Cries, Whispers, and Song

merrildsmith's avatarYesterday and today: Merril's historical musings

Odilon Redon, The Birth of Venus

She asks the moon when will the storm come–
then sees the sea’s tongue
wind round rocks, licking foam into a lather,

and hears a moan,
the cry of time, the language of misty death
and dreams reborn, whispering

if–
and after the shadows,
a thousand tiny diamonds shine

a spray of light against midnight blue.
She watches the flicker of lustrous wings,
listens for their song.

Today’s message from the Oracle. For those keeping track, the poem came first, but I feel like the Oracle wanted another Redon painting, and I found this one. She probably had it in mind.

View original post

Wombwell Rainbow Book Interviews: “Keeping Away The Spiders” by Anne Pia

Keeping Away The Spdidersv by Anne Pia

Anne Pia

Anne Pia Biography

 

Spiders Excerpt 1Spiders Excerpt 21. When and why did you start writing poetry and essays?

I have written for most of my life, from the five year diaries when I was a child, to adolescent poetry, to curriculum papers, government and inspection reports, articles on education for the Times Literary Supplement; my doctoral thesis over ten years ago.

But there was a singular event in my life in 2011 when my personal life crashed. I went travelling to the Hebrides with a tent and met a woman who was writing sonnets. She too was grieving. We talked about writing and I sent her some stuff to comment on. Shortly after when I was working as a volunteer on Holy Isle, the Buddhist Centre, I got up early one day and started to write …two poems. After that, it seemed as if they poured out of me. I was prolific …couldn’t stop.

At the end of 2014, a good friend challenged me to write a book in 2015 and Language of My Choosing came about. “I wont ever write a book” had been my reaction but the book just evolved…no plan… one thing led to another. It was almost as if, once I started, that the book was already inside me.

I write in order to start a conversation; in order to connect with people. I think that in order to do that, you need to be authentic and in that, being vulnerable.

2. Who introduced you to poetry and essays?

My whole focus as I grew up was on music, words and the arts generally. Music as well as words… almost all music has been so important to me. I learned the piano in my teens and since then have learned to play other instruments including the mandolin and now the fiddle. I have recently been delving into contemporary classical women composers.  For me, poetry and prose have a music; they sound as well as speak on the page. 

My first awakening to poetry and  imagery was at school when I was blown away by DH Lawrence, Masefield, Keats, Wordsworth and Milton. There was one teacher that really brought poetry alive. She passed on her love of the poems by her emotion and her energy and you couldn’t help but respond…totally inspiring.  My first degree at Edinburgh University was in the Arts and Humanities. I studied French and Italian literature and language, Philosophy and English Literature. My close reading of the poetry of Dante in The Divine Comedy trilogy especially; of Petrarch’s beautifully tender love poems to Laura and of the imagery of Charles Baudelaire, Impressionist and Modernist, where a feeling could be evoked through a blend of colour and sound gave me a strong sense of the power of words. I learned the craft of sparseness in Prévert’s work and the words of songs also made a big impression. Especially Georges Moustaki and Georges Brassens with his pithy, rustic and acerbic commentaries on French life and the bourgeoisie. 

 I think it was through my study particularly of French that I somehow saw words and word combinations as entry points to something deeper or universal and I think there are certain words which by their very nature, the sound they make, immediately convey what they represent. For instance..papillon in French, “farfalla” in Italian or Spanish “mariposa” all words for butterfly. You can almost hear the wings and see the flight in the sound of the words.

The essay form is one I am totally familiar with through my Arts Degree background though I hadn’t planned to return to it when I started writing Spiders. That form however, somehow seemed to fit what I was doing with the book, with the structure. It isn’t a far cry either from writing for academic purposes or writing an article for a journal. 

2.1. Why did “DH Lawrence, Masefield, Keats, Wordsworth and Milton” blow you away?

Rich imagery, beauty, a great dignity, worthiness and and an underpinning philosophy. 

2.2. How did the essay form “seem to fit what you were doing with the book, with the structure.” in writing Spiders?

The book grew from the notion of a series of collages which I carefully crafted or worked and reworked into essay form; a mix of imagery, honest retrospective and reflection and where I felt useful, the addition of evidence from current research or examples from other writing.

 Each piece is illuminated with the irrepressible energy, the upsurge of a lust for life, with excitement at possibility and of discovery. In every essay there is a sense of travel forward, of self making and an assertion that self reliance is ultimately where our innate creative power resides.

