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Showing posts with label Poet: Denise Levertov. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poet: Denise Levertov. Show all posts

Opening Words -- Denise Levertov

Guest poem submitted by Rob Bos:
(Poem #1302) Opening Words
 I believe the earth
 exists, and
 in each minim mote
 of its dust the holy
 glow of thy candle.
 Thou
 unknown I know,
 thou spirit,
 giver,
 lover of making, of the
 wrought letter,
 wrought flower,
 iron, deed, dream.
 Dust of the earth,
 help thou my
 unbelief. Drift
 gray become gold, in the beam of
 vision. I believe with
 doubt. I doubt and
 interrupt my doubt with belief. Be,
 beloved, threatened world.
 Each minim
 mote.
 Not the poisonous
 luminescence forced
 out of its privacy,
 The sacred lock of its cell
 broken. No,
 the ordinary glow
 of common dust in ancient sunlight.
 Be, that I may believe. Amen.
-- Denise Levertov
This poem, "Opening Words", by Denise Levertov, was pointed out to a
friend, after I included a segment of "Goodbye to Tolerance" in my
signature.  I immediately fell in love with it, because it so thoroughly
amplifies my own feelings on the nature of the Divine, and the world,
and a peculiarly atheist form of spirituality.  "I believe the earth" is
something that should be a guidepost, a starting point. It exists, and
we find "in each minim mote / of its dust the holy / glow of thy
candle".  This is an ode to doubt, to belief and unbelief, to the world
and its making and giving and creating...

.. and the phrase "each minim mote" is beautifully assonant.

The more I read of Ms. Levertov, the more I like her.

Rob Bos.

In California During the Gulf War -- Denise Levertov

Guest poem sent in by Mark Cummins
(Poem #1184) In California During the Gulf War
 Among the blight-killed eucalypts, among
 trees and bushes rusted by Christmas frosts,
 the yards and hillsides exhausted by five years of drought,

 certain airy white blossoms punctually
 reappeared, and dense clusters of pale pink, dark pink--
 a delicate abundance. They seemed

 like guests arriving joyfully on the accustomed
 festival day, unaware of the year's events, not perceiving
 the sackcloth others were wearing.

 To some of us, the dejected landscape consorted well
 with our shame and bitterness. Skies ever-blue,
 daily sunshine, disgusted us like smile-buttons.

 Yet the blossoms, clinging to thin branches
 more lightly than birds alert for flight,
 lifted the sunken heart

 even against its will.
                       But not
 as symbols of hope: they were flimsy
 as our resistance to the crimes committed

 --again, again--in our name; and yes, they return,
 year after

  year, and yes, they briefly shone with serene joy
 over against the dark glare

 of evil days. They are, and their presence
 is quietness ineffable--and the bombings are, were,
 no doubt will be; that quiet, that huge cacophany

 simultaneous. No promise was being accorded, the blossoms
 were not doves, there was no rainbow. And when it was claimed
 the war had ended, it had not ended.
-- Denise Levertov
           from Evening Train

With news all the news at the moment, I was reminded of this poem by Denise
Levertov.

I first read it as an unseen poem in an exam, and even while I was
frantically trying to scribble something about its technical makeup, the
poem struck me a wonderfully subtle account of war and protest and how the
world carries on in spite of both.  In light of all the talk of war with
Iraq it is once more very topical.

Mark.

[Martin adds]

I cannot help but compare this (favourably, of course) to Andrew Motion's
"Causa Belli" [Poem #1143]. A little subtlety goes a long, long way,
especially in poetry.

For another great poem along the same lines, see Frost's "Range Finding"
[Poem #1036]

Adam's Complaint -- Denise Levertov

Guest poem sent in by Salima Virani
(Poem #1131) Adam's Complaint
 Some people,
 no matter what you give them,
 still want the moon.

 The bread,
 the salt,
 white meat and dark,
 still hungry.

 The marriage bed
 and the cradle,
 still empty arms.

 You give them land,
 their own earth under their feet,
 still they take to the roads.

 And water: dig them the deepest well,
 still it's not deep enough
 to drink the moon from.
-- Denise Levertov
[Comments]

This is one of those poems that is neither complimentary not critical.  I
love its matter-of-fact tone that almost shrugs and says 'that's just the
way we are'.  And for being so, it does not praise and neither does it
condemn.  So someone like me, who can so relate to this is left wondering if
that's something I should be proud of..or ashamed of.

If this poem were a question posed to me or an allegation made at me..then
in my defence I would only say this, so beautifully captured by Yevgeny
Yevtushenko:

"No, I'll not take the half"

No, I'll not take the half,
Give me the whole sky! The far-flung earth!
Seas and rivers and mountain avalanches--
All these are mine! I'll accept no less!

No, life, you cannot woo me with a part.
Let it be all or nothing! I can shoulder that!
I don't want happiness by halves,
Nor is half of sorrow what I want.

Yet there's a pillow I would share,
Where gently pressed against a cheek,
Like a helpless star, a falling star,
A ring glimmers on a finger of your hand.

  -- Yevgeny Yevtushenko

[Bio]

Denise Levertov [1923 - ]:  Denise Levertov was born on October 24, 1923 In
Ilford, Essex, England.  Her first collection of poetry, published in 1946 -
The Double Image - was not met with success. In 1957 she released Here and
Now and quickly followed with a collection entitled Overland to the Islands.
During the 1960's, this prolific writer created five more volumes of verse.

