JRR Tolkien

Jun20

My #PoetryinJune spot has been taken over by dwarves today who have been busily tidying Bilbo Baggins’ kitchen, much to the poor Hobbit’s consternation. Fortunately nothing was broken despite the sound of the following verses. This is J.R.R. Tolkien’s (1892-1973) second appearance on The Landing as I featured the beautiful Father Christmas Letters in my Advent Reading Challenge last December.

I’ve taken the following text from my old copy of The Hobbit (Harper Collins, 1993) which my daughter has been recently re-reading. Last summer holidays, she tackled the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy with He Who Put the Shelves and Up, but I have to admit that I have never got around to reading it myself. Another one on the groaning TBR Pile I’m afraid.

Chip the Glasses and Crack the Plates

Smaug in his gold filled lair

Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
Blunt the knives and bend the forks!
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates –
Smash the bottles and burn the corks.

Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;
Pound them with a thumping pole;
And when you’ve finished, if any are whole,
Send them down the hall to roll.

That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!
So, carefully! carefully with the plates!

I was delighted to come across a recording on YouTube of J.R.R. Tolkien himself singing about Bilbo Baggins’ crockery. It’s only a short recording (I don’t know the date of the piece) but do give it a listen. Versions of Tolkien’s poem have been set to music in the film versions of The Hobbit, including the most recent one.

Perhaps I should set myself a Tolkien Reading Challenge? Or maybe I’ll just incorporate The Lord of the Rings into my existing Landing Book Shelves Reading Challenge as I have quite a queue of books yet to read!

YouTube Credit: Uploaded to YouTube February 2013 by MightyCrow19 – With Thanks

Jenny Joseph

Jun19

This morning, on my #PoetryinJune Reading Challenge, you have the delight of listening to Jenny Joseph (b 1932) reading her poem Warning in a clip that I discovered on YouTube. I’ve given the text below as well in case the piece is unfamiliar to you. This poem was published in 1961 and I came across it in the late 1990s when I was working in a Birmingham bookshop (as it happens Jenny Joseph was born in Birmingham).

In 1997, Warning was published as a stand alone piece with illustrations by Pythia Ashton-Jewell (Souvenir Press) and I remember selling many copies at the time. It was a fantastic idea to publish the poem as a gift book (see picture of front cover) and Ashton’s drawings are a brilliant complement to the text. The giving of the poem as a gift (along with a red hat) by one particular woman gave rise to the establishment of the Red Hat Society (1998) in the USA.

Sue Ellen Cooper gave a copy of the poem with a red hat on friend’s 55th birthday in 1996, and the rest, as they say is history. The society now has many chapters in the US and world-wide. I would love to know whether Jenny Joseph is an honorary member of the RHS. Not many people can claim to have written a poem that has resulted in a global women’s movement. It is appropriate to have picked Warning for my #Poetryinjune feature as the Red Hat Society’s World Wide Hoot 2013 was held on 15 June. If had realised sooner I would have posted Warning up on the day, but belated best wishes to all of the Red Hatters out there.

And here is the poem that started it all:

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me,
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

Souvenir Press, 1997

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bell
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.

I hope that has given you a mid-week smile. More #PoetryinJune tomorrow! Are any Red Hatters out there? If so, give me a shout…

Credits: details shown at end of video (recorded 2008) – with thanks.

Wilfred Owen

Jun18

My choice of Wilfred Owen (1893-1918) today is another nod to the GCE ‘O’ Level syllabus of x number of years ago when I was at school in Birmingham and would have been knee-deep in exams at this time of year. If I tell you that I took mine in the year that Virginia Wade won the Women’s Singles title at Wimbledon….well I will leave you to work it out.

As I don’t have the original copy of the poetry book from school (we didn’t have to buy our own text books) then the next best thing is the Oxford Book of Twentieth Century English Verse (edited by Philip Larkin, 1973, 1985). This is stamped as once belonging to a college in Coventry but I promise that I came by it honestly, via a second-hand book shop.

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for those who die as cattle?

Horror of War

Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

I haven’t read Wilfred Owen for a while, though he was my favourite from the syllabus. The problem with studying anything for an exam is that you hack it to pieces until sick of it. I have found that for me, Owen’s poetry has survived the school experience and that after a certain grace period, I could read it again. I also still read Owen because of my interest in reading about the First World War – in literary fiction, poetry, biography and history. He was the first World War I poet that I read and I could probably trace my interest in WWI all the way back to that stuffy classroom and Wilfred Owen. Perhaps I should do a First World War post in the near future?

