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

Showing posts with label clerihews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clerihews. Show all posts

Saturday, 15 April 2017

Closely Encountered Clerihews

Clerihews! What on earth? you may well ask... and several of you have.

If this week's theme has proved one thing, it is that very few have ever encountered a Clerihew.  So, at the risk of sounding like a David Attenborough script, let us creep up on the little known fellow and observe it closely. What do we espy?

The Clerihew is neat and it is whimsical, but surprisingly isn't shy. Its structure is simple: it's got four lines and it contains two rhymes; (the first line rhymes with the second, the third rhymes with the fourth - aabb). It is also biographical, inasmuch as it contains the name of a (more or less) famous person in the first line and then proceeds to say something apt or witty about that person. For example:

Sir Humphrey Davy
Abominated gravy.
He lived in the odium
Of having discovered Sodium.

That is reputed to be the first Clerihew ever composed by the man who devised the form, one Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956), while he was still a schoolboy in late Victorian London (and a classmate of G K Chesterton).

After  school and university (Merton College, Oxford), E C Bentley became a journalist, working for several newspapers including the Daily Telegraph and The Outlook (a particularly right-wing periodical). He also wrote humorous verse, per the template above, and published his first collection of Clerihews as 'Biography For Beginners' in 1905, which served to make the idiom popular and inspired several reputable poets to devise Clerihews of their own, including W.H. Auden.

Bentley couldn't stop churning them out and his initial volume was followed by two further collections, 'More Biography' (1929) and 'Baseless Biography' (1939), proving that there was a continuing public appetite for such witty little things.

Although the Clerihew is what Bentley is best remembered for (if he is remembered at all), that is a shame, because in my view his greatest service to literature was as a crime writer.


E C Bentley's detective novels, featuring the exploits of amateur sleuth Philip Trent, were much admired between the world wars and were championed by no less an authority than Dorothy L Sayers. With their clever and labyrinthine plots, they can claim to have blazed the trail for modern mystery fiction. They sold well as Penguin Mystery & Crime paperbacks and one of them, 'Trent's Last Case', was made into a very entertaining film in 1929 (and remade in 1952). From 1936 until 1949 E C Bentley was president of the Detection Club (for crime writers).

ECB - A Clerihew For You
I have to say I'm not a great fan of the Clerihew as a poetic form. It is slight and amusing and on a par with the limerick. However, I've swallowed hard and written one for E C Bentley himself and it goes like this...

Dear Edmund Clerihew Bentley,
There's no way of putting this gently.
You wrote great detective novels, it is true,
But when it came to poetry you didn't have a clue!

Well, let's hope we don't have to do that again in a hurry.

Thanks for reading, have a good week and may the Easter Bunny be bounteous, S ;-)

Thursday, 13 April 2017

Clerihews - don't lose your head!

Ah the clerihew.  I had a brief encounter on an OCNW 'B' Unit course in creative writing in 2007. For one poetry assignment in poetic form,  I applied my small brain to the task of writing clerihews and because I also have a love of medieval history, decided to write a series.  Form poetry can be challenging and fun.

When it comes to the romantic exploits of Henry VIII, the basic memory trigger 'Divorced, Beheaded, Died, Divorced, Beheaded, Survived', that has probably been indelibly etched on your brain since school days,  may not be sufficient information for immediate recall of the nature of such turbulent marriages. I hope that my clerihew series is enlightening, slightly amusing and useful to anyone who thinks that serial monogamy is the only way to fly. 

Take care though, a trip with United Airlines can be just as unpredictable.  At least passenger, 'unlucky number three', only got a thick lip and no doubt, a very good lawyer. These six, charming ladies had a far bumpier and more precarious ride: Two of them 'bumped off', one lost in transit and two others treated like baggage.  Here they all are, with my exhumed tribute.   




The Six Clerihews of Henry VIII

Queen Katherine of Aragon,
failed to bear her King a son.
Rome said no to his plea for divorce,
setting the church on a separate course. 

Vain, dark beauty Anne Boleyn,
accused of committing a deadly sin,
Inevitably she lost her head, 
for sleeping in another’s bed.

Best beloved, Jane Seymour,
Henry  was said to love, to adore.
All England shared in their joy
Sadly she died giving birth to a boy

King Henry’s next was Anne of Cleves,
hailed a political trick up his sleeves.
When she arrived, she was ugly as hell,
and very soon, Henry divorced her as well.

Young and carefree, Catherine Howard,
soon was branded a traitorous coward.
The terrible  scandal made Henry see red.
He stated, “Off with that strumpet's head.”

Lovely widow Katherine Parr,
most homely wife by far, 
loyal to the day that Henry died,
of six, the only marriage that survived.



Thanks for reading. Adele  

 

Sunday, 9 April 2017

Ignorance - a Constant Source of Embarrassment

13:08:00 Posted by Jill Reidy Red Snapper Photography , , No comments
The older I get, the more I realise, with quiet despair, how many things have passed me by in  life. 



I thought I was a woman of the world. I've travelled a bit, I speak another language (not very well, but enough to get by), I'm quite well read, educated to degree level, interested in art and poetry and writing and I've had three children toboot. 

So why, as I enter my sixty sixth year, am I sat here, on a sunny afternoon when I shouldn't have a care in the world, frantically googling the word, 'clerihews'? 

For anybody as ignorant as I am, here's the definition taken from Wikipedia:

clerihew (pronunciation: /ˈklɛrᵻhjuː/) is a whimsical, four-line biographical poem invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley. The first line is the name of the poem's subject, usually a famous person put in an absurd light, or revealing something unknown and/or spurious about them. The rhyme scheme is AABB, and the rhymes are often forced. The line length and metre are irregular. Bentley invented the clerihew in school and then popularized it in books. One of his best known is this (1905):

Sir Christopher Wren
Said, "I am going to dine with some men.
If anyone calls
Say I am designing St. Paul's."

Now, I don't know about you, but in the words of a well known song, 'That don't impress me much.'  I think if one of my year 6 pupils had presented me with that I'd have told them (in the nicest possible way, of course) to go back, have another look and see if they could improve on it at all. 

Maybe I'm missing something here and clerihews are hugely important to literature experts. Perhaps dear Edmund Clerihew Bentley was the Tracy Emin of the poetry world. Who knows? Certainly not I, in my ignorant little bubble. 

Do I feel I've missed out in my ignorance of clerihews? Nope. Has a lack of clerihews in my life held me back? Nope.  Will I need clerihews in the future?  I doubt it.  Am I glad I now know what a clerihew is?  Of course!  Knowledge is power (although I'm not sure this latest piece of knowledge will be massively empowering).  

I am genuinely thirsty for knowledge and for learning new things.  Today I have learnt what a clerihew is, and I'm sure that will stand me in good stead.  I shall attempt to squeeze the word into every conversation possible, whilst scrutinising the faces of the people I'm talking to, searching for puzzlement to match mine before today.  

Now I just have to write one.

Ignorance by Jill Reidy  

I was a Dead Good Poet
I just didn't know it
Ignorance of Clerihews
Really isn't merry news


Maybe it's not as easy as I thought....


Thanks for reading.........Jill