The central unifying message… what ties all the essays together… but there is a basic framework from where that unifying message comes: a philosophy of impermanence …nothing is solid and everything passes; the transformative power of learning and openness; the existential precept of taking responsibility for one’s own life. 

3. How aware are and were you of the dominating presence of older poets and essayists traditional and contemporary?

I want to honour what has gone before but at the same time, to stand firmly in the time I live in and to through current thinking and trends, look to a future in terms of writing style and what I write about. I have learned my craft from other writers past and present and gathered inspiration through  encounters and conversation. There’s a strong European dimension in my writing. That comes from from my own hybridity (I am rooted in Italian and Scottish culture and have a strong leaning towards French culture too) as well as my background as a linguist. I have also been influenced by contemporary feminist writing…Gay, Beard, Solnit and so on, by current biographers and Nordic and Middle Eastern literature. 

 I want to bring the concept of the aesthetic back into conversations about writing. That is what I take from older literature… the beauty and eloquence of the image; and I particularly appreciate the undressed directness and honesty of a lot of writing today. 

Ultimately, I am not aware of any dominating presence but I am affected by what I like, appreciate or am in awe of in writing old and new. 

4. How did you decide on the  order of the essays  in “Spiders”?

We felt that the essay On Miracles in Keeping Away The Spiders was the rawest and the “beating heart of the book” to quote my editors. That dictated how the other collages appeared. I also felt that the essay “and final notes”  should round off the entire collection. “Variations”.. theme and different articulations of a melody line… is a metaphor and an appropriate place to end. I added “Then along came a spider” after my grief for the book written before the pandemic eased and I discovered hope and belief again. 

5. What is your daily writing routine?

I am not a routine person in any way and that applies to writing too. There are many days, weeks when I don’t write. I find that my need to make music often competes. When I am fully into music, I get blocked as a writer and the opposite happens too. My current living pattern is dictated by the need to finish translating. The Sweetness of Demons my new poetry collection to be published next spring by Vagabond Voices, is my response to fourteen of Baudelaire’s poems in Les Fleurs du Mal. We decided only a few months ago that a translation into English of the poems should appear together with the original French and my own poem. I am really enjoying the challenge of working in two languages…excavating the original French word to find its true sense and then seeking the best match in English. But as one commentator said… it was Pichois I think, Baudelaire is untranslatable! 

So, I write in blocks of time that’s to say, once I start, usually a first line of a poem, then I can’t stop or leave it alone until I feel it’s the best it can be for now.

6. Why are the essay titles in “Spiders” in lowercase?

Because I wanted the book to be intimate… open and fluid…to start  a conversation and I wanted to remove any sense of formality.

7. How do the writers you read when you were young influence your work today?

Not really at all. As I said, I have a great admiration for the aesthetic be it in writing, artwork or music and I think its place is maybe a conversation that writers might have. What is it? How do I recognise it? Is it relevant to today? Can rawness, directness and the aesthetic co-exist? But I am far more interested in young people, and in the language and currency of young creatives; what they work on, where they work, what inspires them and how they work. I very much want to know and understand how young people experience and connect with the world.

8. Who of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?

I have very much enjoyed Italian crime writing, Giuttari, Camilleri, Donna Leone and Umberto Eco. I have been chilled literally by Nordic Noir Larsson, Jo Nesbo, Mankell, I have been captivated and single minded in my reading of Kate Mosse’s amazing French trilogy… so well researched and native.  And I am very drawn always to magical realism…to Murakami, Zafon, Allende. One of the best books I have ever read was Love in a Time of Cholera, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez… sheer lyricism and immense dignity, like a Mozart Adagio or a Lera Auerbach Prelude. 

I enjoy literature from the Middle East, Khaled Hosseini and I have read several of Elif Shafak’s books and some feminist literature including Women Who Blow on Knots. A writer very well worth reading is Abukabar Adam Ibraim’s Season of Crimson Blossoms. I find Amor Towles’ books fascinating and as a hybrid myself, Kassabova’s Border. 

As an educationist, I found Darren McGarvey’s Poverty Safari trenchant, challenging and right on … for the middle class education establishment and for politicians it was a head blow… a directive to get real and start to legislate and free up resources for the deprived and “hidden under the covers”  majority in Scotland. 