That’s all for today’s edition of the poetry reading challenge, but drop me a line with your school literary loves (or hates)….

Ian Harrow

Jun17

Gaugin to himself

Eperon Press, 1998

(1897)

The girl sits on a stone to watch
Salt water brush her sturdy feet,
Cleansing thighs of dust from the road.
Her lips, with faint sea-fruit bouquet
Show, mocking and inflamed, the risk
Was yours. Swift as a day that life
When she asked you to let her go
And you felt the relief of one
Almost sacredly cast down…Here
Suddenly, your longing to be
Disappointed! What else schedules
Of days for, wandering unfree?
Mark with your secreta the sites
Of ghosts; take your place, a cornered
Wolf in a wreck of squealing cats.
More thrown back than resurrected.

My rationale for choosing today’s poem is that as I was typing up the post about Alan Murphy’s verse on Marc Chagall my thoughts strayed to my days studying art history at the University of Central Lancashire. Ian Harrow was one of my lecturers when I started the course in September 1998. It seems a frighteningly long time ago now. I remember choosing Chagall as an essay topic in one of the modules that Ian taught but I have so far stopped short of digging the paper out of my archive. Probably best to let sleeping essays lie.

I’ve had this collection for a while, though I bought it after I had graduated. I’ve chosen the poem on Gaugin, partly to continue the art related theme generally and partly because of the specific topic.

A few years ago He Who Put the Shelves Up bought me a study of Gaugin’s work in Tahiti, Gaugin’s Skirt by Stephen F Eisenman (Thames and Hudson, 1997). Eisenman’s fascinating book looks at Gaugin’s relationship with Tahiti, depiction of women, colonialism and contemporary Tahitians. Having being prompted by my poetry musing to pick it up again I might add it to my ever growing summer holiday list.

Ian Harrow has a new collection published this year called Words Take Me (Lapwing Press). I’ve read a couple of poems from this collection on Poetry PF so take a look at the link.

Apologies for the late posting today – I was busy doing a bit of blog maintenance behind the scenes. Now to get working on tomorrow’s choice….

James Joyce

Jun16

Happy Bloomsday!

As promised my choice of James Joyce’s verse today will mark today’s event (though Bloomsday seems to have begun to stretch out over a few days as though it refuses to be confined by a mere twenty-four hours). I probably won’t actually be doing anything Bloomsday-ish though, as I will be at the Dalkey Book Festival for a couple of the Kids’ events. I just hope the weather is kind to us. But back to James Joyce…

For this poem I am returning to one of the anthologies I have used before, selected by Kaye Webb from children’s suggestions of their favourite poems.

Chamber Music

book cover of I like this Poem by Kaye Webb

Another #Poetryinjune choice

Lean out of the window,
Golden hair,
I hear you singing
A merry air.

My book is closed;
I read no more,
Watching the fire dance
On the floor.

I have left my books:
I have left my room:
For I heard you singing
Through the gloom.

Singing and singing
A merry air.
Lean out of the window,
Golden hair.

I was surprised to see that this poem was from James Joyce; it doesn’t strike me as the sort of piece he would write. It has such a gentle, tender story book quality. But then I have to confess to not being a very experienced Joycean so perhaps my impression is wide of the mark. The poem was originally the title poem of a collection of love poems published in 1907 by Elkin Matthews.

Joyce later said to his wife, ‘ When I wrote [Chamber Music], I was a lonely boy, walking about by myself at night and thinking that one day a girl would love me.’ There is also a more earthy tale about a connection with chamber pots which may or may not have any basis in fact. Appropriately enough, considering the date today, In Ulysses, Leopold Bloom reflects, ‘Chamber music. Could make a pun on that.’

The young reader who put forward this choice in the anthology said it was, ‘because it reminds me of the best fairy tales, such as Rapunzel singing from a turret window at dusk…It is reassuringly old-fashioned and chivalrous…quietly inspiring and my favourite poem’. (Charlotte Woodward in I like this poem). One of the aspects I love about this collection is reading the comments made by the children (I wonder where they all are now – do they still read poetry?) showing their engagement and enthusiasm with the written word.

I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your weekend, wherever you are. Regards to all James Joyce aficionados celebrating Bloomsday.

Alan Murphy on Marc Chagall

Jun15

Spotlight on Chagall

The back story of today’s #PoetryinJune choice of Alan Murphy is that yesterday I heard from a friend about a major exhibition of Marc Chagall’s (1887-1985) work that has just moved to Tate Liverpool. The timing couldn’t be better as I usually go over to the UK on a summer visit. I realised with a vague sense of shock that it was as long ago as 1998 that I went to London to see ‘Chagall, Love and the Stage’ at the Royal Academy. It was a stunning experience so I am keen on fitting in a trip to Liverpool with our summer travel plans.

