The Pendragon Papers (9): The Merry Art of Sonnetizing
So, I made Majorca. In fact, I was here yesterday completing the Rabbie Burns paper. My journey here began Sunday morning (its now Wednesday), on the Isle of Arran, from where I proceeded to boat it to Ardrossan, then catch two trains thro pure Burns country to Kilwinning & Prestwick. I eventually flew to Palma on Majorca & join’d my Burnley family in Magaluf. Half board & pool vibes at the Samos Hotel – its not quite me, but I’m not complaining. I am six days from the quarter century anniversary of my becoming a poet, & in the next few days I will be completing my POEMS 1998-2023 collection, & also composing the last of these Pendragon Papers.
Today is a simple one, which needs little explanation, which is kinda handy as I’ve just been playing beach football with my ten-year-old nephew in the best sunshine of the holiday so far. So, the Art of Sonnetizing is essentially turning a longer poem into a sonnet, a simple editorial process that the following few examples should fully elucidate, each beginning with the original & follow’d by my sonnetiz’d version.
John Donne’s 3rd Elegy
Although thy hand and faith, and good works too,
Have seal’d thy love which nothing should undo,
Yea though thou fall back, that apostasy
Confirm thy love; yet much, much I fear thee.
Women are like the Arts, forc’d unto none,
Open to’all searchers, unpriz’d, if unknown.
If I have caught a bird, and let him fly,
Another fouler using these means, as I,
May catch the same bird; and, as these things be,
Women are made for men, not him, nor me.
Foxes and goats; all beasts change when they please,
Shall women, more hot, wily, wild then these,
Be bound to one man, and did Nature then
Idly make them apter to endure than men?
They are our clogges, not their owne; if a man be
Chain’d to a galley, yet the galley is free;
Who hath a plow-land, casts all his seed corn there,
And yet allows his ground more corn should bear;
Though Danuby into the sea must flow,
The sea receives the Rhene, Volga, and Po.
By nature, which gave it, this liberty
Thou lov’st, but Oh! canst thou love it and me?
Likeness glues love: Then if so thou do,
To make us like and love, must I change too?
More than thy hate, I hate it, rather let me
Allow her change, then change as oft as she,
And so not teach, but force my opinion
To love not any one, nor every one.
To live in one land is captivity,
To run all countries, a wild roguery;
Waters stink soon, if in one place they bide,
And in the vast sea are worse putrified:
But when they kiss one bank, and leaving this
Never look back, but the next bank do kiss,
Then are they purest; Change is the nursery
Of music, joy, life, and eternity.
John Donne’s 3rd Elegy
Although thy hand and faith, and good works too,
Have seal’d thy love which nothing should undo,
Women are like the Arts, forc’d unto none,
Open to’all searchers, unpriz’d, if unknown.
If I have caught a bird, and let him fly,
Another fouler using these means, as I,
May catch the same bird; and, as these things be,
Women are made for men, not him, nor me.
Foxes and goats; all beasts change when they please,
Shall women, more hot, wily, wild then these;
Waters stink soon, if in one place they bide,
And in the vast sea are worse putrified:
But when they kiss one bank, and leaving this
Never look back, but the next bank do kiss,
Then are they purest; Change is the nursery
Of music, joy, life, and eternity.
The following poem was initially an experimental attempt to turn Ovid’s poetry into an alliterative, Old English style form.
The Art of Love
Children of cupid note down thy name
First find a fair one worthy of your wiles
Best you believe all women may be won,
Cool & confident her heart is your home
Music or movie sit still by her side
Her beauty is both the playhouse & play
Speak & with speed for Venus loves the brave
Say her face is fair, her eyes are like skies
Both maids & matrons bare their beauty dear
Blood warm’d by wine fair spirits flame & flow;
Lust multiplies with each draught that you drink
Choose not for certain if the day is drunk
For wine gilds women with looks & laughter
Promise her presents to charm her armour
Be never finical but be seen clean
Be aware of your hair & trim thy chin
Wear rose fashioned clothes like men of milieu.
