem

shall have its three-day giggle I who alone

was worthy of a place beside Him or after Him

I who had a sense

of tactics and strategy I who did not shrink from

stealing lying even garroting

for a Sacred Cause I who understood

that I was to use the funds

even for tricks and corruption I who longed

to multiply our property and secretly buy weapons I

who realised that the Master’s whole repertoire

of childish miracles and deeds of human kindness

was useless stuff today That today the Teaching

must be propagated by the swifter language of arrow and battle-axe

                And I

had a plan I wanted

the Master to be taken and held in the worst of

dungeons That’s why I thought up

the crown of thorns so that the mob should see

the red drops That’s why I advocated

heavier beams for the cross That’s why I egged on

that crowd of layabouts to line

the road to Calvary And lastly that’s why

I got on to the high priest…

              How

he was to have been outwitted For I

relied on you you gentle vipers

to use the power of the Word to unleash in the crowd

a protest a longing for revenge a longing for murder

I hoped that apathetic mob would sharpen their knives

pick up the stones that there’d be a slaughter

which would burn Jerusalem to the ground and like a blind dog

race across the frontiers

the enemy would be routed and - why not admit it - a good few

of our friends would inevitably die

But what of it I would unite the survivors

in a great everlasting happy realm of the Faith

O the Master knew well the strength inside me And he realised

that I am more consistent that I am more apt

to propagate the Light for He

had but a name Otherwise a simpleton

and also alas a coward That’s why He feared me

and would rather go

meekly like a lamb to the slaughter

Not only you but He too

lost me my fight and betrayed…

              But the traitor for eternity

for the record of history which as always

has the last laugh that’s to be my role

I blood-brother to Cain who was wiser

and braver than the rest for he was not afraid of murder

who was by your forefathers as I am today by you

branded with the mark I’m off now

I don’t want to live like an outcast

despised I’m off

That hill up there

looks suitable

All I need is a branch

I have a rope

Josef Hanzlik, 1967

Posted by Matt McGrattan · October 7, 2004 04:07 PM
Ken: From Sweden’s biggest tabloid two days ago:

[M]ånga hoppas och tror på en kvinnlig vinnare. Bland kandidaterna finns det särskilt en som många talar om: den danska poeten Inger Christensen.

Many are hoping for and expecting a female winner. Among the candidates there is one in particular that many are talking about: the Danish poet Inger Christensen.

And as of yesterday she was joint-ninth favourite (with DeLillo) at Ladbrokes with odds of 34-1.

Posted by des von bladet · October 7, 2004 04:09 PM

Elfriede Jelinek won.

Posted by Motoko Kusanagi · October 7, 2004 04:28 PM

I just spent 20 minutes googling for a poem by Jelinek, but I can’t find anything, so here’s something by Raymond Queneau instead.

Quand les poètes s’ennuient alors il leur ar-
Rive de prendre une plume et d’écrire un po-
Ème on comprend dans ces conditions que ça bar-
Be un peu quelque fois la poésie la po-
Ésie

Posted by Motoko Kusanagi · October 7, 2004 04:51 PM

I don’t think I could narrow it down to one - though if I absolutely had to or be shot at dawn, I would go for 116, the same that John Isbell did. Let me not to the marriage of true minds. But really there’s a whole largish crowd. A run of them in the 60s and 70s-

Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore

and

When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced

and

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea

and

No longer mourn for me when I am dead

and

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

And then

They that have power to hurt and will do none

and

Alas, ‘tis true, I have gone here and there

and

O for my sake do you with Fortune chide

and (going in the other direction)

Not marble nor the gilded monuments of princes

and

When in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes

Maybe that’s the one I would choose to avert dawn fusillade. It’s between 116 and 29. A draw.

Posted by Ophelia Benson · October 7, 2004 04:59 PM

It turns out that a great many people take exeception to LXII, Sin of self-love. But then, Bertrand Russell reported having received a communication from someone wondering why everyone didn’t believe in solipsism, since it was so obviously true.

Posted by bad Jim · October 8, 2004 11:11 AM

Just blogged today’s health news in simple verse.

Incidentally, it’s not easy to find many rhymes for malpractice. Thanks to the Space Cowboy Steve Miller for the help with that one.

Posted by Ross · October 8, 2004 04:36 PM

I go with “They that have the power to hurt and will do none”, partly because I think that the line “And husband nature’s riches from expense” is one of the best-sounding lines of poetry ever written. (Read it out loud.)

Posted by Margaret · October 9, 2004 06:29 PM
Followups

→ National Poetry Day in the UK.
Excerpt: I was inspired by this post at Crooked Timber , which celebrates the UK's National Poetry Day with one of Shakespeare's lesser-known but most beautiful sonnets, to post the one and only sonnet I've ever written (so far).Read more at Why Your Wife Won't Have Sex With You (Part 2)

This discussion has been closed. Thanks to everyone who contributed.