Poetry

The Divine Comedy – Looking into Heaven – Clive James

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Heaven (The Divine Comedy)
Canto 31 – lines 1 – 33

The form, then, of the saintly host of Christ
Was shown to me as being a white rose,
A perfect rose which, with His own blood, Christ
Has made His bride. But also there are those –
The other host – who, flying, see and sing
The glory of the Lord who holds their love
And goodness that has made them everything
They are, and there they are, at large above.
Just like a swarm of bees that first will dive
Into the flowers and then go back to turn
Their toil to nectar, treasure of the hive,
These ones I watched, for I was here to learn –
Descend headlong into the mighty flower
Of many petals, and then reascend
To where the love abides in all its power
Forever, and then, flying without end,
They swoop again, their faces living flame,
Their wings of gold, and for the rest, so white
Our fresh snow couldn’t hope to seem the same.
When they again went back down from the height
Into the bloom, they gave it, tier on tier,
The peace and order they had gained from how
They fanned their sides with wings. …

Translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy by Clive James

My interpretation of the above lines –

The form, then, of the saintly host of Christ
Was shown to me as being a white rose,
A perfect rose which, with His own blood, Christ
Has made His bride.

The host of Christ – a host is someone who presents … someone who invites and entertains … a master of ceremonies … and in the religious context the host of Christ is the consecrated bread … and the consecrated bread is the gift of Christ as the body of Christ created with his own blood – Dante represents this as a perfect white rose – it has to be white no other colour could represent Christ and it has to be perfect.

Christ has made this His Bride … the Bride of Christ gifted for the marriage of His Church through the consecrated bread (body)and wine (blood)… the words from the Anglican Communion Service define this union (marriage) – ‘We who are many are one body in Christ, for we all share in the one bread’ – the gift of life for all’. This marriage is a continual marriage as the world expands in population.

But also there are those –
The other host – who, flying, see and sing
The glory of the Lord who holds their love
And goodness that has made them everything
They are, and there they are, at large above.

Who are these ‘other hosts’ … my interpretation is that they are those that have been transformed to such an extent through the marriage of Christ that they themselves have become totally ‘Christ-like’ spiritually – and everything that they are comes from the Lord, they are flying and singing the glory of the Lord – angels also comes to mind, and they are at large –very much an active force.

Just like a swarm of bees that first will dive
Into the flowers and then go back to turn
Their toil to nectar, treasure of the hive,
These ones I watched, for I was here to learn –
Descend headlong into the mighty flower
Of many petals, and then reascend
To where the love abides in all its power
Forever, and then, flying without end,
They swoop again, their faces living flame,
Their wings of gold, and for the rest, so white
Our fresh snow couldn’t hope to seem the same.

The ‘other hosts’ are in a hive of activity being equated to the action of bees diving into the Christ-Host – the white rose – creating nectar, the treasure found in the gift of Christ and the treasure that they create returning that to the Lord (where love abides in all its power). The image of faces of living flame, wings of gold, and bodies beyond the white of snow try to give a physical representation to the spiritual transformation that has occurred – a living perfection of nature – and a nature that is dynamic and busy.

When they again went back down from the height
Into the bloom, they gave it, tier on tier,
The peace and order they had gained from how
They fanned their sides with wings.

Bees actually fan their wings when they come into the hive to control temperature. This is interesting for the implication is that the Christ-Host is supported by other hosts which give peace and order – supported by those that have become fully Christ-like.

This seems to portray Heaven and the Body of Christ not as an afternoon Sunday nap but a busy active expanding evolution.

Revolution (in the way we view creation)

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Revolution

James Ussher (1) calculated the starting point.
About 4004 years before the birth of Christ,
apparently at 9:00am on a Monday morning
in late October.

Thomas Guy (2) then annotated his holy bibles
enforcing this fact within the Church and for
years the populace believed his added words.
Then Darwin learnt that truth lies in geometry
and that a circle has no start or finish.

But if you believe in the ‘Big Bang’ theory
then everything is gradually losing energy.
Being in my latter years this is understandable,
my circulation not being what it once was.