This then leads me to Alan Murphy, whom we first saw at one of the Mountains to Sea Festival events at the County Hall a couple of years ago. I bought his collection The Mona Lisa’s on our Fridge (2009) which the author kindly signed for my daughter. Apart from the title poem, the book also contains two other art related poems; one on Picasso and one on Chagall. I will just quote the first and last verses to give you an idea.

According to Marc Chagall

How does it rain if the rain runs upwards?
-in the mind of Marc Chagall.
How can a bun turn into the sun?
-by the power of Marc Chagall.
And when does a town recline on a cloud?
-when its world is Marc Chagall’s.

…

So doff your hat but hold on to your head;
Just lose your logical limits instead,
And gamely greet green, orange and red
-the music of Marc Chagall.

My 1998 exhibition guide says of Chagall’s Russian – Jewish background that ‘An intense belief in the supernatural and miracles was part of everyday life’ and this is expressed in his paintings. Alan Murphy’s poem beautifully translates Marc Chagall’s scenes into words and puts over the sheer delight and exuberance of the paintings where ‘gravity wanes and withers’ (2nd verse). If you had never seen a Chagall painting, this poem would be a great introduction as it conjures up the surreal world that you find in his art. Alan Murphy is an artist as well as a writer and I think that his engagement with art comes across in this poem in a way that children can appreciate. Adults (well me anyway) can enjoy the fun with art too; there’s a also great poem entitled Pablo Picasso in this collection which is fitting as he and Chagall were artistic rivals.

Alan Murphy is based in Co Waterford and has published a second volume of poetry for children Psychosilly in 2011.

I hope you’re having a good weekend so far. After today’s piece on Chagall, drop by tomorrow for a poem to commemorate Bloomsday.

Update August 2013:

I did actually get to see the Tate Liverpool exhibition this month and bought the catalogue which I have featured in a blog post on Chagall.

Sedley’s Faithless Phillis

Jun14

After yesterday’s nod towards the Yeats Day celebrations I have moved in a rather frivolous direction and have a short poem from a Restoration poet, Sir Charles Sedley (1639-1701). This is one of the poems I mentioned as being in my little mini red book called Come Live with Me, along with Christopher Marlowe’s Passionate Shepherd.

Faithless Phillis

One of the things I love about this book are the decorated front and end papers and this is a scan of the front of the book, showing a dedication to a previous owner. So, not only do I wonder who the faithless Phillis might have been; I also wonder who Gwen was, who once owned this book and then gave it away at some point.

Frontspiece illustration of a poet and lady

Poet and his Lady

You might also be interested in knowing a little more about Sir Charles who was one of Charles II’s ministers, ending up as the Speaker of the House of Commons. He also got up to various activities of a roistering nature as I discovered courtesy of a lovely history blog Two Nerdy History Girls. Look away now if you’re easily shocked. I believe Samuel Pepys had something to say on the subject, so I must look that reference up. Pepys also lives on the Landing Book Shelves and is a very old resident on the TBR Pile. Tackling his diaries would be a Reading Challenge all by itself so I will probably save him for another year.

I’ll now go away and work on an idea for tomorrow’s choice of poem for #PoetryinJune. Any favourites so far? Let me know if you have one.

W.B.Yeats

Jun13

Having reached day thirteen of my #PoetryinJune Reading Challenge, we come to another literary festival marking the life of a famous poet. I have therefore decided to choose a poem by W.B. Yeats (1865-1939) in honour of Yeats Day today. This was originally the title poem from the Cuala Press volume (published in 1904) that I mentioned in my feature on Lily and Lolly Yeats. I have copied the text of this short poem from my Everyman’s Poetry edition which contains a selection of verse spanning Yeats’ career.

I first encountered Yeats’ work on my ‘O’ Level literature syllabus, which was more years ago than I care to remember. We also studied W.H. Auden and Wilfred Owen’s poetry, though sadly I don’t have a copy of the text-book. Since Auden has already had a spot in my #PoetryinJune series, I should certainly make room for Owen at some point this month. But in the meantime I hope you enjoy this evocative piece from W.B. As someone who tries to attract our stripey furry friends to the garden, I love the thought of the bees humming in the flowers in this scene. The contrast of the lime-tree flowers with paper flowers a few lines later seems to me to point up the beauties of the country.

