The Peninsula by Seamus Heaney (1939-2013); The Hourglass by Ben Jonson; If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda; 38. Shedding the Old by Samantha Thornhill; Mindful by Mary Oliver; Words Ends by Alfred Starr Hamilton
It takes a group and a handful of poems adding their voices to make for a spirited discussion! We had voices from Ireland, Renaissance England, Chile, contemporary Trinidad/Tobago the universality of Mary Oliver and the dark dreambox words of a poet born in Montclair, NJ 1914.
The Peninsula: Paul tells us Ards means "High Place", but in this poem, it is specifically the Ard Penisula in NE Ireland. He then read the poem aloud, adding just the right touch of Irish flavor.
Although one could interpret "nothing more to say" as writer's block, our discussion didn't talk about the cure for it to take a drive. Instead we reveled in the rich imagery, the beautiful personification of "horizons drinking down sea and hill"; the ploughed field swallowing, the rock where breakers are shredded into rags. Indeed, why would you not chose the natural wildness as opposed to the urban, human world which can be stifling and detrimental -- not just to writers, but to us all.
The pleasure of reading perfect iambic pentameter and end rhymes perhaps is a parallel example of how form coaxes words worthy of spending time with them. Paul made us all want to go to the fjords of North Ireland and watch the whales spouting in their pods! Bernie pointed out the key of "uncoding landscapes"-- stripping ourselves of everything, and open to nature to receive what we have unwittingly ignored.
Everyone enjoyed this poem, especially for the flow and musicality. We did not comment on the opening line, or the repeat in the final stanza.... "still with nothing to say". Perhaps it is an invitation or a permission to enjoy in silence, all that is around you.
The Hourglass: Ben Jonson, (1572-1637) known as second to Shakespeare for his wit provides us 9 lines
of rhymed commentary on life, love, death. I don't know if was custom to make an hourglass of someone's ashes, but if poetic license it certainly is highly effective!!!
If You Forget Me: I gave the note about how beautifully this poem balances feeling and control. Love is not endless or helpless, but moves in a novel direction of looking to the future, with realistic conditions.
We appreciated how this love poem starts in the honeymoon period. The pull between distance and intimacy with the image of little boats, sailing towards islands, is beautifully tender. The response to his outline of what would happen if love were to end, ranged from understanding it as "tit for tat" to realistic abandonment of a pointless pursuit. It was interesting to discuss how we might receive the poem if we didn't know the gender of the speaker. Is it Neruda? Is he adopting the persona of a woman or a different man? We discussed his name, and pseudonyms in general. Axel found that he changed it to be able to write poetry and defy his father. What usually pops up first is his active political resistance. If the speaker of the poem is not Neruda, how does that change your reading? Some felt, if it were written by a woman, one would feel she has a sense of agency more so than a man who might be a bit macho. Given the time he lived in, and knowing some of his biography, we still are in a place of conjecture. Axel offered that the situation might seen unbelievable for a woman to be in, but if it were to happen, we might be more supportive of a woman. Curious that the group was divided precisely into 50% male and 50% female.
38. Shedding the Old: It would be hard not to love this poem filled as it is with epigrams, like a fortune cookie filled with curious predictions. Apparently 38 is the number that corresponds with a book of Oracles, in this case, the title, Shedding the Old. The sensuous imagery, makes you want indeed to "unbox yourself" and "wild yourself" with the unusual nuggets of each line. Many of them seem perfect for a motivational poster! "Summon surprise!" /"Take Soul" (as opposed to "Take heart"). "Your joy is your job and yours alone." It seems the poet is unleashing an inner oracle brought about with language play. The line, "Something whim-/sical this way comes" perhaps was a nod to Ray Bradbury.
for a little more about the poet (missed sending this...)
https://fightandfiddle.com/2024/09/01/perfectly-imperfect-an-interview-with-samantha-thornhill/
Mindful:
A rival poem to Wild Geese and Summer Day with the famous last two lines, " Tell me, what is it you plan to do/ With your one wild and precious life?" I love her way of embracing duality with the linebreaks: "something /that more or less/kills me --
and then SURPRISE, with delight, continued by comparing it with the needle in the haystack (proverbially unfindable) of light. She knows how to convince, using rhetorical devices that explain what she is not doing... pokes fun at herself (kindly) and then repeats light but with the adjective untrimmable, i.e., no trimmed wicks or proscribed rituals. As Polly put it, "everything grows and is, in spite of" -- how can you not want to embrace an outlook that finds joy in the "very drab", that obeys an inner command to "lose yourself/inside this soft world"... where prayers are made of grass.
Words Ends
Carolyn was not present to explain how she had heard about this poet on NPR, and was convinced to buy his book, A Dark Dreambox of Another Kind . Born June 14, 1914 – 2005
in Montclair, NJ where he lived his whole life, he never graduated from HS, was dismissed by the US Army when enlisted and seemed to be rather a recluse. The editors of his book note that “Hamilton’s is an extremely gentle language cultured in loneliness, the product of encountering a world while staying away from it.”
Bernie gave a stab at trying to understand starting with the title. He does not use punctuation. Perhaps he meant a possessive Word's ... maybe he made a typo and meant Words End. Or dropped an L, and meant world. Already we are plunged into a world unlike anything recognizable. The "eth" on walk, talk, think works to throw us back into time and the King James version of the Bible. Perhaps the city is a metaphor for "everything". How does a place define you -- the culture, the people, the circumstances. For sure, puzzling and catches us off balance.
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