Elena Ferrante gave me permission to write about Italy and an upbringing in an Italian home with raw honesty, a first in Scotland. And so, I admire her for that, for her convincing portrayal of Italian life in the South. Some of that I can relate to very well, having seen some of it. And an author whose work apart from Murakami whose writing has such strength and dignity, I would place at the top of my list is Karl Ove Knausgaard whose six volume autobiography I have read from cover to cover. From the smallest detail, he takes us on a journey of memories and layer by layer, reveals intimate aspects of who he is… his vulnerabilities, his fears and his aspirations. His writing is clear, accessible…relatable to as a human being and fascinating. His writing is like a French film where the sound of  putting down a coffee cup hangs significantly in the air and leaves you in suspense. 

The essayists who have inspired me have been among others, Caitlin Moran, almost all of whose books I have read; Roxane Gay and Mary Beard. I found Samantha Irby’s book Wow No Thank You interesting though it was launched after my own book of essays was finished. But generally, I found all of these essayists hugely funny, challenging, impressively honest and political. I have to mention Rebecca Solnit’s epic Men Explain Things to Me, a book which gave me the language to express what I had been feeling for many years. 

I am a huge fan of bell hooks an academic who writes about gender and race issues…she was a huge influence when I was writing my own thesis “Teaching To Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. 

My poetry idols range from among many, Seamus Heaney, Yevtushenko (both of whom I have heard reading in person), Andrew Greig, Sharon Olds and Kathleen Jamie. Jay Whitakker’s poetry is economic, precise, exquisitely crafted and so eloquent and I love Janette Ayachi’s work, a creative avalanche of words which rock, make you laugh, make magic. Maybe like a Philip Glass sonata with pace!! I love rupee kaur’s milk and honey,,,,,real, direct and very moving. Some of these really make me shiver. 

9. What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?”

If you want to be a writer, just sit down and write. I am trying to decide as I answer this question, whether or not I wanted to be a writer. I certainly wanted to write! Various things come to mind to help the writing process … working out the best space to write in
and that may be a tent or a coffee shop; that space may vary from day to day; the best time… your most creative time; keeping all your notebooks and revisiting them from time to time and so on. Trying not to panic when no words come and other people you know are writing every day… getting events and getting published. 

It is ultimately quite a solitary life and despite all the smiles and blandishments, you will find who your true friends are… those around you who are genuinely pleased for you when things go well. It is your journey. You need to stay steady, keep believing in yourself at the same time being realistic; the world isn’t waiting with bated breath to read what you have to say! There are always disappointments… and if one or several publishers don’t want your stuff, there may still be one who does!! 

I think one question is an important one to consider… why do you want to write? Is it self expression, a catharsis? Is it to bring to light a human experience and explore it? For me, ever the educator, I see my writing as a space for conversation… I write to start that conversation; and my books are only one part of communication between me and others, the other part is when the book becomes live through events that bring people together to share. If you like, the book creates a little community of practice and commonality which makes us all feel better, understood, valued… not alone in our life experience. 

Lastly, it is never too late… there is no best time or best age and every voice brings something important… the trick in being heard, is to continually craft, mould and sculpt so that we can be best heard. That is always the challenge when you write. And we constantly seek but never find perfection but you can’t stop trying.

10. Tell me about the writing projects you have on at the moment.

I have only this week, completed a two year project on Baudelaire. I sent the manuscript The Sweetness of Demons off to my publisher yesterday. It’s been a wonderful journey involving my 14 poems in response to the poems that touched me most in his Les Fleurs Du Mal. But as well as that creative process which really consumed me, I also set about translating the original French … also I believe a creative process! It was so satisfying getting to the heart of Baudelaire’s language and images and summoning all my linguistic and writing ability to render his wonderful, impressionist verses. He is known, despite all the translations, to be untranslatable! What is elusive, is combining the image and the sound. 

I am about to start putting a poetry pamphlet together but haven’t worked out what final direction that will take. Maybe a book on food which is one of my passions as a hybrid… an Italian Scot. I have a wonderful connection with the University of Catania where Language of My Choosing, my first book, is on the set curriculum; and they have invited me to go over in May hopefully, to work with colleagues and students currently researching ‘hybridity’..how that changes your life view as you live on borders.

