Once Works Well was pure technology. Now it seeks merely to divert.
Pansy subjects - Verse! Opera! Domestic trivia! - are now commonplace.
The 300-word limit for posts is retained. The ego is enlarged

Sunday, 26 April 2009

Sneaking it in by the back door

Aldous saw paintings - live - through half-blind eyes,
Took dope that opened doors on newer views,
Entrapped the pulse of Razoumovsky’s sighs,
Rendered the latest vice as headline news.
To lust and slander, filthy language, rage
Our modern world, said A, has added speed.
A vice beyond the vision of this sage
Reflective, gentle writer’s formal creed.
But in a youthful, optimistic year,
Unfettered by his cloudy mystery,
I rode astride a source of whining power,
Seeing the corner’s coming trajectory.

Contained, uncertain, in a changing state
Embracing, letting fear accelerate.


The Crow said...

BB, this is good! (Actually, it is great, but I say that so often where you are concerned, that I was afraid it would sound redundant and, therefore, insincere.)

You keep surprising me with a talent you keep saying you don't have. Quit it, man, and accept that you are, indeed, an artist!

This is a powerful piece, exciting, one I must read several times to get all the meanings and nuances inherent.

Barrett Bonden said...

My tendency towards self-abnegation insists on the addition of "... for a beginner". However, I do greatly appreciate your comments and I feel some reciprocity is in order. That initial suggestion you made about watching paint dry continues to be important. The mundane is a better row to hoe since it is less trammeled by others' footsteps. My aim is to become the Poet Laureate of Can Openers.

The Crow said...

You know, because of you, I am learning things, fascinating things, I likely would never have known. That Aldous Huxley painted, for instance, or that he was partially blind.

I didn't think to look beyond his writing (the little of his work I've read!) to know something of the man behind the words.

Thank you, O Gentle Poet of the Mundane, for introducing me to worlds that might otherwise have slipped by unnoticed.

Julia said...

My favorite moments in poetry are when lines say something I've seen but never thought before - "Seeing the corner's coming trajectory" is just right.

Barrett Bonden said...

Thanks, prof. I had no idea of that line when I started

Relucent Reader said...

Like the Aldous Huxley allusions, esp as a lead-in to the heart of the poem.
Please, keep 'em coming.

The Crow said...

By the by, what motorcycle is that in the photo?

Barrett Bonden said...

The Crow: It's the preternaturally clean engine of a Triumph Speed Twin, a version of which Cro-Magnon machine I once owned and have blogged about in my youth.

The Crow said...

I thought so. My very first ride on a motorcycle was on a Triumph, big heavy beauty. I was sitting behind my first husband (to-be, at the time), holding on for dear life. We rounded a long curve in the road near his home and he leaned so far over into the turn I thought we would crash. I tried to sit upright and he yelled for me not to; later, he explained that sitting upright at that moment would have caused us to do the very thing I was hoping to avoid.

John's Triumph was a beauty, lots of chrome, maroon tank, black leather seat, noisy tailpipes; very, ver-r-ry rumbly engine. I was hooked from that moment on, even if it did take almost an hour for my legs to stop trembling.


Barrett Bonden said...

The Crow: When the guy at the handlebars leans into the curve and the passenger leans the other way, the two weights balance out and the bike goes straight on. To the detriment of the scenery and the riders. A photograph of my Speed Twin can be seen on my October 7 2008 post. It was equipped with the evil spring hub about which I expatiate.

Avus said...

Liked that a lot, B.B.

T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia) said "A motorcycle, with a touch of blood in it, exceeds all riding animals on earth". He, of course, rode Brough Superiors, so he knew about these things.

Your poem reflects those feelings