SWIMMING IN A WATERING CAN— by Bruce Bennett
At Rose's Range by R. S. Gwynn. (from Texas
WORDS FOR THE STRAY by Bruce Bennet as response to
Don Kimball's, Burial for a Stray
Degeneration
ON RECEIVING A NOTE AND PICTURE FROM A FORMER STUDENT ANNOUNCING SHE HAS BECOME A GRANDPARENT
MY LIFE
We were honored to have Bruce come visit the Wednesday session and not only read the above poems, but answer questions about them and give us more background.
He mentioned how exciting it is to come to a group who have read-- and appreciated his poetry!
Background: 1973-2014 at Wells. went co-ed in 2005. Visiting writers series. (Merwin, Mary Oliver…); has taught all the writers parodied. He was called to poetry… as was his mother (b. 1907) a poet from Amherst. He knew Robert Frost who came into her father’s store (haberdashery). Bruce writes every day like so many well-known poets, like William Stafford who reminds us, "your standards can never be too low…). His mother wrote also in form and it comes naturally to him. Great advice from his 3rd grade teacher: Mrs. Worthy: don’t wait for inspiration. Just write every day.
He spoke at length about the Sonnet form -- named long after it had been established. Asked why one could call the first 14 line poem a sonnet, since it doesn't rhyme he explained, it has the spirit of a sonnet... The octave sets up the situation, the volta indeed turns the situation with two questions.
We remarked the quiet sounds of the repeating words... the inner rhymes of
stuck, lump, stuff... the labials piling up to 3 times "little by little by little"
of this little lump of a mouse... paddling and paddling (also repeated 3 times)
and the final two words.... all alone.
Who is I? It could be the author... indeed, it is... but the reader can put him or herself in I's shoes.
He explained why he enjoys teaching Rose's Range-- to show more about the Sonnet, and also how to elicit empathy using this form in which to create a
dramatic monologue.
Words for the stray -- his poem is a response to the Don Kimball poem cited as epigram which he didn't feel was finished. He uses the triolet form, where the cleverness of the repeating lines is handled so it doesn't feel trite or dull, but
on the contrary, heightens ones engagement and reinforces their impact. Indeed,
one feels great empathy for homeless, for victimes... and the speaker's empathy for them.
Sonnets build up to the last couplet, but in the poem Degeneration, the poem builds, first 3 quatrains, then a sestet with the contrast between the girl with ALS
and her friends looking forward to college, the hopes, the promises...
Then suddenly delivers the punch of a one liner. These are the things that she is bound to hear.
Then, resuming a quatrain that starts with the question: What must she feel? That’s what I keep on thinking.
The final couplet ends on a universal note that leaves you feeling doubly
filled with admiration for the girl, and broken-hearted, -- that invisible
courage that "must be enough to break a stone god's heart!."
We did not discuss the next poem on Wednesday, but on Thursday at Rundel,
where we noted the rhyme, and the powerful enjambment that falls after
3 quatrains before starting the last 3.
I barely know from year to year
who leaves, or what they take from here
that makes me part of them enough
to make them want to share the stuff
that happens.
Within the stanzas there are also enjambments -- which emphasize the story.
now I forget...
her joy.../about
stuff / that happens
cherish / the thought that...
keep track / of all
I choose / not to be sad
The "Other" Bruce Bennett:
He explained that in his class at Harvard, there was indeed another Bruce Bennett, one who was very lucky with the girls in fact. I told him I had googled him only to find quite Bruce Bennetts out there.
I like this poem, as we are quite a collection of selves inside of ourselves.
In "My Life", it's a lovely tribute of how to live one's life... aware
of the unconscious stuff
that something dark and other’s there
that often calls the shots and lies
beneath my mannerly disguise,
And does not know a thing about
itself. Our lives like a little canoe tossed on ocean of unconscious.
We think we know ourselves… “pry open the lid, but not too far…”
He quoted Frost,
A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.
poem: so much accomplished in short..
Brevity is the soul of wit. (Polonius… Hamlet)
Judy asked if Tim’s room (discussed Aug. 28) was a poem about a boy with special needs. BB c confirmed, explaining how he had to view
a film about the dangers of speeding -- and Tim's story was shown. and speeding tickets and seeing a movie…
What a special treat!
At Rundel, we compared the villanelle by Dylan Thomas, Do not go gentle into that good night, with BB's villanelle, Go Gentle. The one filled with emotion,
of a young man losing his father... the other more like a sermon of a wiser man,
filled with questions.
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