Epigram Sam

'Poetry For Dummies' (bless it) defines an epigram as: "a very unified, sharply pointed poem, often quite short".

Apart from my taking exception to the extraneous 'very' and 'sharply' (something is either unified or it's not, pointed or it's not) plus the fact that 'pointed' doesn't really get at an epigram's inherent wit or humour, the definition is spot on! That said, there is often confusion as to what is an epigram as opposed to an epigraph or an epitaph or even a punchy joke (aka the smart-arse one-liner). Simply - an epitaph is an inscription on a grave or headstone, an epigraph is a short quote as a header to a longer work (poem, chapter, novel) and an epigram may double as a punchy joke (if the form is right) but not all punchy jokes are epigrams.

Examples may help. My favourite epitaph is the one Spike Milligan insisted should appear on his grave stone: "I told you I was ill." Best epigraph award goes to "Most people ignore most poetry because most poetry ignores most people" from the frontispiece of Adrian Mitchell's 1964 'Poems'. And my favourite punchy joke, that is like an epigram but not, comes from Ken Dodd: "In Paris, the tables and chairs are out on the streets. In Liverpool we call that eviction."

Many talented and witty literary giants have written epigrams. The form started out as a  brief poetic inscription about the dear departed on graves in Ancient Greece (not to be confused with an epitaph, LOL) and only came to acquire its humorous/satirical intent in the days of the Roman Empire.

Latterly, Ogden Nash, Dorothy Parker and Oscar Wilde in particular have proved quite prodigious in their output of epigrams, but in my opinion, the daddy of them all was Mark Twain (real name Samuel Langhorne Clemens) - hence my epithet for him - Epigram Sam (with an obvious nod to Marc Bolan for those of you familiar with T.Rex).

Epigram Sam

Twain is responsible for hundreds of pithy sayings, some more unified, pointed and shorter than others. I'll make it easy on myself this week by quoting a few for your interest and amusement.What is striking about many of them is their continuing currency, even though they are over a century old. What does that say about the ways of the world? Here goes:

"I don't like to commit myself about heaven and hell; I have friends in both places."

"The political and commercial morals of the United States are not merely food for laughter, they are an entire banquet."

"Politicians and diapers must be changed often, and for the same reason."

"Often it does seem a pity that Noah and his party did not miss the boat."

"It is better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than to open it and remove all doubt."

"Where prejudice exists it always discolours our thoughts."

"You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus."

"Of all the animals, man is the only one that is cruel. He is the only one that inflicts pain for the pleasure of doing it."

"The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them."

"Always do right. That will gratify some of the people and astonish the rest."

I thought that knocking out a short poem in epigram form would be a doddle. It wasn't...

Marianismo
Between the pornography of type
And the typography of porn
The man made cult
Of the misandrist was born.

Which leads on to Dorothy Parker, so renowned for her quick wit that she was often challenged to compose an epigram on the spot, or at least to parody an existing one, using a word supplied by her audience as a prompt. My favourite was delivered (allegedly) on the occasion that someone challenged her powers with the word 'horticulture'. Taking barely a pause to think, she bounced back with the line "You can drag a whore to culture but you can't make her think".

I'll leave you with a parody (sadly not an epigram) that I fashioned out of one of Oscar Wilde's most famed quips:

"I have nothing to declare but my gnus" - Oscar Wildebeest

Thank you and goodnight. I hope you enjoy(ed) your extra hour in bed, S ;-)

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Worrying about Epigrams and Epigrams about Worrying

I have to confess that when I opted to do a guest blog this week I got my epigrams and my epitaphs in a bit of a twist.  There I was, all ready to write about what I’d have on my gravestone, what my mum wants on hers and what we inscribed on my dad’s newly installed bench in the local park. Now, dear reader, sadly you will never know. It was only because I started thinking the word didn’t sound quite right to this old and muddled brain that I googled it.  Just in time.

So……..Epigrams.

I’ve always been a worrier. My dad was a worrier, my mum is a worrier, one brother is but the other not so much. All my children are worriers, to various degrees. I worry about them worrying, and they worry about me worrying.  Our lives are one big wheel of worry.  The thing is, our worries are all different, generally individual and pertinent only to the worrier.  One person’s worry can be someone else’s ‘no probs.’  How I would like to be one of those people, like my other half, who sails through life without a care in the world. To him, my worries are often ridiculous, "but, what if...." kind of worries.  Even I know I'm ahead of myself but I can't seem to help it.  I do wonder if it comes with having a vivid imagination.  Whenever anybody is late home, or I hear of an accident within ten miles of where they are, before I know it I've already planned their funeral music and bought myself a black coat.

I remember, many years ago when I was about twelve, confiding in my dad that I was worried about something. Now, dad was usually pretty good at listening and trying to solve anybody’s problems. He would always offer support, either in the form of a letter (I still have several of these, in a drawer next to my bed, from various problematic times of my life. It seems there were quite a few, but his advice was always practical, thoughtful and relevant) or financial (there were a few of those back ups too). On a couple of rare occasions (under my mum’s influence, I’m sure) the two of them actually turned up on my doorstep: once when I was seventeen and working the summer season in Devon I had sobbed down the phone that I was homesick. By the time they arrived in Seaton the following day I was absolutely fine, and if I remember rightly, was found lying on the beach in a bikini, eyeing up boys, giggling with my friend and eating ice cream; the second time it really was a problem - I was going through a very bad period of depression - and I welcomed them with open arms. 

Anyway, back to my twelve year old self. I don’t remember what the worry was but I do remember my dad dismissing it fairly rapidly, ‘That’s nothing,’ he told me, ‘that’s not a big worry.’  I remember feeling a bit hurt that my problem had been waved away so casually. I went up to my bedroom, still thinking about it.  I understood that the worry was irrelevant to my dad, but I knew it was huge to me.  I marched downstairs and confronted him. 

‘There are no big or small worries,' I blurted out, 'a worry is as big as you think it is.’ 

I’m not sure if this is an epigram but fifty five years have passed and I do try to be sympathetic to other people's worries, however small and insignificant they appear to be.  Of course, there's always an exception to the rule.  I'm afraid my other half gets short shrift for football, Emmerdale or Coronation Street worries.  After all, he, himself has been a worry to me for forty odd years.  He needs to realise that worry is a lot bigger than a lost match or a missed episode.  

Or is it?  I'll have to ask him.

 

I went looking for my worry dolls.  I must be bad - I have two sets.

Looking for an epigram poem to go with this post, I came across the following which I thought was quite appropriate.

Sir I admit your general rule
That every poet is a fool
But you, yourself, may serve to show it
That every fool is not a poet.

Samuel Coleridge

Thanks for reading, and happy worrying....... Jill Reidy

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