In which there is poetry from two small islands and several continents
- Reading, books 2016, 174
162. Shell, by Olive Senior, 2007, is a themed collection of poetry. The history herein is 4/5, but the poetry is only an average 3/5 for me, although that doesn't matter because I'm neither of the intended audiences. My favourite poem is Shell, about contact with the past through archaeology and histories and direct communication via genes and/or spirits, and there are three quotes from other poems below.... (3.5/5)
• Extract from The Song That It Sings, by Olive Senior
tonight, I feel a hemispheric sadness: the
New World as tired as the rest. And there’s
a waterlogged moon getting ready to burst
like the gourd that spilled an ocean when
the seeker, like myself, disobeyed, took it
down from where it hung by a thread,
dropped and broke it. So how were we
to know that from it seas would stream
forth, bringing three ships with our eclipse:
the Black Sun? Yet how but by disobedience
can we change the world order? So what if
all we are left with is a sieve to carry water?
We can use it to fish up a poem or two
to sail from our flagpoles. [...]
• Far from Kun-Lun
the crane's legs tied
I swallow the unfamiliar
with each breath.
• the place where I house a knot
where memory thickens and pearls.
165. Oracabessa, by Lorna Goodison, meaning GoldenHead, 2013, is more award-winning poetry from this Jamaican-born but far-travelled poet and artist. Very much a segmented collection and I personally preferred the first half but many people will find as much to enjoy in the later sections. There's an exceptionally honest poem about some of the racism inculcated by Christian missionaries. Another travel poem includes the only occasion on which I've laughed aloud at the words "it was all very Ingmar Bergman." (4/5)
• On Spanish bulls bred for bullfighting: "sleek as leather sofas"
• I value my silent days. In the ground of my being
I have raised a small one-room wattle and daub hermitage.
166. Five Fields, by Gillian Clarke, 1998, more poetry from this excellent Welsh poet. (3.5/5)
• ice in slate = "chisels of glass"
• In the great grey tank of the sea
muscular river and sea-currents flex
and the Severn's wrestle of waters
cracks two shores open.
• My father opened blackout curtains,
switched all the lights on,
and house after house across Europe
set fire to the dark.
This entry was originally posted at http://spiralsheep.dreamwidth.org/600156.html and has
comments Please comment there using OpenID.
162. Shell, by Olive Senior, 2007, is a themed collection of poetry. The history herein is 4/5, but the poetry is only an average 3/5 for me, although that doesn't matter because I'm neither of the intended audiences. My favourite poem is Shell, about contact with the past through archaeology and histories and direct communication via genes and/or spirits, and there are three quotes from other poems below.... (3.5/5)
• Extract from The Song That It Sings, by Olive Senior
tonight, I feel a hemispheric sadness: the
New World as tired as the rest. And there’s
a waterlogged moon getting ready to burst
like the gourd that spilled an ocean when
the seeker, like myself, disobeyed, took it
down from where it hung by a thread,
dropped and broke it. So how were we
to know that from it seas would stream
forth, bringing three ships with our eclipse:
the Black Sun? Yet how but by disobedience
can we change the world order? So what if
all we are left with is a sieve to carry water?
We can use it to fish up a poem or two
to sail from our flagpoles. [...]
• Far from Kun-Lun
the crane's legs tied
I swallow the unfamiliar
with each breath.
• the place where I house a knot
where memory thickens and pearls.
165. Oracabessa, by Lorna Goodison, meaning GoldenHead, 2013, is more award-winning poetry from this Jamaican-born but far-travelled poet and artist. Very much a segmented collection and I personally preferred the first half but many people will find as much to enjoy in the later sections. There's an exceptionally honest poem about some of the racism inculcated by Christian missionaries. Another travel poem includes the only occasion on which I've laughed aloud at the words "it was all very Ingmar Bergman." (4/5)
• On Spanish bulls bred for bullfighting: "sleek as leather sofas"
• I value my silent days. In the ground of my being
I have raised a small one-room wattle and daub hermitage.
166. Five Fields, by Gillian Clarke, 1998, more poetry from this excellent Welsh poet. (3.5/5)
• ice in slate = "chisels of glass"
• In the great grey tank of the sea
muscular river and sea-currents flex
and the Severn's wrestle of waters
cracks two shores open.
• My father opened blackout curtains,
switched all the lights on,
and house after house across Europe
set fire to the dark.
This entry was originally posted at http://spiralsheep.dreamwidth.org/600156.html and has
comments Please comment there using OpenID.