The Earnest Poet

Something happens when I try and write poetry.  I regress to my days of teenage angst.  Believe me, that is a journey of many years, but as a teenager I discovered Gerard Manley Hopkins, and I spent those earnest years trying to re-write ‘Pied Beauty’ with its sprung rhythm and archaic language.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

               Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

                    With swift, slow; sweet, sour, dazzle, dim;

          He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

                         Praise him.

In my first year, with some trepidation, I did present a poem to the M.A. Workshop.  The response was as expected.  The group recognised how forced it was and concluded that, ‘no one writes poetry like that anymore.’  And of course none of it made sense to anyone, except me, which I suppose, is total indulgence.  I won’t subject you to that poem, but here is one about…





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s