tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post8451398322175509440..comments2024-03-18T15:17:26.003-05:00Comments on l'astronave: The Lines of Others, Out LoudFrescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-25645972415570572052010-04-14T10:24:19.028-05:002010-04-14T10:24:19.028-05:00JEN: You're right--knowing where to break a po...JEN: You're right--knowing where to break a poem is really something.<br /><br />When I jotted down scraps of poems from memory, the only ones I remembered correctly were the ones with wonderful rhythm and rhyme:<br />E.g. "I do not like green eggs and ham,<br />I do not like them, Sam-I-Am."<br /><br />You had written good comments on Prufrock last year. Something embarrassing about memorizing T.S. Eliot---what could that be?<br />Is liking his poetry sort of puerile, maybe?<br />Like, faux-profound? Even when he IS profound?<br />I don't know.<br />I like him.<br />And I don't.Frescahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-70154362707457189472010-04-12T22:52:10.430-05:002010-04-12T22:52:10.430-05:00I am surprisingly impressed I got the line breaks ...I am surprisingly impressed I got the line breaks right as well! It's more a tribute to Frost than me, though, as he always knew where to break the lines to echo both human speech and thought.<br /><br />These really are beautiful, Fresca--so far-flung and yet you stitch them all together so well, using the living voices and breath of the poets.<br /><br />I'm happy to see Eliot there, somehow I managed to memorize huge swathes of his poetry without really meaning to, and somehow I'm always vaguely embarrassed about it, I'm not sure why.Jenniferhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13923745480765984429noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-28580508281619200522010-04-12T07:59:55.767-05:002010-04-12T07:59:55.767-05:00Thanks, all. People sometimes complain, "Nobo...Thanks, all. People sometimes complain, "Nobody reads poetry anymore."<br /><br />Well, somebodies do. From the guys in the back of the bus composing rap to friends quoting Auden, I see poetry all around me.<br /><br />MAURA: I read that Auden grew to hate that poem, but everyone else--including me--loves it.<br /><br />MANFRED: OMG, how funny! It's Wendell Berry as a comic Brit. (Berry was deeply into a return to growing our own cabbages.)<br /><br />My favorite line:<br />"In various bogus-Tudor bars "<br /><br />I was just commenting the other day how much I dislike faux-Tudor, which we have here too. Not sure why.Frescahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-11336595846526161782010-04-10T10:49:04.436-05:002010-04-10T10:49:04.436-05:00What gems there are here! Naturally your blog comm...What gems there are here! Naturally your blog community cherishes poetry, Fresca, we are brought together by attraction to your love of words and ideas. I feel less alone -- thank you.<br /><br />Love,<br />NancyLillnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-90604544964707254722010-04-10T05:08:22.564-05:002010-04-10T05:08:22.564-05:00A bit violent I know, but I love this:
Slough, by...A bit violent I know, but I love this:<br /><br />Slough, by John Betjeman.<br /><br />Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!<br />It isn't fit for humans now, <br />There isn't grass to graze a cow. <br />Swarm over, Death!<br /><br />Come, bombs and blow to smithereens<br />Those air -conditioned, bright canteens, <br />Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans, <br />Tinned minds, tinned breath. <br /><br />Mess up the mess they call a town—<br />A house for ninety-seven down<br />And once a week a half a crown <br />For twenty years. <br /><br />And get that man with double chin<br />Who'll always cheat and always win, <br />Who washes his repulsive skin <br />In women's tears: <br /><br />And smash his desk of polished oak<br />And smash his hands so used to stroke<br />And stop his boring dirty joke<br />And make him yell. <br /><br />But spare the bald young clerks who add<br />The profits of the stinking cad;<br />It's not their fault that they are mad, <br />They've tasted Hell. <br /><br />It's not their fault they do not know <br />The birdsong from the radio, <br />It's not their fault they often go <br />To Maidenhead <br /><br />And talk of sport and makes of cars<br />In various bogus-Tudor bars <br />And daren't look up and see the stars<br />But belch instead. <br /><br />In labour-saving homes, with care<br />Their wives frizz out peroxide hair<br />And dry it in synthetic air<br />And paint their nails. <br /><br />Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough<br />To get it ready for the plough.<br />The cabbages are coming now;<br />The earth exhales.ooooooooooooooooooooooooooohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15347076050510425951noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-15125909911398587272010-04-09T20:43:17.749-05:002010-04-09T20:43:17.749-05:00Years ago in the middle of a hectic day as an advo...Years ago in the middle of a hectic day as an advocate, I pulled out a book of poetry to calm me in such moments. W.H. Auden leapt off the page at me. I memorized this instantly (a serious challenge for me, normally) because its light, the light of others, seared itself into my being:<br /><br />Defenceless under the night<br />our world in stupor lies.<br />Yet dotted everywhere, <br />ironic points of light flash out<br />wherever the just<br />exchange their messages.<br />May I, composed like them<br />of eros and of dust,<br />beleaguered by the same<br />negation and despair<br />show an affirming flame.Mauranoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-52365712137910214682010-04-09T13:59:50.861-05:002010-04-09T13:59:50.861-05:00Wow, thank you for the chance to see and hear Wend...Wow, thank you for the chance to see and hear Wendell. He sounds like regular folk, as I knew he would. And I love his genuine humor. The others' lines and poems are so real and good, too. Thanks.deannahttp://deannahershiser.com/stories-glimmernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-76437727940547160782010-04-09T11:44:52.633-05:002010-04-09T11:44:52.633-05:00This is lovely, Fresca. Thanks for stitching it to...This is lovely, Fresca. Thanks for stitching it together. <br /><br />I love to watch the bits where they focus on audience members watching/listening/laughing/smiling while Frost speak. <br /><br />"But the corpse, alas, kept on dying"---a line not easily forgotten.Marzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05258262409718943594noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-11909921571447975082010-04-09T10:48:34.005-05:002010-04-09T10:48:34.005-05:00A very moving collection.A very moving collection.ArtSparkerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04875996639432864367noreply@blogger.com