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June 14, 2004 Couldn't find a catchy name for this article so I just called it "Remembering the Poets ((I do think they should have their own day));" since I've been twelve years old I've been writing and reading poetry, and have always taken a deep liking for it. Most recently, my book "Sirens," is being reviewed by the Pulitzer Prize board (committee), for 2005 selection. In l983 I wrote a poetic story called "The Tale of Willie The Humpback Whale," [you might have heard of it, it only sold 5200 books so most likely you didn't, in three printings but it was a cute story, I may resurrect it yet]; it also went up for entry into the Pulitzer Prize contest, but was not selected. A few other books never made it into the review board, I don't like bringing them up though. But anyhow, I want to talked about ghosts in a way, maybe add some monsters and the dark side of poetry. I could start off with possibly C.A. Smith, or HP Lovecraft, R.E. Howard, and Poe, lets add Plath. I may think of some more later. But the first three also wrote for "Weird Tales," back in the 20's and 30's. Howard wrote the Canon book series to boot, along with 400-poems. Clark A. Smith, his poetry being almost obscure for some odd reason, and one of the best poets - liken to Goya's paintings or another Keats, people have said. Howard committed suicide at age 30, like Hemingway and Plath [Plath dying just before she got her book "Ariel," out and proclaimed this was her life's achievement]; Lovecraft died of cancer at a young age, and Smith, died in his bed whishing he could have not been haunted all his life, by the macabre demonic tunnels leading to his hidden cabin. Poe, we all kind of know died saying: "God have mercy on my soul," after writing his eldritch tombs leading to hell; I wonder way; all great poets in their own right; even Joyce, with his "Chamber Music," which is poetry written in l907, was much better than his everlasting Ulysses that took 13-years to get all the grammatical errors out of its million word essay. Great poets they were. But in my eyes all these poets are somewhat lost in the winds of time. John Masefield wrote, "A Tale of Troy," the best written book siege of Troy I've ever read, which includes the Odysseus - plan and building of the Horse, of the entrance into Troy. It was a shame to see the recent movie Hollywood produced called, "Troy," almost everything was out of place. They did an injustice to the Poet Laureates of the past. I will mention only a few reasons: Hektor ran around Troy trying to escape Achilles, he did not fight like a man. And they portrayed Paris as a famine weakling, he was not at all. He is the one, who kills Achilles, and Achilles never did make it through the gates of Troy, plus his son, after hearing of his Fathers death, joined the great battle at Troy. And Agamemnon the King was not killed at Troy, but when he got home, his wife and her lover did him in. By-George, let's get this right if were going to take one of the greatest poetic epics humankind has ever produced, right? Helen went back to Sparta and married again; but before that, when Paris is killed, she gets married to his brother Peiphobus. Matter of fact I've been to Troy, in Asia Minor, Turkey, what a thrill. Now let's go on: I hope I got all my names right in the Troy thing, if not, pretty close. Anyhow, poets are lost and its time to remember them: so many of them, and a few like Bly and Ginsberg's, can stay lost for all I care: Ginsberg's notorious for his obscure writings, rotten gut writings, not sure what it proved, was for my l960's counterculture movement-times, when I lived in San Francisco; it must have served some purpose though, not sure what. But I was going to mention the poem that took the world by a storm, "The Man with the Hoe," all but forgotten, one of the greatest poems written I think, by none other than Edwin Markham, although he was [l899] a little angry at God I think in the poem, blaming him or mans misfortunes on. And Poe, I keep coming back to him, with his "Raven," which made him famous, and "Annabel Lee," and "The Bells." He died on my birthday, October 7, but 100-years separated from my birth. Howard Nemerov, has my vote every time; and Karl Shapiro with his V-Letter, or war poems, or his "Person, Place and Thing," poetry, nothing great, but good; and of course there is Sandburg, and Frost, both great. And then there is the queen of Poetry, Emily Dickinson that so may have said: she can't write worth sh_t. To me the test of a good poet is not in how many books they sell in ones life time, it is if they live onto past their life time, and she has lived on past a few life times: case closed to/for the literature genius of the world. There is no one way to write poetry. It is an emotional experience. Picasso, who drew like a madman, was painting his feelings, not what everyone else was seeing. He may have had a heart or mind that reeked with mutt, but it sold, it was his soul that came out in his paintings and for some reason, people liked it. Like the Man with the Hoe, or the poem, "Richard Cory," or the witty Ms Mary Hewitt's, "Spider and the Fly;" or the great World War One poem, "In Flanders Fields." If you are sensitive, you cannot escape their gravity. And then there is that unheard of poet like Edgar A. Guest, who wrote "The Path to Home," l919, a most tranquil book, like Sandburg's, "Chicago Poems." Or Frost's "Mending Wall," again, telling a story to be learned on life and people. Now I shall add one of my most recent poems. Someone said to me, "What if Poe would not have lived," this is my poetic response: Poe's Legacy "If Poe wouldn't have been born?" There'd had been no rapping or tapping- (at least for a while - at my door?) Nor would there had been morbid-beauty with depth and sin That circles the globe: for HPL and CAS. What a mundane life (it would have been) without the devil's pen. I gripped the legacy: lying on savage ground, the third-eye of the hunter, filled with wax - Calls for breath, in the silent Valley of Shock; Thus, stung—I remain, by the fruitless trees Of horror - than I hear a whisper: "Lord, help my poor soul." ------------ About the author: Mr. Siluk is a world traveler, a lover of the mysteries around the world, and has visit many World Heritage Sites, the most recent being Easter Island and the Galapagos. His most recent book: "After Eve," and his 26th book thus far, can be seen on/at Barns and Nobel.com, Amazon.com, Walmart and several other sites. He spends his time between Lima, Peru and St. Paul, Minnesota, and is wroking on two more books: "Stay Down, Old Abram," and "Curse of the Abyss Worm," the second being a suspensful mystery. Visit http://dennissiluk.tripod.com Email: dlsiluk@msn.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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