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Poetry for everyone

I’m talking to myself and saying, “ Steve; have you really agreed to lead a Poetry group? Where have you found the nerve to move out of your Poetry comfort zone” ? A very good question. The answer of course is blindingly simple – because I love Poetry, a love I’m hoping to share with all of you who sign up for Poetry for everyone. Poetry is an important part of my daily life, but at no time in my life have I ever been in the company of anyone or any group to share this love, this interest. So with no other volunteer in sight to start a Poetry group, I’ve raised my head above the parapet and taken a chance there are likewise souls out there who would be willing to join me to talk about Poetry, to read Poetry and to enjoy Poetry. Phew! Now a few nerves are starting to kick in.

I have no great depth of knowledge on the subject, but does this matter? I’ve never been formally introduced to Poetry that begins to explain the possible true meaning of any particular Poem, but again, does it matter? Because that is one of the many fascinations of Poetry; that everyone I imagine, will have their own slant on any Poetry that has ever been written.

But it seems to me, with much Poetry, It is helpful to appreciate the time and age in which it was written, within the sprawl of personal and national events that colour everyone’s lives and thoughts, now, and at any time past.

I’m fairly sure, that within our group, there will be a number of you, who will be able to enlighten me and many others present, as to what a poet is alluding and referring to in certain poetry of his or hers, which may seem to many present as complex and difficult to grasp. So much Poetry can be a metaphor from beginning to end. So if there should happen to be members in our midst who are confident that they can explain what certain perplexing Poetry is all about, don’t be shy of enlightening us, as and when the need arises: I’m sure the rest of us would be grateful. But as helpful as this information may be, I must stress that these meetings are not an academic exercise.

For there is a great deal of Poetry that is easy on the mind, readily understood, and that connects with you. Poetry has the ability to lead our minds in a thousand different directions. It can be inspiration, a comfort, a joy, much fun and outright laughter, and perhaps mixed with tears of sorrow: and where necessary, rekindle our belief in the wonder of life. In other words, full frontal human emotions.

So I’m very much hoping that we are going to share the joy of Poetry through each individual member, as to what Poetry resonates for them; and I’m sure that when this season ends, we will have been given an insight into so much personal and much loved Poetry; Poetry, quite likely, we will add to our own treasured lists: it is an opportunity to move a little out of the area of the Poetry we know and love, and to discover other Poetry to admire and stir us; and gradually, through succeeding meetings, an enjoyable rhythm will have been established.

I suggest you bring along a note book and pencil to note down any poem that has been read and has caught your imagination, and that will possibly encourage you to explore that Poet’s work further. Whatever your knowledge, whatever your interest, I’m confident your love of Poetry will be boosted with every succeeding meeting, so that the quiet corner place you like to occupy, will be filled with even more enjoyment.

Remember: liking to read Poetry doesn’t mean you have to like all Poetry. It can become a pointless exercise grinding your way through a poem from which you are deriving little pleasure, just because it’s a famous poem, by a famous Poet. Read the Poetry that captivates you, that brings that tingle to your being, but keep an open mind. I’m hoping that by listening to the varied Poetry from all the other members of the group, our range in our bedtime reading will be much extended. I think it will take the first meeting to settle into a recognized format; I have carefully thought about how it should develop; but I am open to suggestions. Once we have a settled routine I’ll decide where anyone’s own budding attempt at verse will fit in.

So it will be interesting to see who likes or dislikes what and why! I’m sure by the end of our first season, much enjoyment and a great deal of fun will be shared by us all, and possibly we will have made many more friends along the way.

For the first meeting, and just to get the ball rolling, bring along one of your favourite poems. This will see us on our way. The second time we meet will run according to the format we agreed on from the first meeting, and this format will then carry us through the rest of the year- barring minor changes.

Looking forward to meeting you all on September 6th. At St John’s Milford, 2.30 to 4.00

Steve Absolom

Two Favourite Poems

A BLACKBIRD SINGING

It seems wrong that out of this bird,
Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
Places about it, there yet should come
Such rich music, as though the notes’
Ore were changed to a rare metal
At one touch of that bright bill.

You have heard it often, alone at your desk
In a green April, your mind drawn
Away from its work by sweet disturbance
On the mild evening outside your room

A slow singer, but loading each phrase
With history’s overtones, love, joy
And grief learned by his dark tribe
In other orchards and passed on
Instinctively as they are now,
But fresh always with new tears.

R S Thomas


Old Shepherd’s Prayer

Up to the bed by the window, where I be lyin’,
Comes bells and bleat of the flock wi’ they two children’s clack,
Over, from under the eaves there’s the starlings flyin’,
And down in the yard, fit to burst his chain, yapping out at Sue I do hear
Young Mac.

Turning around like a falled - over sack
I can see team ploughin’ in Withy – bush field and meal carts startin’
Up road to Church – Town;
Saturday afternoon the men goin’ back
And the women from market, trapin’ home over the down.

Heavenly Master, I wud like to wake to the same green places
Where I be know’d for breakin’ dogs and follerin’ sheep.
And if I may not walk in th’ old ways and look on th’ old faces
I wud sooner sleep.

Charlotte Mew