I am honoured to announce my recent elevation to the Scottish Poetry Library’s digital catalogue of Scottish poets and this month I am the Featured Writer in the Federation of Writers Scotland. I have several online “events”/conversations, interviews, arranged, to showcase my new book Keeping Away The Spiders and I hope to expand that outreach. While the loss of live events is a drastic loss… the wonderful get-togethers and readings… zoom gives a much broader, international opportunity and I am hopeful that we can use that tool, even in better times, to great advantage.

11. Once the have read “Spiders” what do you hope the reader will leave with?

Once they have read the essays I want the reader to leave with a sense of empowerment, optimism and a lust for life and adventure; to greet each day afresh. I want her to feel that she can be whoever she wants and that whatever she wants, what ever makes her happy, lies within her. We can almost always find freedoms, sometimes very small ones, and always space for some manoeuvre. During the pandemic, like all of us, I have felt terrible despair; I weep at loss of all that was; I give myself a hard time over all that I took for granted. I hate myself for that. But I know too that I found lovely experiences too. Small nuggets of unexpected joy and different ways to go. 

I want the reader to believe that identity is flexible, malleable and a matter of choice and response to whatever is around. 

Paul Freire sees education as the attainment of a powerful democracy. As an educator I know that transformation is always possible; it changes lives; profoundly changes who you are. And as a not very good Buddhist, I know that all things will pass. 

Lastly, I do want the reader to open up these conversations with those of us around, for the good of us all.

Review of ‘Lost and Found’ by Vic Pickup

Nigel Kent's avatarNigel Kent - Poet and Reviewer

In what has been a difficult year for us all, how refreshing to read a collection as life-affirming and positive as Vic Pickup’s debut pamphlet, ‘Lost & Found’ (Hedgehog Poetry Press, 2020).  Though her poems acknowledge life’s difficulties, they draw attention to the things we might take for granted,  inviting the reader to see them afresh and to value them.

‘What it meant for the women’ is typical of the collection. Whilst many poems about Lockdown by other poets have focussed on the negatives of this imposed isolation, Pickup values the opportunity to slow down, to take a break a break from oppressive routines and to re-evaluate. The poem ends with the women she describes ‘stood outside in the world’ and listening ‘for what seemed/like the first time’, noticing and able to take delight in the world around them.

This is very much what Pickup herself does in…

View original post 622 more words

#InternationalMigrantsDay artwork and poetry challenge. Have you made artworks about migrants? The theme is “We (live) together” We create together. Have you written unpublished/published about migrants. Please DM me or send a message via my WordPress Site.

Awake at
(After Wendell Berry)

Lying awake images of Yemeni children
Syrian babies, Ebola ridden souls, the hopelessness
The helplessness, ravaged by man-made tsunami of wars
Innocent lives pitted against grace and goodness
of humanity. I lay awake, look into the dark hoping
for the earth and mankind to heal.

Dreaming, waking, tossing, turning,
Awake, cogitating, restless mind spooling
As the earth spins on its axis, the universe
Is at peace, its ritual goes on apace, no change.

Diaspora

One book closed, another opens, a new leaf each day
a dangerous crossing on the Mediterranean sea,
experiences new, strange sea, enervating
new language, sounds, melodies, tastes to savour
slowly settling to a new rhythm, adapting to change.

The memories flash in the inward eye, shadows never
forgotten, picking an old book, thoughts like a flowing river
invisible, shimmering in the starry nights, dream scenes
On the sea, waves beating like silent drums, turning old pages
Dog-eared, much loved, scented, wrapped with emotion.

-Leela Soma

Harvesting in storms

We live in times of anger and hatred
a storm that flies in all directions
from left and right I feel battered
in days with no place for compassion
I read and hear the words of friends
and feel lost and out of time and place.

We the people decided to bomb
the poorest of the poorest peoples
their lands reduced to rows of tombs
leaving them to stack the bodies
in the wreckage of others graves
and wait the churning of another raid

We the rich nations bomb the poor
destroying cultures and rich traditions
such tragedy, there’s no irony here
the rich people’s barren conditions
supported by a false philosophy
that simply maintains exploitation.

So we bomb the poorest nations
and contrive a façade of surprise
that people should desert devastation
want to walk away to cross seas
to risk their lives, lose everything
and want to live a life in peace.

Poets and writers take real care
there is a need now to avoid
words that amplify the heat of despair
death stares back at us from the void
and invites an endless state of war
Is this the legacy we leave our children?

Is this a solution?

Dropping bombs
Intelligent missiles
Collateral damage.

