Posts Tagged 'Poetry'



“Finders Keepers, holder Seekers hidden Secrets”: Writing in Cryptics

Finders Keepers, Knightmare S7

Most of us are guilty of this at some point: writing in cryptics. Why do we do it? Why express ourselves in terms that are not meant to be understood? Is it, perhaps, a deep subconscious desire to be public with our privacy? Is it more about reaching out, or being reached out to?

Aside from studying a poet forever burying his truth beneath layers of perplexity (if we are ever meant to find it at all), what interests me is the human tendency to overcomplicate problems, either out of shame, embarrassment or in trying to rescue some moral dignity.

Scenario: person A is in a relationship but goes to spend the day with person B, whom they have always had an attraction to. Person A ends the day feeling sheepish, unsettled and awkward, and explains it off as ‘it’s complicated’. It’s not complicated at all, but a collection of guilt and other unpleasant sensations that determines a distinctly defensive response. The majority of us will tie situations in knots to avoid a palpably and unescapably naked truth.

Continue reading ‘“Finders Keepers, holder Seekers hidden Secrets”: Writing in Cryptics’

Brands of Solitude: Poets and their Nature

The highlight of this year has been participating in recordings for The Poetry Show on KUSP Radio, Santa Cruz. This post is indebted to a discussion of Andrew Marvell’s ‘The Garden’ and Christina Rossetti’s ‘In the Willow Shade’ for our fourth installment which aired on 8th May, the best to date.

The Poetry Show, KUSP / Radio Santa Cruz, California

We all enjoy solitude at points in our lives. Privacy is not just a right, one might argue, but a human requirement. We all enjoy that little realm when the door is shut firmly behind us and we can lapse into self-sufficiency.

The fundamental problem is how to draw the right balance. Managing solitude can be vital to our psychological wellbeing. It is difficult to maintain relationships that have little contact, and even harder to develop new ones. We live in times where it is easy to get lost and forgotten if we do not project ourselves publicly. It is rare that people will come looking for us.

Continue reading ‘Brands of Solitude: Poets and their Nature’

Poetry and Appearing on KUSP, Santa Cruz

This post embraces loneliness by celebrating togetherness. The conduit is that indefinable, elusive, and enigmatic craft of poetry.

95% loneliness: Poetry

The falling leaf poem, the first in e.e. cummings’ collection 95 poems, inspired the strongest definition of poetry I’ve ever been able to come up with: ‘95% loneliness’. It’s impossibly inadequate, of course. It says nothing of genre, form, or even of certainty; it just vividly suggests something about authorship. For me, it stands the test of time.

Poetry is an enigma that delves beyond certainty. It doesn’t write itself, and whatever brings it about evokes just as many harrowing questions as that which appears on the page.

Continue reading ‘Poetry and Appearing on KUSP, Santa Cruz’

In Dreams

A digression from the thesis, which is suffering from the law of diminishing returns today. As I am presenting the recording for Radio Santa Cruz this evening, it is time to shift from the analytical towards the imaginative mood, or at least find a useful balance between the two.

This has not been difficult of late. I have found myself returning to arts not visited for a long time, and returning to long absent experiences. A particularly wholesome dream of mine last night, I thought, might just provide enough fulfilment to cover the swelling gaps of a vacant life for as long as the memories hold on.

Dreams have always intrigued me with their mystery, but my interest in them waivers. Continue reading ‘In Dreams’

Presenting Privacy: Marvell and London

Thank you for visiting, and for reading. It is nice to receive a few glances every so often. I hope you will come back again.

Fractal Palace

Presenting Privacy

Both professionally and personally, privacy has been a daunting and fascinating topic over the past two weeks. A paper entitled ‘Denying Authorship: Marvell, Maniban and the Quest for Privacy’ was given in Geneva, which was followed by ‘Marvell in Manuscript and Print: Public and Private Experiences, 1649-1660′ at the Andrew Marvell Centre, University of Hull. The Geneva presentation was by far the stronger of the two. The latter was, coincidentally, almost a private affair. Finally, I ended up in Oxford for a ‘Marvell and London’ conference this weekend.

A universal positive in my favour is that people remember the subject. Unlike topographies and typographies, episcopacies and liturgies, privacy is something that everyone can, and in a way, wants to, identify with. We are instantly drawn to exchange and adapt our own sense of privacy with the picture we have of the early-modern world in which our protagonists lived.

And our protagonists are real people. Tapping into somebody else’s psyche and trying to understand the creation of the puzzles rather than the answers is surely to create and define a more colourful literary history. We want to know what there was to hide. We probably won’t find out, but we can be as inquisitive as we like under the guise of ‘history’.

Continue reading ‘Presenting Privacy: Marvell and London’

Farewell Frost, (or Waking the Dead)

It is good to see the warmer weather returning, and to feel the sunshine gracing us again. It makes quite a considerable difference to monotonous days. The weather this past week first brought to mind the setting of Robert Browning’s ‘A Lover’s Quarrel’: “Oh, what a Dawn of Day! / How the March sun feels like May”. However, at the back of my mind, a slightly more convoluted idea was forming, taking its roots in Robert Herrick’s ‘Farewell Frost, or Welcome Spring’.

FLED are the frosts, and now the fields appear
Re-cloth’d in fresh and verdant diaper.
Thaw’d are the snows, and now the lusty spring
Gives to each mead a neat enamelling.
The palms put forth their gems, and every tree
Now swaggers in her leafy gallantry.
The while the Daulian minstrel sweetly sings,
With warbling notes, her Terean sufferings.
What gentle winds perspire !   As if here
Never had been the northern plunderer
To strip the trees and fields, to their distress,
Leaving them to a pitied nakedness.
And look how when a frantic storm doth tear
A stubborn oak, or holm, long growing there,
But lull’d to calmness, then succeeds a breeze
That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees :
So when this war, which tempest-like doth spoil
Our salt, our corn, our honey, wine and oil,
Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast
His inconsiderate frenzy off, at last,
The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease,
Bring in her bill, once more, the branch of peace.

Robert Herrick, ‘Farewell Frost, or Welcome Spring’

The identity of the seventeenth-century citizen, and much of their livelihoods in turn, revolved around ideology: moral instruction and religious practice. Today, far-removed, we revolve around different factors. Whether financial, material, status, pride, or perhaps family, children, and day-to-day survival, much of this boils down to occupation. What is evidently comparable, though, is the scale of the effect on livelihood.

Continue reading ‘Farewell Frost, (or Waking the Dead)’

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