However, we do have plenty of time up our sleeves
for our best scientists have predicted it will take
several billion years before the Sun expands and
drags the Earth within its heated arms.

So there may come a day when everything stops.
Perhaps at 11:15pm on a Saturday in September –
after the late night news.

T S Eliot plaque East Coker church

in my beginning is my end … in my end is my beginning
T. S. Eliot’s Memorial Plaque – East Coker Church, Somerset

Footnotes
1 James Ussher (4 January 1581 – 21 March 1656) was the Irish Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of All Ireland between1625 and 1656. He was a prolific scholar and church leader, famous for his chronology that sought to establish the time and date of the creation.
2 Thomas Guy (1644–1724) was a British bookseller, speculator and official publisher of bibles and from his wealth became the de facto founder of Guys Hospital in London.

It is unbelievable that the populace believed in such things for so many years. I wonder if the same is true for something in life today!

Morning Song – Sylvia Plath – Analysis

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Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I’m no more your mother
Than the cloud that distils a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind’s hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat’s. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.

Sylvia Plath (Feb 1961)

S1 – The first line of a poem is very important and this first start line is such a wonderful definitive statement on the start of life, that of the birth of a baby, and indeed relevant to life in general. ‘Fat’ and ‘Gold’ appropriate for fat signifies health in a baby as weight is so important for increase is eagerly sought by the mother. Gold signifies purity.

S2 – Voices echo at the birth usually a common joy resonates A museum signifies history and those of the old generation. Drafty (= draughty) generates an uncomfortable feeling and the ‘nakedness’ of the baby in this new environment increases the concern. The audience is a blank entity as far as the baby is concerned. The baby has no awareness of how he or she fits into the world – she is very much a new exhibit with everyone watching intently.

S3 – This is an interesting image expression to show the independence that exists between mother and child. A cloud trying to catch an image of itself as the wind quickly dissipates any such attempt.

S4/S5 – The mother is in constant awareness of the sound of the baby at sleep – akin to the sound of the sea in her ear. She wakes to listen for re-assurance. And it only takes one cry for an immediate response. ‘Stumble’ might indicate that the mother is tired from getting up to tend the needs of the baby or from keeping herself awake in her attentive concern.

S6 – I like the personification of the window square as it takes colour in a white frame and as it swallows the stars as dawn dissolves the night. The handful of notes belong to the baby, perhaps the starting voice of that independence referenced in the third stanza. Balloons of course are colourful and have happy child associations – and the healthy sounds of the baby are truly a bright ‘morning song’ to the mother.

Footnote – Cats do have clean mouths – due in part to the fact that the saliva in a feline’s mouth destroys germs and keeps the mouth clean. This is more powerful in cats than it is in humans and dogs, probably because cats use their mouths to clean themselves so often.

Here is a link to a YouTube reading of this poem by Sylvia Plath

You’re – Sylvia Plath – Analysis

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You’re

Clown like, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo’s mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fools’ Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.

Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our travelled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.

Sylvia Plath

Frieda Hughes, SP’s first child, was born on the first of April 1960. The poem infers conception was on the fourth of July. I think the poem was published after the birth – but the imagery could have been latent in SP’s mind while pregnant. Each stanza is nine lines.

The fish comparison flows through both stanzas. It starts with the foetus being ‘gilled like a fish’ indicating that it is very much in an underdeveloped state and ‘farther off than Australia’ in the second stanza reinforces the idea that it is at an early stage of development.

SP likens the foetus to fog, to a loaf, to a turnip, to a bud, to a sprat, to a prawn, to eels in a basket and to a Mexican bean. I think all of this imagery is quite appropriate to the shape and nature of a foetus as experienced by a woman, pregnancy being an experience that only a woman can understand.

‘Bent-backed Atlas’ – well he, or she, is certainly holding up his, or her, ‘world’. This is an immense thought considering the comparison of the smallest of being with Atlas.

The second stanza also shows excitement and anticipation as in ‘looked for like mail’. The last two lines are interesting. Birth is ‘right’ and natural and in the end can easily be seen as a ‘well-done sum’ – an accumulation of cells over time. The end product being all important. And to my mind birth is always a clean slate and the uniquenesss of the new arrival is given emphasis by ‘your own face’. Humanity is pure at this stage and of course we always hope the new generation will improve things.