Dropping bombs
Intelligent missiles
Reaper drones.

Collateral damage
Intelligent missiles
Reaper drones.

Intelligent missiles
Reaper drones
Is this a solution?

Reaper drones
Is this a solution?
Collateral damage.

Is this a solution?
Destruction death
Homelessness, starvation.

And then the tide
Of dispossessed
On a Mediterranean shore.

Lament for the Girl of the Morning Sea.

A premonition of merciful peace has emerged
In the morning of this day.

And as if in agreement
Your hand opens to the waves.
In a movement of gratitude,
A moment of quiet acceptance.
I have heard you sing
To the waves crests,
Rise, rise from your depths
Rid me of all pain
I am alone wash over me.

In this bright early hour
You are at once transformed.
Peace adorns you,
Rests on your face.
I have seen you whisper
To the open sky
Touch me, cleanse me
Rid me of all fear.
I am alone wash over me.

Your hair hangs tangled
Stiffly on your eyes,
Green-water droplets
Trickle to your lips.
Your fingers grasp
The waters edge.
The shoreline pierces you,
Welcomes you, calls to you.
I am alone wash over me.

And you lying unseen
A curved silken spine
Broken by spite
The savagery of indifference
And the brutality
Of unmourned death
Move without moving.
Knowing nothing, knowing nothing
In your quiet sadness.
I am alone wash over me.

I have heard you sing
To the waves crests’
Rise from your depths
Rise from your submerged stillness.
I have heard you sing
To the open sky,
Touch me, cleanse me,
Rid me of all pain,
Rid me of all fear.
I am alone wash over me.

Your mother cries for you in her silence
And mourns for another in her isolation.
I am alone wash over me.

-Rob Cullen (18th May 1980.)

WP_20190717_15_25_00_Pro[42311] (2)

Photo by Paul Brookes

Our Edge

Each time it is a border,
an end of the road,
a new building,
where I am asked same questions
What’s your name?
Where are you going?
Why?

I am discovering my story,
remembering where I have
been, but I recall it as
a
border,
an end of the road,
a new building,
where I am asked same questions
“What’s your name?
Where are you going?
Why?”

Daddy

A soldier moves Dad
with the butt of his rifle.

Why, Dad?

They don’t know where
we belong. he says.

Any English Here?”

Are there any English here? a woman shouts to market day shoppers
in Peel Square before joining
a bewhiskered chap holding
large 7 up bottle perfumed with ale.

Me garden were best on street,
gorgeous Azaleas, Petunias, Roses.
Started disappearing. Spotted immigrants across road in rented. Challenged them.

“You English think
you own everything!”
they told us.

Thirty years down
mines to get this, cock.
Thirty bleeding years.
I own me house, cock.

“You English think
you own everything”

Abroad for a better life.
Abroad for an easier life.
Abroad where we are worth more.
Proud of who we are.

-Paul Brookes (All published by the late Reuben Woolley on his “I Am Not A Silent Poet”)

Day 17: Advent for Mad Sweeney

sarahsouthwest's avatarSarah writes poems

ADVENT FOR MAD SWEENEY

Coldest now up this tree,
shagged by ice and wind
and haled by high moonlight.
Halcyon, yes, if you’re dead.
Or leaning that way, re-learning
Advent in the bittering slog
of freezing winter nights.

Below and beyond I see
warm lights, chimneys billowing
fire-smoke and children caroling
house to house their Christ.

How I miss those cloistered
enclosures where a man
was everything he said
and a sword’s amen
counted for everything
in the pile of heads.
The mead and the feasting,
the white breasts of the maid,
all festively enveloped in
songs for the King.

Christmastide beckons
to all that’s lost inside:
But not so tonight
for this man of the mound,
exiled by the new God
to a cold aerie’s cross
far from hearth of
a welcoming mind.

Here where the wind
bleeds stars onto branches
and the wolf howls Jesu
I’m wild and…

View original post 101 more words

Day 16: Wintertide

sarahsouthwest's avatarSarah writes poems

Wintertide
is here again:
solstice festival
sanctified
by choral singing
carols ringing
through the starlit streets
except for this time.

This bleak midwinter
all the streets shall fall
silent and all the carols
we must carry in our hearts;
gone are the jolly Christmas suppers,
stripped
the wintertime tree-branches
down to their bare bones.

