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John

This is the place of passing delight,

Where souls are lost at dead of night.

This is the place of lust and sighs,

Where something in each man dies.

This is the place of creaking boards,

Where men unsheathe their mighty swords.

This is the place of guys called John,

Where satisfaction, once obtained, they are gone.

 

 

The Personal In Poetry

Recently I asked an acquaintance whether, in her opinion my poetry “is to personal?” She responded that poetry is, by it’s very nature personal and that my writing does not, in any case fall into the category of overly personal poetry.

The above conversation started me pondering on what a poet’s work says about the writer. The first point which must be made is that the mere fact of writing about a topic does not imply that the poet has any involvement in it. For example he may write about boxing or stamp collecting without ever having participated in either activity. One must be careful therefore not to draw erroneous conclusions that A must be somehow involved in Z merely owing to A expending much ink on Z. Having entered the above caveat, it is undoubtedly true that much poetry is personal and by immersing ourselves in the poet’s work we gain an enhanced understanding of both the poet and his poetry.

In his poem, “Aubade” Philip Larkin describes waking at 4 am, looking around his room and thinking about death, from which none of us can escape, try as we might to hide from the fact of our own mortality. Larkin’s poem is intensely personal, “I work all day and get half-drunk at night …”. Larkin describes religion as a “moth eaten brocade” and his lack of religious conviction adds to his fear of death. Larkin’s fear of the grim reaper is intensely personal and the brilliance of Aubade lies in the manner in which the poet communicates his dread of “unresting death”. (For an interesting article on the poem please see http://www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/columnists/anwilson/3554550/Philip-Larkins-almost-perfect-poem.html).

Ernest Dowson’s Cynara is another profoundly personal poem. In it the poet describes his encounter with a prostitute,

“All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,

Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;

Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;

But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,

When I awoke and found the dawn was grey:

I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion”.

Dowson’s hedonistic lifestyle, “I called for madder music and stronger wine” is an attempt to escape from the memory of Cynara, the poet’s unrequited love interest. Despite Dowson’s attempts to blot out the recollection of Cynara she remains ever present, a kind of Banquo’s ghost at the poet’s parties. Dowson’s life was cut short (he died at the age of only 30). Yet he left behind the wonderfully moving and personal Cynara.

In conclusion it can be seen that poetry can (and frequently) does reveal much about the poet. Indeed it is virtually (perhaps entirely) impossible to write poetry without revealing something of oneself. However, as pointed out earlier in this post we should not conclude that writing about a subject necessarily implies that the writer is somehow a participant in the matter being described.

One Night Stand

The passage of time muddles the brain, I don’t recall your name.

Perhaps Marie or Melisa, no matter its all the same.

Though some would consider it shocking, it meant absolutely nothing,

You kept on your stockings,

I feared my neighbours knocking.

It signified everything and nothing,

A girl in suspenders and stockings.

 

 

London Rain

The platitudinous things people say,

The rain will wash them all away.

The rat race of a London day,

The rain will cleanse this all away.

Rain, nature’s balm to a troubled mind,

Within us inner peace we find.

A quiet place in which to dwell,

Aloof from this London hell.

 

 

New Sharing Buttons Added To Newauthoronline

Thanks to a suggestion from Chris Graham (http://thestoryreadingapeblog.com/), I have now added several buttons to my blog allowing readers to share content more easily. Twitter and Facebook are now joined by Pocket, Reddit, print and email. Thank you Chris for the great suggestion!

For information on how to add sharing buttons to your WordPress site please visit (https://en.support.wordpress.com/sharing/).

Shower

Time, as the shower runs away.

Will she not stay?

Each line upon the face,

Speaks of her fading grace.

The girl’s  plaster smile.

He is in denial.

“Will you remain a  while?”

He asks.

 

“No, this can not last.

I see the chasm yawning vast.

The hours,, like sand run away.

The dawn rises, I can not stay”.

 

 

Ebooks Are Changing The Way We Read And The Way Novelists Write

A thought provoking article in today’s guardian (10 August 2015). The author argues that in a world subject to multiple online distractions the way in which we read books is changing. Readers now flick between messages from friends back to their ebook rather than, as in times past devoting their whole attention to a book. In effect our attention span is less than was the case prior to the proliferation of technology, particularly mobile devices. The author also contends that ebooks are changing the way in which authors write. For the article please visit, http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/aug/10/ebooks-are-changing-the-way-we-read-and-the-way-novelists-write?CMP=share_btn_link