Looking at some of the words –

Spool – a cylinder on which thread is wound
Sprat – a highly active small oily fish
Creel – wicker basket used to hold fish

Dodo – large extinct flightless bird
Atlas – primordial being holding up celestial spheres

Mexican bean – Mexican jumping bean contains lava in the bod causing the bean to jump
when heated
A clean slate – an opportunity to start afresh

Executive – John Betjeman – Analysis

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Executive

I am a young executive. No cuffs than mine are cleaner;
^ ^ ^ ^ ^/^^^ ^^/ ^ ^ ^^^
I have a Slimline brief-case and I use the firm’s Cortina.
^ ^ ^^^/ ^^ ^ ^ ^/ ^ ^ ^^^
In every roadside hostelry from here to Burgess Hill
^ ^^^ ^/^ ^^^ ^/ ^ ^ ^^ ^
The maîtres d’hôtel all know me well, and let me sign the bill.
^ ^^ ^^/ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^/ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
(aabb 15 syllable lines)

You ask me what it is I do. Well, actually, you know,
I’m partly a liaison man, and partly P.R.O.
Essentially, I integrate the current export drive
And basically I’m viable from ten o’clock till five.

For vital off-the-record work – that’s talking transport-wise –
I’ve a scarlet Aston-Martin – and does she go? She flies!
Pedestrians and dogs and cats, we mark them down for slaughter.
I also own a speedboat which has never touched the water.

She’s built of fibre-glass, of course. I call her ‘Mandy Jane’
After a bird I used to know – No soda, please, just plain –
And how did I acquire her? Well, to tell you about that
And to put you in the picture, I must wear my other hat.

I do some mild developing. The sort of place I need
Is a quiet country market town that’s rather run to seed
A luncheon and a drink or two, a little savoir faire –
I fix the Planning Officer, the Town Clerk and the Mayor.

And if some Preservationist attempts to interfere
A ‘dangerous structure’ notice from the Borough Engineer
Will settle any buildings that are standing in our way –
The modern style, sir, with respect, has really come to stay.

John Betjeman (1974)

This is a period piece clearly identified by those around in England in the sixties. I remember when the Ford Cortina was the latest and greatest. And having a slim line brief case was more important than any contents! (I joke).

There was a certain respect for the upper class even though this ‘yuppie’ is portrayed here as arrogant and boastful with superficial values and the need to keep up appearances – No cuffs than mine are cleaner – I also own a speedboat which has never touched the water.

A ‘yuppie’ is defined as a young urban professional. Note also that most people would work a nine to five day but this young fellow obvious enjoys his other life much more and manages to start at ten.

But not only does he suffer mockery, corporate speech and corruption take a light hearted beating too. P.R.O = Public Relations Officer and ‘integration’ the in-word in corporate development. And it is a case of knowing the right person and using such influence for personal gain – and is that so different from the way many people operate today?

The poem has well-constructed rhythm and rhyme which bounces the monologue before the reader. You can imagine the conversation taking place at one of the hostelries frequented by this person as he pursues his interest in looking for real estate opportunities. And the implication is that he does not pay his way easily – and let me sign the bill.

I like ‘Mandy’ as a choice of name – do you remember Mandy Rice-Davies and the ‘Profumo Affair’.  Mandy would have such public association for those reading this poem at the time it was published.

Betjeman has been cited as a poet of nostalgia with a dislike of the modern. This is clearly evident in this poem. He certainly mocks the bull-nose development of his day and although it is period piece it also has a certain resonance with modern times.

John Betjeman was Poet Laureate from 1972 until his death in 1984. This link gives more detailed commentary on his poetry.

… and a link to John Betjeman on Wikipedia.

I ask you – Billy Collins

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I ask you

What scene would I want to be enveloped in
more than this one,
an ordinary night at the kitchen table,
floral wallpaper pressing in,
white cabinets full of glass,
the telephone silent,
a pen tilted back in my hand?