Everyman paperback edition, 1997

In the Seven Woods

I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods,
Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees
Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and put away
The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness
That empty the heart. I have forgotten awhile
Tara uprooted, and new commonness
Upon the throne and crying about the streets
And hanging its paper flowers from post to post
Because it is alone of all things happy.
I am contented, for I know that Quiet
Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart
Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer,
Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs
A cloudy quiver over Pairc-na-lee.

There’s lots going on in Sligo today to honour its former resident and his creative siblings. The Yeats Society in Sligo was formed in 1958 ‘to promote appreciation of his poetry and other writings, and an awareness of the other members of this talented family‘. The society, based in the Yeats Memorial Building has been running both a summer and a winter school for several years as well as being involved in many other literary and cultural activities.

Click on the Press Release Link for more information about the Second Annual Yeats Day events in Sligo which runs from 8am until late.

Now, I must go and peruse the shelves for tomorrow’s #PoetryinJune verse…

Robert Louis Stevenson

Jun12

Yesterday I promised you one more poem about trains and here it is, right on time, from Robert Louis Stevenson’s (1850-1894) A Child’s Garden of Verses. This collection was originally published in 1885 under the title Penny Whistles. We have a nice Dover Publications edition (1992) with black and white illustrations but I have scanned the poem from an illustrated anthology, as the verse’s page has such an attractive border design.

The illustrations in A Children’s Book of Verse (Brimax Books 1978) are by Eric Kincaid and the poems selected by Marjorie Rogers. This is a wonderful collection of poems, ‘Travel to the end of the rainbow, soar with eagles, fly to the moon, shiver with Old Jack Frost, delight in the animal kingdom, tremble in the underworld, dance with the fairies at the bottom of the garden or watch the seasons change’…you can also go on a train journey….

Text of Stevenson's Poem from a railway carriage

A wonderful train journey…

I like so many poems in A Child’s Garden of Verses that I opted for From a Railway Carriage since it had the dual effect of tying in with the previous train poems as well as meaning that I didn’t have to make a difficult choice. The collection encompasses many themes of childhood, such as playing games, going to bed, exploring and imaginary places. Poems such as My Bed is a Boat, The Land of Counterpane and My Shadow are timeless in their evocation of childish concerns.

And here’s a little extra one (simply because it amuses me):

book cover of A Child's Garden of Verses

Childhood…

Auntie’s Skirts

Whenever Auntie moves around,
Her dresses make a curious sound;
They trail behind her up the floor,
And trundle after through the door.

(number xv in the Dover edition)

The verse conjures up a wonderful image; I hope that auntie never got her skirts caught up in the door…

I’ll leave you with a link to the Robert Louis Stevenson Website which is a comprehensive source of information on RLS and his work.

Look out for more #PoetryinJune verse tomorrow!

Old Possum: TS Eliot

Jun11

Now, you may have thought ‘Ah ha, this is going to be a poem about a cat’. And you would indeed be right but it is also a poem that continues the train theme that I began yesterday. There are many magnificent cats (I might mention Cat Morgan, I might mention Mr Mistoffelees) in T.S. Eliot’s poems but only one ‘Railway Cat’ and that is the incomparable ‘Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat’ Here’s the first part of Eliot’s poem:

Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats was first published by Faber in 1939 and re-published with additional poems in 1954. Apparently T.S.Eliot first wrote the cat poems during the 1930s and included them in letters to his God children under the name ‘Old Possum’. Lucky kids! An illustrated edition of the Practical Cats (drawings by Nicholas Bentley) was first published in 1940 and re-titled in 1974 as ‘The Illustrated Old Possum’. More recently Axel Scheffler has illustrated Old Possum (2009) but I have a great fondness for Bentley’s cats in preference.

In this poem, there is again a great rhythm for reading aloud as the sense of the train journey up to Scotland is evoked. Mind you, I think T.S. Eliot was taking a few liberties with the night mail service, since I seem to recall from the GPO film that it carried no passengers. I believe there used to be a sleeper train travelling up and down but whether that carried mail or not, I doubt if it had as dedicated an employee as Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat.

The first Old Possum cat that I recall was ‘Macavity: The Mystery Cat’ which I remember my mum reciting to us when we were young. I’ve had a couple of copies of Old Possum’s over the years and this present book replaces one that mysteriously went astray during a house move (a case of the ‘hidden paw’ perhaps?).

I’m thinking of squeezing in one more train poem tomorrow on #PoetryinJune before moving onto a new topic so look out for that tomorrow. Meanwhile, any comments about your favourite poems on trains, cats or anything else would be very welcome!

Now, back to T.S. Eliot (AKA Old Possum…)