I THOUGHT YOU WOULD FIND IT RIDICULOUS

I thought you would find it ridiculous
As others do so too
The way I go on and on and on and on to use
One thousand million billion zillion trillion words when
Only one or two need do
So I packed away my big heavy thoughts 
Compacted and crushed them into noughts
Until there remained
Three words true
That say quite simply
I Love You

(c) Stephen Evans 2016

Photograph, The Guardian.

The Guardian reports, "Geoffrey Hill, a poet regularly hailed as the greatest in the English language, died suddenly on 30 June at the age of 84".  

Hill was a supremely gifted poet and essayist.  Despite living for many years in the USA, he belonged to a long tradition of "English" poets, writing of England, its history and conventions; often framing these poems within his own experiences, many of childhood, having grown up in Bromsgrove, in the Midlands.   However, European history was not beyond his remit.  

His popularity suffered due a minsconception that his poems were inaccessable when in fact they were unpatronising ; respecting the audience's intelligence to use their own readings and skills of inference rather than hand out 'meaning' on a plate.  He was also accused of being earnest as cerebral as if these were flaws when in fact several readings of his poems revealed gentle self-mockery, self-effacement, humour, irony and joy for life. 

Below is one of Hill's better known poems. This choice seems fitting ,given the events of the last decade, wherein to  decry the horror and pain, runs the danger of petering to a tweeness and cliche where one senses a difficulty in expressing such outcry without sounding trite amid 'so many routine cries'.  This is one of the themes Hill explores in the poem, the dates given being that of the timeline of a Jewish girl, deported to a Concentration Camp.

Stephen

September Song

Related Poem Content Details

BY GEOFFREY HILL

born 19.6.32—deported 24.9.42

Undesirable you may have been, untouchable 

you were not. Not forgotten 

or passed over at the proper time. 

As estimated, you died. Things marched, 

sufficient, to that end. 

Just so much Zyklon and leather, patented 

terror, so many routine cries. 

(I have made 

an elegy for myself it 

is true) 

September fattens on vines. Roses 

flake from the wall. The smoke 

of harmless fires drifts to my eyes. 

This is plenty. This is more than enough. 

VOX POPPING IN WYTHENSHAWE CIVIC CENTRE YESTERDAY

Vox pop on the meaning of heritage.  Met so many lovely people passionate about history and heritage. A big thank you to John McCormack for filming and lightening-fast post-production.

BUXTON LIBRARY

Off to Buxton library today to finalise the second draft of my book. Probably unmarketable but it's been fun to write all the same.   Wish me luck!

MP MIKE KANE LENDS HIS SUPPORT TO OUR HISTORIES' DAY

MANCHESTER HISTORY FESTIVAL 6th June 2016

The Wythenshawe History Group is  holding an all-day event at Wythenshawe Library on the 6th June - details below.  If you are in the area (or country) or know people who are interested in local history and would like to come along and support it, please pass these details on.   

The Group (I am its Chair) is attending Manchester Town Hall on the 11th June where we have a stall and will be running presentations and displaying some of the artefacts we have in our collection, some dating back from the seventeenth century.  It would be great to see you on either (or both!) of these days.  Many thanks,  Stephen.

                      

INVITATION

As part of Manchester Histories Festival, the Wythenshawe History Group would like to invite you all to attend our Local History event at the

 Forum Library, Forum Square, Wythenshawe M22 5RX

on 6^th June between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m.

We will be in the Reference Library, first floor,

Conference Room (classroom) 1.

There will be people at hand to discuss all aspects of Wythenshawe’s history together with resources and artefacts to help you explore the origins of the ‘Garden City’ estate. There will also be presentations and displays about the beginnings of modern Wythenshawe. 

Refreshments will be available.

Please tell everyone you know about the event.

Everyone is welcome and we look forward to meeting you all.

The Wythenshawe History Group

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON WITH HAT

  Always like photographs of  the former Poet Laureate with a hat.  Was he ever at his most sensual and erotic in the poem (sonnet) below?


Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal, Now the White
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry* font:
The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me.

Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the Earth all Danaë  to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.

No Second Troy

No Second Troy

Related Poem Content Details

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Why should I blame her that she filled my days 

With misery, or that she would of late 

Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways, 

Or hurled the little streets upon the great, 

Had they but courage equal to desire? 

What could have made her peaceful with a mind 

That nobleness made simple as a fire, 

With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind 

That is not natural in an age like this, 

Being high and solitary and most stern? 

Why, what could she have done, being what she is? 

Was there another Troy for her to burn?

Persephone Jones

Persephone Jones

Despite what I tell the neighbours
You were never kidnapped
You just walked out
And I can't ever blame you
For I was such a lout

And when I came to my senses
Sober and chastened
Like a private eye I
Finally tracked you down
To where you were seeking shelter
On the shady side of town

And I begged for your forgiveness
And swore that I would change
Until finally I convinced you
To give me one last chance

But I fell by the wayside and
The temptation was too strong
And despite all my vows I'd change
I did you one more wrong

Without fuss and in silence
You just turned and walked away
And my world was turned upside down
And night replaced the day

But you can't doubt my persistence
And I came back and begged forgiveness
"Persephone, please please please!
Look I'm on my knees, I'll do whatever you say,
I'll change, I promise, just don't go away"

But you told me in no uncertain terms
That I'd really crossed the line
And I begged you for one final chance
And swore upon my worthless life
That I'd do whatever you wanted
If you would stay my constant wife

I listed all the ways I'd change
And for the first time ever
Asked about your needs
Which were small but as countless
As pomegranate seeds
And your eyes watched me intently
And you finally agreed
But subject to conditions
That you firmly put in place
That you'd stay with me only sometimes
As you needed your own space

I had no other choice
But to reluctantly agree
we sealed the deal with one kiss
And you returned, in part, to live with me

For six months I bask in summer
When you're back with me at home
But bear the bite of winter's teeth
When you leave to live alone

Such is the nature of our deal
You return in spring but leave in Fall
But I'd rather be some part of you
Than be no one at all.

Stephen Evans 2016

THE TEA CHEST, BUXTON

Going to the Spoken Words evening at the Tea Chest, Buxton, this evening.  Andrea and I thought it might be fun if we read a poem the other had written.  Hope I can do justice to Andrea's.

I've been busy writing several poems but I think I'll fall back on a couple of ones I've previously read.  If you're in the area, join us - you'll receive a warm welcome.