It gives me time to think
about all that is going on outside–
leaves gathering in corners,
lichen greening the high grey rocks,
while over the dunes the world sails on,
huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.

But beyond this table
there is nothing that I need,
not even a job that would allow me to row to work,
or a coffee-colored Aston Martin DB4
with cracked green leather seats.

No, it’s all here,
the clear ovals of a glass of water,
a small crate of oranges, a book on Stalin,
not to mention the odd snarling fish
in a frame on the wall,
and the way these three candles–
each a different height–
are singing in perfect harmony.

So forgive me
if I lower my head now and listen
to the short bass candle as he takes a solo
while my heart
thrums under my shirt–
frog at the edge of a pond–
and my thoughts fly off to a province
made of one enormous sky
and about a million empty branches.

Billy Collins – American Poet Laureate 2001 – 2003

I love how Billy Collins takes the ordinary in life and colours it with his wild imagination combining the seemingly disconnected everyday scraps of existence into a worthy world of word pleasure – laying his work before us in his own inimitable style – always there is a touch of the unusual in his offerings as well as a philosophical acceptance of the foibles in human nature – plus that essential ingredient subtle humour.

And looking at the above ‘I ask you’ poem. I do like poetry that poses a question – even if he is talking to himself – isn’t it marvellous when we are content where we are in life?

And considering the second stanza –

while over the dunes the world sails on,
huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.

And of course the world does sail on the ‘waters’ of the past – but hopefully we make a bit of headway as the future disappears behind us and we add to the flow – but let the world sail on – and not worry about all the problems that beset our troubled world!

He shows his poetic skill to give the contrast between a few moments in a kitchen compared to all history … and those few ordinary moments, where you have time to yourself and to think, can be so precious and rejuvenating in the busy world of today.

Enjoy your own presence in the warm comfort and intimacy of your own being – where ever you are – and so I ask you to just sit back for a few moments … and I hope you can take a deep breath and slowly say to yourself life is very agreeable, in fact quite beautiful!

Japanese Maple – Clive James – Comments

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Clive James is nearing the end of his life. Last year he wrote the poem ‘Japanese Maple’ and he had time to put a lot of thought into the text. It is very much a testimony of his personal state at that time as he considered his approaching ending.

I have broken the poem into six stanzas of four lines and then the closing line. My comments in italics …

‘Japanese Maple’

Your death, near now, is of an easy sort.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ / ^ ^ ^^ ^
So slow a fading out brings no real pain.
^ ^ ^ ^^ / ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
Breath growing short
^ ^^ ^
Is just uncomfortable. You feel the drain
^ ^ ^^^^ / ^ ^ ^ ^
If you have read his ‘Poetry Notebook’ you will be aware how much he appreciates form and it is not surprising to encounter rhyme and rhythm and the attention to the syllable structure. But what I like is the break in the third line corresponding to his difficulty in breathing. You can join his shortness in breath when reading that line. Clearly, at the time of writing, he was not in pain.

Of energy, but thought and sight remain:
Enhanced, in fact. When did you ever see
So much sweet beauty as when fine rain falls
On that small tree

In fact he is experiencing a golden time in the highlighting of his senses. And looking at the Japanese maple in the light rain gives great joy – he obviously has to spend time sitting observing because of his failing health. And again we see that short line occur.

And saturates your brick back garden walls,
So many Amber Rooms and mirror halls?
Ever more lavish as the dusk descends
This glistening illuminates the air.

And he can watch the changing garden as night approaches and find delight in little things such as the way the falling light picks up the wet precipitation. (The Amber Room is a world famous chamber decorated in amber panels backed with gold leafs and mirrors, located in the Catherine Palace of Tsarskoye Selo near Saint Petersburg. – from Wikipedia)

It never ends.
Whenever the rain comes it will be there,
Beyond my time, but now I take my share.
My daughter’s choice, the maple tree is new.

This time the short line is at the start. Reflective words on not being around – nature will continue regardless of his demise – then reflecting again, this time bringing to mind his daughter who chose the tree.