For more, go here:
  http://www.rooknet.com/beatpage/writers/levertov.html

Yevgeny Yevtushenko [1933 - ] Internationally best known poet of the
post-Stalin generation of Russian poets. His early poems show influence of
Mayakovsky and loyalty to communism, but with such work as The Third Snow
(1955). Yevtushenko became a spokesman for the young generation.

For more, go here:
  http://boppin.com/poets/yevtushenko.htm

Salima

To the Reader -- Denise Levertov

       
(Poem #201) To the Reader
 As you read, a white bear leisurely
 pees, dyeing the snow
 saffron,

 and as you read, many gods
 lie among lianas: eyes of obsidian
 are watching the generations of leaves,

 and as you read
 the sea is turning its dark pages,
 turning
 its dark pages.
-- Denise Levertov
             (1923 - 1997)

Quoting a bit from the biography:

   Early in her career, Levertov became associated with the poets of the
   Black Mountain school, and she credited the spare, clear, objective
   work of the poet William Carlos Williams with helping her develop her
   own vital American style of composition. She tended to avoid the use
   of metaphor and allusion, preferring instead the direct and immediate
   description of objects, perceptions, and feelings in the rhythms of
   ordinary speech.

This is by no means an easy style to master - consider how devoid it is of
all the things one tends to associate with poetry; the aforementioned
metaphor and allusion, rhyme, metre, and, in general, 'poetic' language. And
yet this is  by no means 'prose with interesting line breaks'. The images are
carefully chosen and evocative, and the very economy of words indicates the
care with which each one is selected.

Focusing on today's poem, note the way the structure is built up on several
levels. The dominant images towards the start are the soothingly reinforced
of the white bear and the snow. The 'pees, dyeing' enters as a background
note, until it suddenly splashes[1] into prominence with the highly
contrastive 'saffron'.

The second verse adds a whole new level of contrast, with the sudden,
radical scene change to images of jungles and buried gods. ('Generations of
leaves' is, incidentally, an absolutely lovely image IMHO.) And then, in the
final verse, the 'as you read', hitherto merely a narrative device of sorts,
springs in its turn into focus, as it is reflected in the sea's 'turning
pages'[2].

And finally there are lots of nice effects provided by the repetition of the
last line, but they're not too hard to see so I won't bother pointing them
out[3].

[1] sorry!
[2] well, maybe one or two metaphors
[3] one of them, for instance, is the reinforcing of the present-continuous
    tense of the poem

Biography:

  Levertov, Denise

   b. Oct. 24, 1923, Ilford, Essex, Eng.
   d. Dec. 20, 1997, Seattle, Wash., U.S.

   English-born American poet, essayist, and political activist who wrote
   deceptively matter-of-fact verse on both personal and political themes.

   Levertov's father was an immigrant Russian Jew who converted to
   Christianity, married a Welsh woman, and became an Anglican clergyman.
   Educated entirely at home, Levertov became a civilian nurse during
   World War II, serving in London throughout the bombings. Her first
   volume of verse, The Double Image (1946), was not very successful. She
   married the American writer Mitchell Goodman in 1947, moved with him
   to the United States in 1948, and became a naturalized U.S. citizen in
   1955.

   Early in her career, Levertov became associated with the poets of the
   Black Mountain school, and she credited the spare, clear, objective
   work of the poet William Carlos Williams with helping her develop her
   own vital American style of composition. She tended to avoid the use
   of metaphor and allusion, preferring instead the direct and immediate
   description of objects, perceptions, and feelings in the rhythms of
   ordinary speech.

   Levertov's first important poetry collection, Here and Now (1957), was
   followed by Overland to the Islands (1958), With Eyes at the Back of
   Our Heads (1959), and several others. She opposed American involvement
   in the Vietnam War and was active in the War Resisters League, for
   whom she edited the collection Out of the War Shadow (1967). One of
   her finest volumes of poems, The Sorrow Dance (1967), reflects her
   opposition to the war, while The Freeing of the Dust (1975) alternates
   antiwar poems with confessional poems about her personal life. Her
   subsequent volumes show a sympathy with Third World cultures and an
   involvement with feminism.

   Levertov's later efforts included essays and prose, as in The Poet in
   the World (1973), and the verse collections Candles in Babylon (1982)
   and Breathing the Water (1987). She taught at Stanford University from
   1981 to 1994.

        -- EB

And a bit on the Black Mountain school...

   By the mid-1950s, however, a strong reaction developed. Poets began to
   turn away from Eliot and metaphysical poetry to more romantic or more
   prosaic models, including Walt Whitman, William Carlos Williams, Hart
   Crane, and D.H. Lawrence. A group of poets associated with Black
   Mountain College in western North Carolina, as, for example, Charles
   Olson, Robert Creeley, Robert Duncan, Edward Dorn, and Denise Levertov,
   treated the poem as an unfolding process rather than a containing form.
   Olson's Maximus Poems (1953-68) show a clear affinity with the jagged
   line and uneven flow of Pound's Cantos and Williams's Paterson. Allen
   Ginsberg's incantatory, prophetic "Howl" (1956) and   his moving elegy
   for his mother, "Kaddish" (1961), gave powerful impetus to the Beat
   movement. Written with extraordinary intensity, these works were inspired
   by writers as diverse as the biblical   prophets, William Blake, and
   Whitman, as well as by the dream-logic of the French Surrealists and the
   spontaneous jazz aesthetic of Ginsberg's friend, the novelist Jack
   Kerouac.

        -- EB again

Links: <[broken link] http://www.poets.org/LIT/poet/dleverto.htm>