Take heart:
draw a deep breath
and spare a thought
for all you have,
for those who live alone;
alone we enter this world
so they say, alone
we make our exit,
yet the miracle may be
to find ourselves
this wintertide
embraced by lovingkindness
unexpectedly.

Thank you to Ingrid for this covid Christmas poem.

Ingrid writes poetry, short fiction and journals athttps://experimentsinfiction.com. She has had her poetry published in several anthologies, and also by Spillwords Press, Free Verse Revolution and Secret Attic.

She enjoys collaborating with other writers and encouraging poetic creativity with…

View original post 12 more words

Re-packaging ‘percussive’ Ted Hughes

martyn crucefix's avatarMartyn Crucefix

Anthologies are the reluctant poetry readers’ hedging bet. There’s a good chance that something good will turn up and prove a winner. They sell well – they are the infrequent poetry buyer’s punt for a gift that will please at least in parts. So Alice Oswald’s compilation of Ted Hughes’ animal poems into a Bestiary will certainly put more cash into the Faber vault. But few complaints – anything to get more people reading any poetry cannot be bad.

Ted-Hughes-001

Oswald discusses her approach to the selection in The Guardian: 

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/aug/29/ted-hughes-alice-oswald-animal-poetry-bestiary

She picks up Hughes’ own early image of his poems as creatures with a “vivid life” of their own. He condemns poems which fail to possess this coherent vitality as likely to walk with a pronounced limp – a wonderful way, I’ve found, of imaging that elusive ‘rightness’ of a poem for students and workshoppers. Interestingly though, there is a…

View original post 473 more words

The Month of the Drowned Dog: Ted Hughes’ ‘November’

martyn crucefix's avatarMartyn Crucefix

Though November has just transformed itself into December here, still Ted Hughes’ sodden, rain-soaked poem from Lupercal (1960) comes to mind as I watch the TV footage of floods in the North-West of England. I’ve never thought enough attention has been given to the role of the narrator in this poem. It’s one of the selected poems studied on the Cambridge International Examinations’ A-level. Students are asked to discuss one specific poem in detail or two poems from a more thematic perspective. What follows is a loose version of the first type of question (apologies for some loss of formatting in the poem itself). NB. For another close discussion of an early Ted Hughes poem – ‘Meeting’ – click here.

The month of the drowned dog. After long rain the land
Was sodden as the bed of an ancient lake,
Treed with iron and bird less. In the sunk lane

View original post 1,423 more words

14 Ways to Write an Ekphrastic Poem

martyn crucefix's avatarMartyn Crucefix

Update (June 2019): I have written more on ekphrastic choices in a recent review published in Agenda Poetry.

Ekphrastic poems (ie. poems stimulated by visual art) are on my mind a great deal as I have been planning the all-day workshop I have been asked to run at the Holburne Museum in Bath on the 25th February, 2017. This particular exhibition, ‘Breughel: Defining a Dynasty’, opens on the 11th February and was in the news recently as it will include, among many others, a newly-rediscovered painting by Peter Breughel. I’ve been reading a variety of poems derived in some fashion from the poet’s encounter with visual art and I wondered if there was a way of categorising the various approaches. There are probably many – but these 14 ways (in 5 subgroups) are what I have come up with and they might usefully serve as a way to…

View original post 1,159 more words

Tony Harrison’s ‘Them and [uz]’

martyn crucefix's avatarMartyn Crucefix

Last week I posted on Tony Harrison’s ‘A Cold Coming’. The following discussion of another extraordinary Tony Harrison poem originally appeared in book form in Tony Harrison: Loiner (Clarendon Press, 1997), edited by Sandie Byrne.

imgres

‘Them and [uz]’ – listen to Harrison read this poem here.

for Professors Richard Hoggart & Leon Cortez

I

αίαι, ay, ay! … stutterer Demosthenes

gob full of pebbles outshouting seas –

4 words only of mi ‘art aches and … ‘Mine’s broken,

you barbarian, T.W.!’ He was nicely spoken.

‘Can’t have our glorious heritage done to death!’

I played the Drunken Porter in Macbeth.

‘Poetry’s the speech of kings. You’re one of those

Shakespeare gives the comic bits to: prose!

All poetry (even Cockney Keats?) you see

‘s been dubbed by [Λs] into RP,

Received Pronunciation, please believe [Λs]

your speech is in the hands of the Receivers.’

‘We say…

View original post 1,826 more words