Come autumn and its leaves will turn to flame.
What I must do
Is live to see that. That will end the game
For me, though life continues all the same:

Then looking to the future, how the tree will look in autumn and setting a goal to see the autumn colours– that will be sufficient. (He did achieve this).

Filling the double doors to bathe my eyes,
A final flood of colours will live on
As my mind dies,
Burned by my vision of a world that shone

He know equates his very last days with the ‘flood of colours’ – colours that will live on. His mind is ‘burned’ showing how much value he has taken from the world – a shining world -and more recently appreciating the ‘flame’ of the tree.

So brightly at the last, and then was gone.

And the last line with emphasis on how much joy he has encountered in his end days. It is interesting that his enforced change of pace due to illness has given him a new perspective on life and time to really appreciate his limited environment and to look back on the beauty of life with gratitude.

Clive James

Rhyming scheme – abab bcdc ddea eaaf ghgg ijij j

Clive James would like to be more known as a poet and he is a very fine poet but I guess he will be better known as a broadcaster and commentator with that wry twist and sardonic humour. But this poem will surely be one of his classics.

Here is a link to his Website – http://www.clivejames.com/ and a link to information about Clive James on Wikipedia – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clive_James

‘Old Mother Hubbard’ – contemplation of text

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I recently came across a copy of ‘The Standard Comic Reciter’ – quite an old book and I have yet to find the date of publication (around 1900). But it contains the article ‘Old Mother Hubbard’ from ‘Children of Nature, A Story of Modern London (1878)’ by the late Earl of Desart (by kind permission of Ellen, Countess of Desart.) He was the fourth Earl and died in 1898. The Earl was a literary man who wrote 15 novels. The Countess of Desart went on to become a politician in her own right and died in June 1933, aged 75.

The whole article is an exploration of the first four lines of the well-known nursery rhyme ‘Mother Hubbard’.

‘Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cupboard,
To get her poor dog a bone;
But when she got there the cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.’

The article is dedicated to an interpretation of these lines with resultant meaning applicable to everyday life. Looking at the bare bones of his discourse (sorry about that!) with some added interpretation …

Old = the assumption made is that she is a widow and lives alone
She went = she did not deviate from her focus of intent
The cupboard = the emphasis is on the word ‘the’ indicating that she only had one cupboard and it had that important food function
Poor = poor to me indicates that the dog is hungry, an assumption is made that the woman is poor as well as the dog.
Mother = no mention is made of the fact she is a mother, whether or not her children are still around is another matter, and bound to the house as carer would be understood by those reading the text at the time it was written.

It is assumed that she went to the cupboard with an expectation of finding a bone.

She got there = she achieved her goal
Bare = but shock, shock the cupboard is bare – we don’t know whether the door was open or not – and whether she had other things in the cupboard – we don’t know how the bone disappeared (and whether any other contents left the sceene – cakes, sweetbreads, hams etc.)
So the poor dog had none = a matter of fact statement … the old woman, perhaps very disappointed, concludes her task and leaving it behind does not dwell on her situation – this is the key to the Earl’s thought in his concluding lessons …

To avoid being widows (if possible)
To have more than one cupboard (if possible)
To avoid keeping dogs fond of bones (well, all dogs like bones – perhaps some like them too much!)
To accept the inevitable with calm steadfastness … this is indeed the whole crux of the matter – acccept the situation and no matter what happens in life just move on – the full stop at the end of the line is so important!

How many people continue to dwell on something that has happened in their life and can’t move on! Bringing it up time and time again … and again …

And of course I must add another lesson – a lot can be gleaned from very little text! As I am sure that those that write Haiku and Tanka would surely agree.

Note … From Wikipedia – Earl of Desart was a title in the Peerage of Ireland. It was created in 1793 for Otway Cuffe, 1st Viscount Desart. He had already succeeded his elder brother as third Baron Desart in 1767 and been created Viscount Desart, in the County of Kilkenny, in the Peerage of Ireland in 1781.).

Note also – this nursery rhyme has been equated to Henry VIII and his attempt to influence the Catholic Church (Cardinal Worsley) to get approval for a divorce from Catherine of Aragon so that he could marry Anne Boleyn.