Will I see you at the Poets Forum in October?

	September 21, 2010 Share Facebook E-mail to Friend StumbleUpon Twitter		Dear Friends, Mid-September already! The rudbeckia are bright dark gold, and a loon called at first light—but I don't know how much longer this year we'll hear that cry, that song. But on the weekend of October 28-30, the Chancellors of the Academy of American Poets will be sharing songs and cries and calls once again in New York City at the Poets Forum—and how wonderful it would be to see all of you on that occasion—every one of you holding me now in hand (as Walt Whitman said to each of us). There will be readings, award presentations, as well as panels on translation, poetic inspiration, Walt Whitman, and wild and strange language! And "The Mystical in the Mundane," which I'll be talking about with Ed Hirsch and Khaled Mattawa. We hope you will join us for the festivities! We look forward to meeting you. Best regards to you, companions of the way, Sharon Olds Chancellor, Academy of American Poets Pittsfield, NH

[Poem of the week] THIS BE THE PUKKA VERSE

THIS BE THE PUKKA VERSE

Ah the Raj! Our mother-incarnate
Victoria Imperatrix rules the sceptred
sphere – she oversees legions of maiden
'fishing fleets' breaking the waves
for the love of a 'heaven-born' Etonian!
Smoke from cheroots, fetes on lawns,
dances by moonlight at Alice in Wonderland –
no the Viceroy – the Viceroy's ball!
Lock, stock and bobbing along on
palanquins to gothic verandahs where dawn
Himalayas through Poobong-mist,
the twelve-bore or swagger stick topi-and-khaki
bobbery shikar, Tally ho! for the boars
in a dead-leaf hush and by Amritsar
what a bang!bang! bagging the flamiest tiger!
Jackals, panthers, leopards, blackbucks
and swanny bustards, pig-sticking, Kipling,
Tatler, Tollygunge, High Jinks and howdahs
for mansion whacking banks, and the basso
profundo of evensong, frog song, poppy-pods,
housey-housey and hammocks under the Milky Way . . . 

Tromping home trumps – here come the cummerbund
sahibs tipsy with stiff upper lips
for burra pegs of brandy pawnee,
pink gin and the Jaldi punkawallaaahhhh!
on six-meal days with tiffin and peacocks
and humps and tongue and the croquet and polo
and snooker at Ooty and yaboos, and sabre-
curved mustachios twirling for octoroons
panting in gunna-green fields, and ayahs
akimbo and breathless zenanas behind
bazaars where the nautch and the sun never sets
when mango's the bride-bed of lingam-light,
in a jolly good land overflowing with silk and
spice and all the gems of the earth! Er
darling, it's not quiiite the koh-i-noor
but would you . . . (on a train that's steaming
and hooting on time through a tunnel) Ooo darling
a diamond! You make me feel so alive.

© 2009, Daljit Nagra

Poem of the week

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[Poetry Chaikhana] William Wordsworth - Such was the Boy--but for the growing Youth (from The Excursion, Book 1)

Here's your Daily Poem from the Poetry Chaikhana --

 

Such was the Boy--but for the growing Youth (from The Excursion, Book 1) By William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)   Such was the Boy--but for the growing Youth What soul was his, when, from the naked top Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun Rise up, and bathe the world in light! He looked-- Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth And ocean's liquid mass, in gladness lay Beneath him:--Far and wide the clouds were touched, And in their silent faces could he read Unutterable love. Sound needed none, Nor any voice of joy; his spirit drank The spectacle: sensation, soul, and form, All melted into him; they swallowed up His animal being; in them did he live, And by them did he live; they were his life. In such access of mind, in such high hour Of visitation from the living God, Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired. No thanks he breathed, he proffered no request; Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him; it was blessedness and love!   -- from Complete Poetical Works, by William Wordsworth Amazon.com / Photo by nataliekbeats /

============ Thought for the Day: We learn the way by knowing our hearts. ============

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Hi Omss -

No commentary. Nothing to say. Except to urge you not to rush through these lines. Take them phrase by phrase and drink them in.

Lines that stand out to me:

Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun
Rise up, and bathe the world in light!

Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth
And ocean's liquid mass, in gladness lay
Beneath him

Far and wide the clouds were touched,
And in their silent faces could he read
Unutterable love.

All melted into him

In such access of mind, in such high hour
Of visitation from the living God,
Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired.

Rapt into still communion that transcends
The imperfect offices of prayer and praise,
His mind was a thanksgiving to the power
That made him

That's better prayer than a memorized formula.

Awe before the living majesty all around us that throws us into blissful silence, that is true prayer. When the heart, viewing the vastness and diversity of form is opened so wide it witnesses the Formless, that is true prayer.

We are all bathed in that light, we just need to look from some bold headland.

Ivan

 

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