Category Archives: Poetry

Poetry

The Way of It

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by R.S. Thomas

With her fingers she turns paint
into flowers, with her body
flowers into a remembrance
of herself. She is at work
always, mending the garment
of our marriage, foraging
like a bird for something
for us to eat. If there are thorns
in my life, it is she who
will press her breast to them and sing.

Her words, when she would scold,
are too sharp. She is busy
after for hours rubbing smiles
into the wounds. I saw her,
when young, and spread the panoply
of my feathers instinctively
to engage her. She was not deceived,
but accepted me as a girl
will under a thin moon
in love’s absence as someone
she could build a home with
for her imagined child.

I’m not a big fan of Thomas, but it is interesting to read his poetry after seeing another perspective put forth in his biography:

The brilliant artist that RS Thomas married virtually sank into obscurity in his shadow.

Mildred Elsie Eldridge became plain Elsi and a forgotten artist after she married Thomas exactly 66 years ago on July 5, 1940.

But just three years earlier, when she first met her husband-to-be, she was driving an open-top Bentley and he was an unpublished poet on a bike.

The Bentley reference falls flat, mostly because the pair subsequently lived a pauper’s life apparently at the insistence of Thomas who turned to religion and nationalism, and feared technology. Or was that the point of the reference? It’s so unclear, it seems like an awkward detail. Could the bicycle have been in fact a richer experience than the Bentley?

Anyway, the part of the story about the biography that really caught my eye was this revelation:

Rogers believes Elsi was the source of much of the muse that moved in Thomas, but the poet only ever mentioned his wife’s work in a single poem.

Rogers said, “I try to show the effect Elsi had on Ron. About 1940 he is writing gushy things about fairy lands and a few years later he is writing about grim Welsh peasants.

“Something made him grow up, and it’s something to do with Elsi.”

Is “The Way of It” that single poem that Rogers wants us to recognize? Thomas certainly seems very fond of his wife, and seems to put her in contrast to his own pained perspectives on life. Does growing up mean giving up? I wonder if there might be more pronounced references to Elsi lurking in his collection? Additional references could dispel Rogers’ argument regarding acknowledgment by the poet, yet prove a theory of connectedness at the same time.

History, Poetry, Security

China censors Guan Shan Yue from Disney movie

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I’ve been thinking about the news from Variety for a few days:

China Film initially said it had made no cuts, then declined to comment on a Beijing News report that it had cut scenes involving too much violence and horror.

[…]

It also cuts his reading of a poem by Tang dynasty poet Li Bai (701-762) called “Guan Shan Yue” (The Moon Shining Over the Mountain on the Border).

First of all, I am a bit unimpressed with that translation of the title. The poem is about separation and longing due to conflict — costs incurred by a point of control, from a security viewpoint. This makes me think of something like “The Moon Shines on the Mountain Border” or “The Moon Shines Over the Wall on the Mountain”, or maybe even “Moon on the Mountain Pass”.

Second, how does this have anything to do with the Beijing News mention of violence and horror? Variety mentions a censored poem and then stops. Perhaps they didn’t feel it necessary to research the rationale and the history of the poem’s importance, or just didn’t care to elaborate?

Here is a closer look at the issue. 300 Tang poems has a page called Tangshi II. 1. (38), where you can see the text of Li Bai’s poem as well as English and French interpretations. Note the title of the poem:
Guan Shan Yue

Here’s their version in English:

The bright moon lifts from the Mountain of Heaven
In an infinite haze of cloud and sea,
And the wind, that has come a thousand miles,
Beats at the Jade Pass battlements….
China marches its men down Baideng Road
While Tartar troops peer across blue waters of the bay….
And since not one battle famous in history
Sent all its fighters back again,
The soldiers turn round, looking toward the border,
And think of home, with wistful eyes,
And of those tonight in the upper chambers
Who toss and sigh and cannot rest.

And, since 300 Tang site conveniently explains all the characters, here’s mine:

Moonlight shines upon the mountain
bringing clarity through a deep blue sea of fog.
The constant winds from almost ten thousand miles
blow against the Jade pass garrisons.
China’s men climb upon an empty path,
as Tartar soldiers gaze across a blue-green sea.
Because great battles in history
never return all men to their beds,
many look back upon the garrison
with eyes of pain, and think of home.
Those who this night lay upstairs
toss and turn, they cannot rest.

History, Poetry

Strange Fruit

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MySpace is best when it’s showing off talent. Not just any talent, and definitely not the sort marked by a giant “approved by WalMart” advertisement, but the sort of talent that jumps forth and exceeds expectations. The value of the record industry is turned on its head when you pare back the layers of smarmy marketing, like eschewing the circus in favor of a troubadour act at the local cafe or pub.

Straight, no chaser, in drink terms, Maya Yianni is one of those to watch. I can’t get over the clarity of her voice.

Interesting that she includes videos of her idols on her page, perhaps for comparison. First is Ella Fitzgerald:

She also has Billie Holliday’s rendition of Strange Fruit, a poem by Abel Meeropol (1903 – 1986) written under the pseudonym Lewis Allan:

Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

The hidden irony of this particular song is that while Strange Fruit was popular after Holiday first sang it in a New York club in 1938, the major recording companies refused to produce it. Too controversial for her label, Columbia Records, a small record company (Commodore Records) finally published Holiday’s rendition. Today it is considered her signature song. A recent documentary tells the full story.

Another little bit of trivia is that a record company under the name Strange Fruit was formed in the UK the same year that the poet, schoolteacher and union activist Abel Meeropol passed away.