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Showing posts with label Submitted by: Ann Ang. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Submitted by: Ann Ang. Show all posts

Candlesong -- Lee Tzu Pheng

Guest poem submitted by Ann Ang:
(Poem #925) Candlesong
 As my years burn down
 you put me to new use,
 place me upon the palm
   held up to you,
   that I may light
   a way for two:
   just so, in time,
   his light may be
   upon another hand
 outstretched, like me.
-- Lee Tzu Pheng
[Commentary]

This is one of those poems which are short, yet effective (yes, like a short
candle). The form of this poem, not surprisingly, looks like a candle if one
includes the title. But what really made an impression on me, was the simple
yet effective rhythm, slow and languorous in the first few lines, then
faster and faster, almost the way a candle burns: "that I may light / a way
for two" has two beats in each line, because of the fact that a light is
being passed from one person to another. It may also symbolize the passing
of time: tick-tock... though this may be reading too much into the poem.

Come to think of it, this poem has perfect symmetry, the narrator is at once
the candle, holding it and passing it on... well, I won't mangle the poem
too much, so you guys can enjoy it for yourselves.

[About the poet]

Lee Tzu Pheng is a Singaporean poet and was awarded the Singapore Cultural
Medallion for Literature in 1985 and the Southeast Asia WRITE Award in 1987.
All her three published collections of poetry 'Prospect of a Drowning,'
'Against the Next Wave', and 'The Brink of an Amen', have won the Singapore
National Book Development Council's award for poetry.

Actually, I have to say that Southeast Asian poets are rather
under-represented in this group, and Singapore isn't exactly the cultural
dearth that some people think it is, what with the 'national book
development council' etc...

Ann.

[Minstrels Links]

Today's poem is an example of emblematic verse - that is, verse formatted so
as to visually resemble its theme. Other examples to have featured on the
Minstrels include:
Poem #349, A Prayer to the Sun  -- Geoffrey Hill
Poem #497, Landscape: I  -- bpNichol
Poem #567, Easter Wings -- George Herbert
Poem #600, The Mouse's Tale -- Lewis Carroll

Here are some (near-)contemporary South Asian poems that we've run on the
list:
Poem #382, A River  -- A. K. Ramanujan
Poem #434, Extended Family  -- A. K. Ramanujan
Poem #767, A Scroll Painting -- Arthur Yap
Poem #603, Marriages are Made -- Eunice de Souza
Poem #682, Advice to Women -- Eunice de Souza
Poem #72, Madhushala (The Tavern)  -- Harivansh Rai Bachchan
Poem #617, The Cake that Floats in Water -- Ho Xuang Huong
Poem #662, Cat -- Jibanananda Das
Poem #446, Banalata Sen  -- Jibanananda Das
Poem #804, The Looking Glass -- Kamala Das
Poem #516, The Patriot  -- Nissim Ezekiel
Poem #579, The Professor -- Nissim Ezekiel
Poem #714, Night of the Scorpion -- Nissim Ezekiel
Poem #177, Where The Mind is Without Fear  -- Rabindranath Tagore
Poem #367, Krishnakali  -- Rabindranath Tagore
Poem #673, The Flower-School -- Rabindranath Tagore
Poem #642, The Poetics of Desire -- Rina Singh
Poem #843, Love in a Bathtub -- Sujata Bhatt
Poem #853, Stew Much -- Sukumar Ray
Poem #650, All You Who Sleep Tonight -- Vikram Seth
Poem #754, Protocols -- Vikram Seth
Poem #460, Round and Round  -- Vikram Seth
(Yes, they're mainly by Indian poets, that being the group with which Martin
and myself are best acquainted).

A Scroll Painting -- Arthur Yap

Guest poem submitted by Ann Ang
(Poem #767) A Scroll Painting
 the mountains are hazy with timeless passivity
 sprawling monotonously in the left-hand corner
 while clouds diffuse and fill the entire top half
 before bumping daintily into a bright red parakeet
 perched suicide-like on a beautiful gnarled branch
 arched by the weight of fruit and one ripe peach
 hung a motionless inch from the gaping beak

 here is transient beauty
 caught in permanence
 but of what avail is such perpentual unattainment?

 i know the stupid bird can never eat the stupid peach
-- Arthur Yap
This poem speaks mostly for itself, to me it is about the essential
uselessness of some art. For those who have never seen a Chinese painting,
just think Amy Tan and tigers and goldfish and willows and songbirds. The
object of most scrolls is to capture 'transient beauty' or some similar
profound notion about nature.

About the poet: Arthur Yap was born in Singapore in 1943. His first
collection of poems, 'Only Lines' was published in 1971, for which he
received the National Book Development Council of Singapore's first award
for poetry.He has since published various collections of verse such as 'Man
Snake Apple' and 'Commonplace'. In 1983, he was awarded the prestigious
Southeast Asia Write Award in Bangkok and the Cultural Medallion for
Literature in Singapore. He is also a prolific painter.

Ann.

An Arundel Tomb -- Philip Larkin

Guest poem submitted by Ann Ang:
(Poem #756) An Arundel Tomb
 Side by side, their faces blurred,
 The earl and countess lie in stone,
 Their proper habits vaguely shown
 As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
 And that faint hint of the absurd--
 The little dogs under their feet.

 Such plainess of the pre-baroque
 Hardly involves the eye, until
 It meets his left hand gauntlet, still
 Clasped empty in the other; and
 One sees, with sharp tender shock,
 His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.

 They would not think to lie so long.
 Such faithfulness in effigy
 Was just a detail friends could see:
 A sculptor's sweet comissioned grace
 Thrown off in helping to prolong
 The Latin names around the base.

 They would not guess how early in
 Their supine stationary voyage
 Their air would change to soundless damage,
 Turn the old tenantry away;
 How soon succeeding eyes begin
 To look, not read. Rigidly they

 Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
 Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
 Each summer thronged the grass. A bright
 Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
 Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths
 The endless altered people came,

 Washing at their identity.
 Now, helpless in the hollow of
 An unarmorial age, a trough
 Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
 Above their scrap of history,
 Only an attitude remains:

 Time has transfigured them into
 Untruth. The stone finality
 They hardly meant has come to be
 Their final blazon, and to prove
 Our almost-instinct almost true:
 What will survive of us is love.
-- Philip Larkin
This is the last poem in Larkin's collection 'The Whitsun Weddings'. If one
must sum up Larkin's poetry in general, it would be in the famous line: 'To
all that shot and missed'. Larkin deals with the reality and imperfection of
human existence. He spares no one; he tells all the ugly truths. His poems
constantly drive home how human intentions fall short of the final goal.

This is what gives rise to the sweet irony in the last stanza of this poem.
The seeming goal of eternal love has come about despite the fact that there
was no original intention. Why does it come about? Because human beings
still want to believe that there can be such a thing as perfect everlasting
love even though we know intellectually that it cannot exist, hence 'Our
almost-instinct almost true'. It's so human, this contradiction and
precisely why this poem is strangely moving in its apparently jaded tone.

Ann.

[Minstrels Links]

Other Larkin poems to have featured on the list:
Poem #73, "I Remember, I Remember"
Poem #100, "Days"
Poem #178, "Water"
Poem #254, "The North Ship"
Poem #502, "MCMXIV"
Poem #544, "Toads"
All of which can be found at
[broken link] http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/index_poet.html