POETRY BLOG MAY 25th 2020


POETRY GROUP BLOG
MAY 26TH 2020


RAGWORT

I found this polemic in defence of ragwort which is worth reading if only to mock Lord Tebbit. I quote from the article for those who avoid links

“In 2014, former Conservative minister Lord Tebbit said youngsters should be “required as part of their contribution to the society which finances them, or which they have abused… to uproot this weed. He told our fellow nature charity Buglife that pulling up ragwort should be a low-cost form of National Service for “young people who are not in education, work or training and low-level criminals”.


WILDING

Friends of the Earth’s defence seems to fit in with what Mary said about the book Wilding by Isabella Tree described by Waterstones as “ An inspiring story of the resilience of the land and the diversity of British wildlife, it reveals in eloquent detail what happened when Tree and her husband gave their clay farmland back to nature. As both an experiment in ecological innovation and a personal journey into the realities of farming in the 21st century, Wilding soars with passion, enthusiasm and an undying faith in the virtues of conservation.

Forced to accept that intensive farming on the heavy clay of their land at Knepp was economically unsustainable, Isabella Tree and her husband Charlie Burrell made a spectacular leap of faith: they decided to step back and let nature take over. Thanks to the introduction of free-roaming cattle, ponies, pigs and deer - proxies of the large animals that once roamed Britain - the 3,500 acre project has seen extraordinary increases in wildlife numbers and diversity in little over a decade.

Extremely rare species, including turtle doves, nightingales, peregrine falcons, lesser spotted woodpeckers and purple emperor butterflies, are now breeding at Knepp, and populations of other species are rocketing. The Burrells' degraded agricultural land has become a functioning ecosystem again, heaving with life - all by itself.

Personal and inspirational, Wilding is an astonishing account of the beauty and strength of nature, when it is given as much freedom as possible."

Publisher: Pan Macmillan 
ISBN: 9781509805105 

JOHN CLARE

In June 2019, I missed a session and Barbara took notes of questions people had raised. The chosen poem was by John Clare and I wrote the following in answer to the group’s questions which hopefully serves as a brief biography– please forgive my idleness as I have only added in a few things.

Why did John Clare’s poems fall out of fashion?

That is a particularly complicated question because it has to begin by looking at the reasons his poems became fashionable in the first instance. John Taylor, the publisher of Clare’s first book of poems in 1820 marketed Clare as a Peasant Poet. There was a brief vogue of “Ploughboy and Peasant Poets”. I read a few many years ago when I was studying Clare. 
My favourite was Stephen Duck (known as the Thresher Poet) who in 1830 published a poem called The Thresher’s Labour which describes life as a farm labourer, and the intense hard work associated with haymaking.  In my opinion the poem lacks merit but he has remained in a dusty file in the cramped attic that is my mind because of his risible name and his scathing attack on female labourers which included
Ah! were their hands as active as their tongues
How nimbly then would move the rakes
and prongs!
Clare was at the very tail end of this so his fame in his lifetime was short lived and he was not “rediscovered” until the early twentieth century. His first book Poems Descriptive of Rural Life was even published as by “John Clare A Northamptonshire Peasant Poet.” 
Taylor writes of him as “the Poet as well as the Child of Nature” and “sold” his work as childlike and uneducated to a sentimental reading public whose visions of rural life bore little or no resemblance to John Clare’s experience of unremitting labour and poverty.
I think what is more interesting is why he never became included with the “major poets”. Despite the hardships of his life, his mental ill health  and his many experiences of personal loss, which included the destruction of the rural England he loved, he wrote nature poetry which was not only rooted in the most precise, knowledgeable and intense observation but was wholly  magnificently joyous.


Did he continue to write nature poetry in the Northamptonshire asylum?

In the last twenty years of his life in the asylum, he continued to write poetry encouraged and supported by the asylum’s Superintendent, Dr Prichard. However, he was often in an acute psychotic state believing that he was sometimes Queen Victoria's father, Lord Byron, Shakespeare, a prize-fighter; or perhaps most poignantly and sadly that he was Wellington or Nelson and had had his head shot off in battle, and so all the words inside had dribbled out leaving him with none. 

He wrote the letter below in response to an enquiry in 1841, the same year he was admitted to the care of the benign Dr Pritchard (in the Epping Asylum at High Beeches he was denied access to writing materials by Dr Allen who believed his writing exacerbated his mania)

I am in a Mad house and quite forget your Name or who you are you must excuse me for I have nothing to communicate or tell of and why I am shut up I don’t know I have nothing to say so I conclude
yours respectfully
John Clare

He did however write a long and rather disordered poem called Child Harold (presumably when he imagined that he was Lord Byron) which is a collection of songs and ballads (he had collected folk songs and ballads –both tunes and words- when he was well) and love poems to Mary. This very long poem is worth reading because throughout there are characteristic observations of nature and the seasons. Also you can buy for the very un-princely sum of £1.24 his complete poems for your Kindle, if you have one. I am not sure how difficult it would be to find it in print.

I highly recommend the Paris Review article below which is about Clare and Christopher Smart (who was confined in Mr Potter’s Madhouse in Bethnal Green at one stage).

I think the Group also asked about the link between poetry and madness and I suggested we did a whole session on the topic which is both lengthy and complicated. I have not forgotten and when the Group can continue in some happier and less “mad” time we can look at the subject. (It is not my intention to belittle mental ill-health – I do believe the constraints, anxieties and confusing absurdities of lock down have impacted on everyone’s mental health).


EXTRA POEM


YELLOW
When they turn the sun
on again I'll plant children
under it, I'll light up my soul
with a match and let it sing. I'll
take my bones and polish them, I'll
vacuum up my stale hair, I'll
pay all my neighbours' bad debts, I'll
write a poem called Yellow and put
my lips down to drink it up, I'll
feed myself spoonfuls of heat and
everyone will be home playing with
their wings and the planet will
shudder with all those smiles and
there will be no poison anywhere, no plague
in the sky and there will be a mother-broth
for all of the people and we will
never die, not one of us, we'll go on
won't we?

Anne Sexton
November 1928 – October 1974

It seems to fit the times and like John Clare with his marvellous yellow ragwort suns, Anne Sexton struggled with mental ill health. John Clare wrote of himself “I have a greater compass of mirth and melancholy than another” and modern biographers have sometimes used that statement to give him a Bipolar Disorder diagnosis and Anne Sexton was given a “Manic Depression” diagnosis (as it was then called until fairly recently) although a great deal of controversy and criticism surrounds her experiences of the Mental Health system.

FINALLY
Rosemary has chosen the poem for Wednesday May 27th 2020.  I hope everyone thrives.

Best Wishes, Elizabeth




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