Tag: grief

poetry appreciation
poetry appreciation

peine forte et dure

Jul 16, 2020 #acceptance, #coronavirus, #Covid 19, #Denise Levertov, #feelings, #grief, #Levertov, #mourning, #news, #pandemic, #peine forte et dure, #press, #pressing, #process, #sadness, #Talking to grief, #torture by Lucy Crispin

Apparently that’s the name for the torture whereby a board was placed on top of you and weights gradually added until the life was crushed out of you (or you made a plea in relation to the crime of which you were accused). “Pressing”, as it was also known, comes to my mind every now and then these days when I turn on the news or check out The Grauniad website and hear what the latest Thing is. I have a distinctly physical sense of another weight being added, another piece of bad news and difficulty on top of what already felt like a crushing load. Thus half an hour ago I was to be seen sitting with my forehead on the desk trying to summon the energy and will to sit upright. I’m sure this is a common experience. What works, apart from coffee, chocolate or a walk in the wood, is acknowledging to myself what I’m actually feeling; and so I give you ‘Talking to Grief‘ by Denise Levertov.

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poetry appreciation

I do not approve

Jun 18, 2020 #anger, #bewilderment, #complaint, #denial, #Dirge WIthout Music, #Edna St VIncent Millay, #fury, #grief, #heartbreak, #loss, #powerlessness, #rage, #stages of grief by Lucy Crispin

Someone confided in me, earlier this week, their feelings in re: all the pain, confusion and madness in the world at the moment: “I don’t like it”. It was offered as if I was being let into an important secret, and there was something very disarming about it—so honest and un-clever and childlike. Not to mention unarguable. It put me in mind of the wonderful ‘Dirge Without Music‘ by Edna St Vincent Millay. There’s what I think is a very good reading of it there at the Poetry Website (click the red arrow by the title), and a different one here; or you could enjoy this fragment which, I think, catches the same mood as the PF reading. Have a listen. See what you think.

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poetry appreciation

there’s this mood, too

May 14, 2020 #anger, #angry, #corona virus, #Covid 19, #crisis, #despair, #fear, #fearful, #frightened, #future, #grief, #hopeless, #Merwin, #sad, #Separation, #war, #When the War is Over, #WS Merwin, #zeugma by Lucy Crispin

That extra time we’re supposed to be having at the moment, during which we relax, read, knit ourselves cunning new kitchens, all that lot… It hasn’t been like that for me. I seem to have spent a startling amount of time doing I know not what. But one of the things I have managed to achieve, which I’ve been meaning to do for a long time, is get hold of some WS Merwin.

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poetry appreciation

something almost being said

May 7, 2020 #A Grief Observed, #begin, #beginning, #birth, #CS Lewis, #cycle of life, #finiteness, #grief, #In Memoriam, #Larkin, #life cycle, #May spring, #mourning, #Philip Larkin, #quatrains, #renewal, #rhyme, #seasons, #springtime, #Tennyson, #The Trees, #time by Lucy Crispin

A few weeks back I mentioned that we’d get to Larkin’s trees in May. Well, it’s May, and here are ‘The Trees‘. You can hear Larkin reading the poem, and watch an accompanying animation (commissioned by the BBC on the 30th anniversary of Larkin’s death), here.

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poetry appreciation

the school in which we learn

Apr 23, 2020 #April, #Calmly We Walk, #death, #Delmore Schwartz, #depression, #despair, #dread, #fear, #grief, #meaning, #mindful, #mindfulness, #mortality, #poem, #poetry, #presence, #present, #Schwartz, #spring, #time, #time is the fire in which we burn, #time is the school in which we learn by Lucy Crispin

I’ve no idea how well known this poem is, but it’s relatively new to me, and its refrains have been pulsing their steady rhythm through me for the last week or so. So here it is: ‘Calmly We Walk through This April’s Day‘ by Delmore Schwartz.

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poetry appreciation

something to hold on to

Apr 16, 2020 #bird, #birds, #birdsong, #change, #corona virus, #Covid 19, #dawn chorus, #forest, #forest bathing, #grief, #Hirshfield, #Jane Hirshfield, #lockdown, #loss, #love, #nature, #The Promise, #trees, #woods by Lucy Crispin

Waking at 5.25 this morning I got straight out of bed and went to the wood behind my house where I walked slowly round, revelling in the full glory of the dawn chorus. I was still in my pyjamas so I’m glad I was there before the first dogwalkers and runners (in these days of lockdown they are infesting the times and places that—did they but know it—are actually MINE. I know; sorry.) But even though I didn’t get caught I was aware that this wasn’t exactly Normal Behaviour. I mean, sure, I walk pretty much every morning. But I usually get dressed first. It just didn’t seem worth it today.

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poetry appreciation

what a difference an ‘a’ makes

Feb 6, 2020 #A Bitterness, #article, #bitterness, #definite article, #disappointment, #grief, #indefinite article, #love, #Mary Oliver, #Oliver, #poem, #poems, #poetry, #resentment, #sorrow by Lucy Crispin

I apologise for that appalling pun. Had to be done. If you’re still speaking to me, have a look at this poem, ‘A Bitterness’ (here), then think about what it would feel like with even only a slight change in the title—’Your bitternesss’, or just ‘Bitterness’, or even ‘The Bitterness’? Wouldn’t that make it a really different poem?

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poetry appreciation

yes, please

Jan 23, 2020 #grief, #kind, #kindness, #Larkin, #learning, #Naomi Shihab Nye, #Nye, #Philip Larkin, #poem, #poems, #poetry, #sadness, #sorrow, #Talking in Bed, #wisdom by Lucy Crispin

Something to move and comfort us today, a poem nourishing and everyday-special as homemade soup. Naomi Shihab Nye’s ‘Kindness’ actually mentions soup, but her poem is not the ‘weakened broth’ to which it refers. No, this is a complete meal. It’s tender and wise and lives up to its name. You can read it here or hear the poet read it here.

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poetry appreciation, reflection

‘we read to know we are not alone’

Dec 5, 2019 #4am, #5am, #anxiety, #Fleur Adcock, #grief, #insomnia, #poem, #poems, #poetry, #Things by Lucy Crispin

As anyone knows who’s been to a workshop or event I’ve facilitated (or follows what the afternoon knows), this is something I bang on about a lot. I’m unapologetic about it, though, because it’s such an important dimension of reading (and indeed experiencing any kind of art). Surely anything that pierces our loneliness—whether from each other or from (parts of) ourselves—is worth celebrating? So today I want to think about how reading helps us know we are not alone, and do so in relation to the understated but marvellous poem ‘Things’ by Fleur Adcock.

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