written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label Stephen Fry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stephen Fry. Show all posts

Thursday, 27 June 2013

Ut pictura poesis. What? Precisely.

Never one to miss an opportunity to exploit an online contact, I sent a message to Bloodaxe's Neil Astley back in April to ask him to recommend a book on poetics for me.  I've read Stephen Fry's Ode Less Travelled and Glyn Maxwell's On Poetry (thanks Jamie!) but beside the more academic books which were recommended at Blackpool & Fylde College, haven't read an awful lot around the subject.  I wanted something to get my teeth into.  His response certainly gave me that:

For reading or writing? For writing, Peter Sansom's Writing Poems. For reading and writing, The Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics which covers everything you could possibly want to know.
Neil


The former is a brilliant resource for its writing games (think workshop planning) and quick guide to some of the best contemporary poets with reasons why they rock.  This book therefore doubles as a bluffer's guide to the British poetry scene in the 21st century.  It has loads of practical tips, some of which are suitable for new writers wishing to learn the craft and others which give an 'Ohhh, yeah -that's what they're doing' moment for those who have been lingering on the scene for a while and wondering how the best poets do what they do.

The latter is an incredible tome which I dearly wish I'd bought in hard copy rather than for my Kindle.  You know the joy you get from flicking through an encyclopedia and picking out something fascinating at random?  This purchase led to the conclusion that e-books are definitely not superior to print.  There is so much information in this book and flicking through it in order is really unsatisfactory.  I'll try to give you an idea of what it covers:


Yes, that is half of the index page covering Al - An.  It's bloody amazing isn't it?  It gets me all hot and bothered that index.  Blackpool and Fylde doesn't have it in their library catalogue.  Nor does Blackpool Central Library.  I wonder if the wonderful folks at the Library Service could be convinced to order it for their burgeoning population of keen poets? 

As for my own recommendation, I'm going to plump for something a little closer to home.  Sculpted is an anthology edited and devised by the minds behind the North West Poets' group; Lindsey Holland and Angela Topping.  The contents page reads like a who's who of poetry from the north of England and every time I dip into it I end up lost in its pages for an unfeasibly long time.  This list includes Rachel McGladdery, Cath Nichols, David Riley, John Siddique; all poets who have written for the Dead Good Blog at some point.  The many other contributers are on my hit list for the near future.

Honorable mentions must go to the powerhouse of poetry that is Kim Moore (follow her blog for weekly in-depth poetry analysis and why not buy a copy of her book If We Could Speak Like Wolves - it's insightful, funny and full of carefully observed portraits) and V A Sola Smith who I am yet to meet but would love to shake by the hand, if only for the phrase 'the not-yet ghouls, tripping unseen about their fate' from her poem about kids in a seaside town, Poor Fish.  The book has an introduction from David Morley and the front cover bears the following quote from our poet laureate: "The North West is a hotbed of poetry.  If you want to know why, read this book."

Copies of the book can be bought via the Wordpress page.

Now, I don't expect to hear another peep from you until you've read all of the above.  Then we'll talk poetry.

Sunday, 19 August 2012

Poetic Form and other ‘arse-dribble’…

By Jennifer Lane

“If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree, then it had better not come at all”. John Keats said that, I’ll have you know. Or if you’re a closet fan of Hollywood biopics, it was uttered by a wispy Ben Whishaw. Whilst this is all very lovely, foppish, and just-lay-me-on-the-divan, it’s not always practical advice for everyday life. Keats probably never tried navigating Manchester town centre or working nine-to-five selling men’s knitwear. I’m sure he had too many clouds to gawp at.



We don’t all have the time to be lolling around, inspired; where every spilt dribble of espresso has an extra level of meaning. Whilst I’d love to be traipsing through bluebells (or even some realistic Astroturf), there aren’t many of us who can say we have a spare moment in the day.



Some might say that if you’re a poet in the busy busyness of the world, poetic form seems like a blessing.



Structure! Rhyming couplets! Enjambment! Just hook them to my veins! Having someone tell you how to formulate a poem can seem as straightforward as following the list for the weekly shop. You just have to fill in the blanks… right?



In his book, “The Ode Less Travelled”, Stephen Fry ordered legions of budding writers to embrace iambic pentameter: to take it into their bosoms and caress it like a slightly neglected, yet still loveable Labrador. But no, Stephen, no. As much as I am subject to your theatrical charms, I just can’t do it. Iambic pentameter is inarguably very impressive, and was extremely popular… about four-hundred years ago. But forcing language into this strict prescribed mould makes for stilted reading and some wincingly bad rhymes. Its painful de-dum-de-dums make me think of a Year Five literacy class, minus the promise of Play Doh.



John Donne always said that words “fetter’d in verse” are enhanced in meaning. But sometimes focusing too much on structure can leave the real meanings bedraggled and forgotten.

 

I am a massive fan of free-verse. I find it endlessly creative, thought-provoking and just a little bit fabulous. Mr Fry intervenes once more and labels it “arse-dribble” (a phrase which I do find a lexical dream); but this seems to be missing a point. Free verse gives free-reign to the imagination, and hey, if I want to use that twenty-seven syllable line, I bloomin’ well will!



Poetry has evolved away from the forced verse of Tudor courts. Although classic poetic form can still be appreciated in hushed gallery awe, throwing off a rigid format can give a poet more space to breathe. People are not structured – our lives are busy: overflowing. Maybe our poetry should be too.