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Removed for publishing

Posted: 10 Jun 2018, 00:45
by FranktheFrank
Removed for publishing

Re: Wooden Shed sat opn a Hill at Laugharne

Posted: 10 Jun 2018, 01:40
by Bernie01
Frank----


telly. poem runs the risk of becoming maudlin, making thomas boring...

let's hear the rage....feel the man.

what smells can you offer? he liked cockle and bacon chowder. frying sausage. nights curled with his wife against the wind, a short glass of Penderyn single malt...finishing with a log fire.

another quote:

For there are ghosts in the air

And ghostly echoes on paper,

computer crash...have to close.


bernie




How soon the servant sun,
(Sir morrow mark),
Can time unriddle, and the cupboard stone,
(Fog has a bone
He'll trumpet into meat),
Unshelve that all my gristles have a gown
And the naked egg stand straight,

Sir morrow at his sponge,
(The wound records),
The nurse of giants by the cut sea basin,
(Fog by his spring
Soaks up the sewing tides),
Tells you and you, my masters, as his strange
Man morrow blows through food.

All nerves to serve the sun,
The rite of light,
A claw I question from the mouse's bone,
The long-tailed stone
Trap I with coil and sheet,
Let the soil squeal I am the biting man
And the velvet dead inch out.

How soon my level, lord,
(Sir morrow stamps
Two heels of water on the floor of seed),
Shall raise a lamp
Or spirit up a cloud,
Erect a walking centre in the shroud,
Invisible on the stump

A leg as long as trees,
This inward sir,
Mister and master, darkness for his eyes,
The womb-eyed, cries,
And all sweet hell, deaf as an hour's ear,
Blasts back the trumpet voice.

Re: Clifftop at Laugharne

Posted: 10 Jun 2018, 01:46
by FranktheFrank
Thanks Bernie
shall attend to it.

Re: Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 11 Jun 2018, 14:54
by Kenneth2816
This version much better Be cool if you could work in the 18 shots he downed st The White Horse Tavern in NY that did him in

Re: Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 11 Jun 2018, 16:01
by FranktheFrank
Yes
then the poem will grow.

Re: Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 11 Jun 2018, 16:37
by Kenneth2816
Looking forward

Re: Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 11 Jun 2018, 22:33
by Bernie01
Frank---

not a cooperative subject---distance, language and poetry.



,. . . on a clifftop overlooking
a brick built boathouse painted lemon.
No ty bachhere.

what does this mean?

distance does not improve the heart....i wish to see the man, to become engaged quickly....no what i mean?




The poet once leaned at this window
to gaze, a marsh, an estuary of the Taff
unbroken to the Severn and the Celtic Sea.

you see what i mean....



Little boats bob among wind waving
reeds and lovers entwine, be mine,
be mine.


i do love these three lines...the flavor, the scent of Thomas.



...tourists climb the cliff path
to peer in at a summer coat that hangs
on a chair as if he's just popped out to buy
another bottle of bitter beer. The council
thought it right that people can see where
the great man worked, did he really work
here from this dilapidated shed.


i understand, but could be summarized....

his all weather mackinaw carelessly hung over a chair,
hen could return from the pub at any moment.



It could be bugger all, Llaregub, with
Polly Garter, Gossamer Beynon and Sinbad
Sailor. Caitlin learned to cut his egg just
as Mam did, he never knew how, never tried.
He beat her when the haze came over him
and she learned to return in kind.
Muddled, befuddled like Captain Cat,
Mog Edwards and Myfanwy Price. Sex
and violence never far away in his gin
sodden, bed-wetting dreams.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuPO2Kvqlms



I want something more here, i wonder what?




The sea, the sea, never far from the waves
that breaks incessantly on the shore.
He would watch the sun go down over
Eire, that hidden land of the bards
and dream as he wrote, invent words.

He left his mark, alcohol left its mark,
on a fatty liver, 18 shots of vodka done
him in proper, shortened his life, he'd
pissed it all up against a wall,
debauched the rotund smooth
hairless body. Despair his legacy,
the town drunk of an insignificant
village in a little known land of hills.




a vivid bio in the Telegraph:

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/fil ... homas.html

Re: Laugharne

Posted: 12 Jun 2018, 19:45
by FranktheFrank
Thanks Bernie, I think I have lifted parts

Re: Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 12 Jun 2018, 22:33
by BobBradshaw
This revision is much better....am enjoying it....

Re: Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 13 Jun 2018, 04:38
by Bernie01
I had not seen this film about Dylan, just magnificent.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QDAXkhTwTFM






bernie

Re: Laugharne

Posted: 13 Jun 2018, 11:28
by FranktheFrank
Thank you Bernie
I had not seen that film before. The seascapes are every true.

Re: Wooden Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 13 Jun 2018, 21:42
by Bernie01
Frank---



ah, there's your poem.....


bernie

Re: Laugharne

Posted: 14 Jun 2018, 01:22
by FranktheFrank
Value your input Bernie
you make us work hard,
excellent workshopping
thank you.

Bob, thanks, glad you like

Re: Laugharne

Posted: 15 Jun 2018, 13:27
by FranktheFrank
I've redefined Dylan somewhat.

