Australian Poetry Week
My good pal anomilygrace is rather fond of poetry. I've always had a love-hate relationship with poetry. I can madly fall in love with a poem, but I absolutely loathe studying poetry in an academic setting, especially Australian poetry. For a while, I've been meaning to get my anthology of Australian poetry off the bookshelf and surprise anomilygrace with a gift of a poem every morning when she wakes up.
Tonight I've decided to do just that and to share the love around a bit. So every day this week, I'll be posting a poem. Probably Australian. If I find one I like that isn't by an Australian poet, I may throw that in as well, but there'll be at least one Australian one.
I'll throw in a bit of commentary as well, but please keep in mind that it's just my opinion. Take what I say with a grain of salt, mkay?
Anyway! What better to start with than a Kenneth Slessor double header?
Slessor (1901-1971) was one of the early to mid 20th century poets who helped shift Australian poetry away from the head in the clouds bush poetry that romanticized the bush and the Outback. You won't find nostalgic descriptions of gum trees and swagmen in Slessor's poetry. His focus is the city, primarily (or perhaps exclusively, I'm not sure) Sydney and its grittiness, especially the slums with its liquor, gambling and prostitution. In my opinion, his love for this dirty urban setting comes out loud and clear in William Street.
William Street
by Kenneth Slessor
The red globes of light, the liquor-green,
The pulsing arrows and the running fire
Spilt on the stones, go deeper than a stream;
You find this ugly, I find it lovely.
Ghosts' trousers, like the dangle of hung men,
In pawnshop-windows, bumping knee by knee,
But none inside to suffer or condemn;
You find this ugly, I find it lovely.
Smells rich and rasping, smoke and fat and fish
And puffs of paraffin that crimp the nose,
Or grease that blesses onions with a hiss;
You find it ugly, I find it lovely.
The dips and molls, with flip and shiny gaze
(Death at their elbows, hunger at their heels)
Ranging the pavements of their pasturage;
You find it ugly, I find it lovely.
***
Slessor wasn't all about the gritty city though. He also wrote two rather famous poems about the aftermath of war, having served as a war correspondant during WWII.
Beach Burial
by Kenneth Slessor
Softly and humbly to the Gulf of Arabs
The convoys of dead sailors come;
At night they sway and wander in the waters far under,
But morning rolls them in the foam.
Between the sob and clubbing of the gunfire
Someone, it seems, has time for this,
To pluck them from the shallows and bury them in burrows
And tread the sand upon their nakedness;
And each cross, the driven stake of tidewood,
Bears the last signature of men,
Written with such perplexity, with such bewildered pity,
The words choke as they begin -
'Unknown seaman' - the ghostly pencil
Wavers and fades, the purple drips,
The breath of the wet season has washed their inscriptions
As blue as drowned men's lips,
Dead seamen, gone in search of the same landfall,
Whether as enemies they fought,
Or fought with us, or neither; the sand joins them together,
Enlisted on the other front.
El Alamein
Tonight I've decided to do just that and to share the love around a bit. So every day this week, I'll be posting a poem. Probably Australian. If I find one I like that isn't by an Australian poet, I may throw that in as well, but there'll be at least one Australian one.
I'll throw in a bit of commentary as well, but please keep in mind that it's just my opinion. Take what I say with a grain of salt, mkay?
Anyway! What better to start with than a Kenneth Slessor double header?
Slessor (1901-1971) was one of the early to mid 20th century poets who helped shift Australian poetry away from the head in the clouds bush poetry that romanticized the bush and the Outback. You won't find nostalgic descriptions of gum trees and swagmen in Slessor's poetry. His focus is the city, primarily (or perhaps exclusively, I'm not sure) Sydney and its grittiness, especially the slums with its liquor, gambling and prostitution. In my opinion, his love for this dirty urban setting comes out loud and clear in William Street.
William Street
by Kenneth Slessor
The red globes of light, the liquor-green,
The pulsing arrows and the running fire
Spilt on the stones, go deeper than a stream;
You find this ugly, I find it lovely.
Ghosts' trousers, like the dangle of hung men,
In pawnshop-windows, bumping knee by knee,
But none inside to suffer or condemn;
You find this ugly, I find it lovely.
Smells rich and rasping, smoke and fat and fish
And puffs of paraffin that crimp the nose,
Or grease that blesses onions with a hiss;
You find it ugly, I find it lovely.
The dips and molls, with flip and shiny gaze
(Death at their elbows, hunger at their heels)
Ranging the pavements of their pasturage;
You find it ugly, I find it lovely.
***
Slessor wasn't all about the gritty city though. He also wrote two rather famous poems about the aftermath of war, having served as a war correspondant during WWII.
Beach Burial
by Kenneth Slessor
Softly and humbly to the Gulf of Arabs
The convoys of dead sailors come;
At night they sway and wander in the waters far under,
But morning rolls them in the foam.
Between the sob and clubbing of the gunfire
Someone, it seems, has time for this,
To pluck them from the shallows and bury them in burrows
And tread the sand upon their nakedness;
And each cross, the driven stake of tidewood,
Bears the last signature of men,
Written with such perplexity, with such bewildered pity,
The words choke as they begin -
'Unknown seaman' - the ghostly pencil
Wavers and fades, the purple drips,
The breath of the wet season has washed their inscriptions
As blue as drowned men's lips,
Dead seamen, gone in search of the same landfall,
Whether as enemies they fought,
Or fought with us, or neither; the sand joins them together,
Enlisted on the other front.
El Alamein