The Long Torture of Delayed Birth

A PERSON FROM PORLOCK
—R.S. Thomas

There came a knocking at the front door,
The eternal, nameless caller at the door;
The sound pierced the still hall,
But not the stillness about his brain.
It came again. He arose, pacing the floor
Strewn with books, his mind big with the poem
Soon to be born, his nerves tense to endure
The long torture of delayed birth.

Delayed birth: the embryo maimed in the womb
By the casual caller, the chance cipher that jogs
The poet's elbow, spilling the cupped dream.

The encounter over, he came, seeking his room:
Seeking the contact with his lost self;
Groping his way endlessly back
On the poem's path, calling by name
The foetus stifling in the mind's gloom.

______________________

In the case of Snake 8, the "long torture of delayed birth" is almost over—as we speak, my Phaser 1600 is crankin' 'em out. Life is 'way better since we moved my printer downstairs, out of Sam's office. Now I can stew over its every little burp and whistle, jump on it whenever it hiccups. In short, Snake 8 will debut its rascally head today and tomorrow, and those of you who have to rely on snailmail will have it soon, as well. As always, my thanks to the many poets who have filled the pages of yet another Snake.

Yesterday's posting lists many of the local readings for this week. Here's one more, from Modesto: The Central California Art Association & Mistlin Art Gallery announces a poetry reading of young writers from Modesto High on Saturday, Dec. 17 at 4pm in the gallery, 1015 J St. in downtown Modesto. English instructor Jennifer Pereira will be bringing 12 of her creative writing students to read, sing, and celebrate their work, including Allison Cisneros, Tim Irvine, Chad Cummings, Courtney Dostie, Lindsay King, Brent Barth, Marina Long, Mara Van de Pol , and Laralyn Murphy. Free; the public is welcome.

_______________________

TO A YOUNG POET
—R.S. Thomas

For the first twenty years you are still growing,
Bodily that is; as a poet, of course,
You are not born yet. It's the next ten
You cut your teeth on to emerge smirking
For your brash courtship of the muse.
You will take seriously those first affairs
With young poems, but no attachments
Formed then but come to shame you,
When love has changed to a grave service
Of a cold queen.

From forty on
You learn from the sharp cuts and jags
Of poems that have come to pieces
In your crude hands how to assemble
With more skill the arbitrary parts
Of ode or sonnet, while time fosters
A new impulse to conceal your wounds
From her and from a bold public,
Given to pry.

You are old now
As years reckon, but in that slower
World of the poet you are just coming
To sad manhood, knowing the smile
On her proud face is not for you.

_________________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)