Re: Wooden Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 15 Jun 2018, 20:54
by Bernie01
Frank---

better, but still much too long.

and too many warblers....

and the symphony of the sedge warbler's call, an infinite variety

of songs in series, ratchet trills and warbled peeps. No one
warbler's-call the same,


and other uses of the words later in the poem.

still seems flat.

this man was on the radio in London, made films during the war, went to the United States four times. Richard Burton reads his poems today.

and what is the reference for his physical abuse of his wife?

and no mention of three children.


the last verse is my favorite, i actually see the man....


this is a tough, tough subject. keep at it.


bernie

Laugharne

Posted: 15 Jun 2018, 22:22
by FranktheFrank
Okay, thanks again Bernie

Re: Wooden Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 15 Jun 2018, 22:39
by Bernie01
Frank---

he died in new york. 1953. Caitlin in this marvelous and lashing interview with Vincent Kane, says she went to see him, drunk on the plane.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQzcQ1KVFaM


ushered in to him, and Dylan silent under an oxygen tent, she sat and and rolled a cigarette....


no, no kids. probably a shallow chapter.

but a shed? his study? not very dashing compared with all the other facts of his life...meeting Caitlin....love at first view, the lady patrons...his three tours in America....

my god, his own words...


here is something, his voice, his wit...oh god, his wit...

speaking of poets traveling in America he says:


"...my self among them, booming with the worst."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBEU3l9sGHA


and here is that godamn shed...(LOL)


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFbyq2cZHgE


he makes it glorious...and soon moves outside....

those first few lines:


This day winding down now
At God speeded summer's end
In the torrent salmon sun,
In my seashaken house
On a breakneck of rocks
Tangled with chirrup and fruit,



and later:

Only the drowned deep bells
Of sheep and churches noise
Poor peace as the sun sets
And dark shoals every holy field.



and here at the poem's end:


The water lidded lands,
Manned with their loves they'll move,
Like wooden islands, hill to hill.
Huloo, my proud dove with a flute!
Ahoy, old, sea-legged fox,
Tom tit and Dai mouse!
My ark sings in the sun
At God speeded summer's end
And the flood flowers now.





and while i'm mucking about with your pom, let me give you this "news" about those 18 whiskies...and Thomas drinking himself to death:


Dylan Thomas, the great lost Welsh poet of his century, was killed not by his heavy drinking but by the mistakes and oversights of his physician, according to new evidence in a biography to be published on Monday.

The book discloses that Thomas was found to be suffering from pneumonia by doctors who examined him when he was admitted in a coma to the New York hospital where he died in November 1953 shortly after his 39th birthday.

The discovery calls into question 50 years of assumptions that the author of Under Milk Wood and enduring poems on the holy innocence of childhood died from an alcoholic "insult to the brain" - the result of a binge in which, as he allegedly boasted, he drank "18 straight whiskies; I think it's a record".



Dylan Thomas, the great lost Welsh poet of his century, was killed not by his heavy drinking but by the mistakes and oversights of his physician, according to new evidence in a biography to be published on Monday.
The book discloses that Thomas was found to be suffering from pneumonia by doctors who examined him when he was admitted in a coma to the New York hospital where he died in November 1953 shortly after his 39th birthday.

The discovery calls into question 50 years of assumptions that the author of Under Milk Wood and enduring poems on the holy innocence of childhood died from an alcoholic "insult to the brain" - the result of a binge in which, as he allegedly boasted, he drank "18 straight whiskies; I think it's a record".


https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2004/nov ... .booksnews



bernie

Re: Laugharne

Posted: 16 Jun 2018, 00:04
by FranktheFrank
I visited the

Re: Wooden Shed at Laugharne

Posted: 16 Jun 2018, 09:31
by SivaRamanathan
Which is your final edited poem? Frank, please post it above your first draft. There are so many versions,it is impossible to find out the right readable and usable version.

S

Laugharne-V3

Posted: 16 Jun 2018, 10:00
by FranktheFrank
Not many, just three

Re: Wooden Shed at Laugharne-V3

Posted: 16 Jun 2018, 10:20
by SivaRamanathan
Thank you.

Re: Wooden Shed at Laugharne-V3

Posted: 16 Jun 2018, 20:31
by Bernie01
Frank---


version 3 is smooth.

but i ask again, what is the source for this:

...in drink, debauched in decadence he beat Caitlin for her troubles,
beat that beautiful woman, beat the devil in
.


but still no indication that he was a rock star poet, no indication of his humor, self abnegation, long marriage and unfailing return to Wales...the tireless rewriting, monumental originality of his work.

Perhaps his reputatin has flagged just a bit---modern readers demand poems make literal and obvious sense---i agree, but that noted, and perhaps even a stronger tendency that our age suggests for less self promotion, but lordie....

let's think big....


bernie

Re: Laugharne-V3

Posted: 16 Jun 2018, 22:31
by FranktheFrank
I appreciate your concern Bernie and take note.

Re: Laugharne-V3

Posted: 22 Jun 2018, 11:02
by FranktheFrank
Francesco, the son
Wednesday 2 December 1998

Re: Wooden Shed at Laugharne-V3

Posted: 22 Jun 2018, 21:47
by SivaRamanathan
Frank

Thanks for posting this. We had a similar issue In our forum(Delhi Poetry) Reethika Vaazirani killed her two year old son and then committed suicide. So the moderator wanted to ban Reethika's poems on the site.I love her writing and I sympathize and share the troubles she must have gone through. It is not easy for a mother to kill her own infant. Maybe you should read up on this too.The same story---married to a famous poet.Yusuf K ( don't remember how to spell his name.)

S