Sing if a singer & skim thro the skills
Of dance if endued with rhythm & grace
Believe in her beauty & women moved
They freely think she merits man’s amour
Yet race when we chase altho’ if thee slow
& see you slacken then there she will stay
Her kind is cunning concealing their zeal
The female is forced e’en to her true desires
But come the kiss & passion is expressed
There leaves but little rusing for the rest
Which now thou gaineth not, by arm or art
The claim of clown shall suit thy due desert…
THE ART OF LOVE
(from Ovid)
Children of cupid note down thy name;
Best you believe all women may be won,
Promise her presents to charm her armour,
Wear rose-fashion’d clothes like men of milieu,
Be aware of your hair & trim thy chin,
Say her face is fair, her eyes are like skies,
Blood warm’d by wine fair spirits flame & flow,
Lust multiplies with each draught that we drink,
Choose not for certain if thy day is drunk
For wine gilds women with looks & laughter,
Speak & with speed, for Venus loves the brave,
& females forced e’en to their true desires,
Then comes the kiss & when passion express’d
There leaves but little rusing for the rest…
The next poem was initially compos’d upon a walk to Baga beach, Goa, February 2002
THE EAR CLEANER
Stepping out one golden Goan morning,
Drowsy with the sunken sun’s adorning,
I was content to be in nature’s hand,
Soul freshen’d as bare feet sunk into sand,
Treading the curv’d glide of Anjuna beach –
A red & rocky hillock headland reach…
From out of nowhere stept a wizen’d man,
“Sahib! Guide you yonder the hill I can!”
“Lead on!” & as our destination nears
He begs to wipe the dirt from out my ears,
Shows Western praises in his little book,
“OK my friend!” from both my ears he took
A big, black gungey alien of wax…
I pay him well & further round the tracks
We turn the rugged roll met by the view
Of Konkan coast careering into blue…
I shook the hand that scrubb’d my hearing clear
Said fond farewells & watch’d him disappear
Then faced the estuary, baggage held high,
Slow waded to a sunblisst beach to dry,
Where first I found the profits of his fee
I’d never known how sweetly sounds the sea
THE EAR CLEANER
After reaching India I spent some time on
going about the country
Ghandi
Stepping out one golden Goan morning,
Drowsy with the sunken sun’s adorning,
Content was I to be in nature’s hand,
Soul-freshen’d as bare feet sunk into sand,
From out of nowhere stept a wizen’d man,
“Sahib! cleaning your hearing well I can!”
Shows Western praises in his little book,
Black blocks of wax from both my ears he took
I shook the hand that scrubb’d my hearing clear
Said fond farewells & watch’d him disappear
Round red & rugged hill flank’d by the view
Of Konkan coast careering into blue,
When first found I the profits of his fee
I’d never known how sweetly sounds the sea!
This final poem was compos’d as part of my Bohemia sequence in 2004
THIS IS MY CONTREE
Good Morning Great Britain
Still great, still Britain
The sun is shining, 10:45 AM
£296.26 pence in my pocket
Time to bet it all on black
& hit the road again
But if time is a mere scratch & life is nothing
& nothing that occurs is of the slightest importance
From Aberdeen to Birmingham, Arundel & Deal
From Dullis Hill to Rotherham, Bristol & Peel
From Inverness to Liverpool, Leeds & Palmer’s Green
From Lewisham to Padiham & all the pubs between
From Badminton to Twickenham & Barton-in-the Beans
From mud, thro blood to the green fields beyond
Til my bardic breath expires
This is my Time,
This is my Rhyme,
This is my Contree
THIS IS MY COUNTRY
Good Morning Great Britain
Still great, still Britain
The sun is shining, 10:45 AM
£296.26 pence in my pocket
Time to bet it all on black & hit the road again
If time is a mere scratch & life is nothing
& nothing that occurs is of the slightest importance
From Aberdeen to Birmingham, Arundel & Deal
From Dullis Hill to Rotherham, Bristol & Peel
From Inverness to Liverpool, Leeds & Palmer’s Green
From Lewisham to Padiham & all the pubs between
From Badminton to Twickenham & Barton-in-the-Beans
‘Til my bardic breath expires
This is my Time, This is my Rhyme, This is my Country!
Conclusion
Wow! That was quick – obviously there was some prep undertaken before I set foot on the plane, but I have now completed two Papers in two days on Majorca – I can do this, despite the sunshine!
Mumble Words 