All good vegetable puns start with Lettuce
I have not posted since January, and I'm not uncertain it's not because of Novak Djokovic.
This may prove uninteresting to anyone who doesn't read poetry (though I'm not quite sure why no one out there seems to be reading poetry except for poets), but this is about Simon Armitage, who is nothing to be afraid of.
His poem, "You're Beautiful" (which should be listened to and relished on poetryarchive.org) contains the line,
"You're beautiful because for you, politeness is instinctive, not a marketing campaign."
This poem was one I could discuss easily with my students because it doesn't require mental (or structural) gymnastics, only an interest in how we see ourselves and each other. It's strange discussing poetry with 18 year olds. For reasons I cannot explain (that line always has to end "there's some part of me wants to see Graceland," and then restart with what's really going to be said next), they love Shakespeare, because whether they know it or not, they get Shakespeare in the ways we've all been getting him since the 16th century. Contemporary poetry is a crap shoot. Much of it is too vulgar (there was no such thing as too vulgar for me at 18, but I hear I've got more than a streak of Yankee heathen in me. And I a Sox fan.) In any case, they seem to like Armitage. Some loved him. Others barely listened.
I was delighted to read in Armitage's memoir (if calling it that does not do it a terrible injustice-- it's so much more multifaceted than that) the following passage on John Peel, legendary BBC disc jockey:
"His manner as well is something that sets him apart; most people use the words 'please' and thank you' either through gritted teeth or was is they were promotional gimmicks in a politeness-marketing strategy. But with him, you get the feeling he actually knows what they mean, and actually means them."
As far as I can tell, the piece on John Peel predates the poem by seven years (at least), and it's a pleasure to see the idea revisited, as though it was something Armitage could not stop thinking about and had to find its way in somewhere. True, John Peel is not a woman, but the attribute remains as singular and as important in the poem as it was in its first consideration in the memoir.
...I think I bored you.
This may prove uninteresting to anyone who doesn't read poetry (though I'm not quite sure why no one out there seems to be reading poetry except for poets), but this is about Simon Armitage, who is nothing to be afraid of.
His poem, "You're Beautiful" (which should be listened to and relished on poetryarchive.org) contains the line,
"You're beautiful because for you, politeness is instinctive, not a marketing campaign."
This poem was one I could discuss easily with my students because it doesn't require mental (or structural) gymnastics, only an interest in how we see ourselves and each other. It's strange discussing poetry with 18 year olds. For reasons I cannot explain (that line always has to end "there's some part of me wants to see Graceland," and then restart with what's really going to be said next), they love Shakespeare, because whether they know it or not, they get Shakespeare in the ways we've all been getting him since the 16th century. Contemporary poetry is a crap shoot. Much of it is too vulgar (there was no such thing as too vulgar for me at 18, but I hear I've got more than a streak of Yankee heathen in me. And I a Sox fan.) In any case, they seem to like Armitage. Some loved him. Others barely listened.
I was delighted to read in Armitage's memoir (if calling it that does not do it a terrible injustice-- it's so much more multifaceted than that) the following passage on John Peel, legendary BBC disc jockey:
"His manner as well is something that sets him apart; most people use the words 'please' and thank you' either through gritted teeth or was is they were promotional gimmicks in a politeness-marketing strategy. But with him, you get the feeling he actually knows what they mean, and actually means them."
As far as I can tell, the piece on John Peel predates the poem by seven years (at least), and it's a pleasure to see the idea revisited, as though it was something Armitage could not stop thinking about and had to find its way in somewhere. True, John Peel is not a woman, but the attribute remains as singular and as important in the poem as it was in its first consideration in the memoir.
...I think I bored you.