Poetic Justice

Blast you.

I won't do what you tell me.

Except buy Killing in the Name Of.

One click to defeat the frightful Cowell. Even Lazy Poets can do that.

Jolly good.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkuOAY-S6OY

Dinah's Winter Poem

Dear All

We finished last night's Seasonal LPPG with a short and slightly unseasonal reading session. Due to time constraints (and my reading The Lunch Poems almost in their entirety), Dinah was unable to read her poem. Which is a shame as it is incredibly beautiful. Here it is

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

London Library Members Defy Blitz

Frank O'Hara

Poem

Lana Turner has collapsed!
I was trotting along and suddenly
it started raining and snowing
and you said it was hailing
but hailing hits you on the head
hard so it was really snowing and
raining and I was in such a hurry
to meet you but the traffic
was acting exactly like the sky
and suddenly I see a headline
LANA TURNER HAS COLLAPSED!
there is no snow in Hollywood
there is no rain in California
I have been to lots of parties
and acted perfectly disgraceful
but I never actually collapsed
oh Lana Turner we love you get up

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeGqE1sqpn4

A Poetic Bit of Fry and Laurie

Fry: "Time fell wanking to the floor". What does it mean?

Laurie: It's a quotation.

Fry: A quotation? It's not Milton and I'm pretty certain it can't be Wordsworth.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx_YY_frOvQ

A Lazy Poetic Welcome to Ezra Glaser-Smyth

It is with immense happiness, albeit of a wearying sort, that we welcome Ezra Glaser-Smyth to the LPPG.

Although only a few days old, he is already far smarter than most of the original members, far better behaved, far better-looking and, if that book mark is anything to go by, far better read.

I know all members will summon the requisite vim and welcome him warmly.

To mark the occasion, some verse by his namesake. It is suitably gloomy, but also rather amusing. Congratulations Adam and Eliane!

Song in the Manner of Housman

O woe, woe,
People are born and die,
We also shall be dead pretty soon
Therefore let us act as if we were
dead already.

The bird sits on the hawthorn tree
But he dies also, presently.
Some lads get hung, and some get shot.
Woeful is this human lot.
Woe! woe, etcetera . . . .

London is a woeful place,
Shropshire is much pleasanter.
Then let us smile a little space
Upon fond nature's morbid grace.
Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera . . .

Lazy Person's Poetry Group 2 - Return of the Killer Poetry Group

After the runaway success of the first Lazy Person’s Poetry Group, the members dragged themselves off the sofa to try again. Indeed, our motto could read: If at first you succeed in some form or another, give it another whirl at some point. Only in Latin and that.

The meeting was held on Friday 16th October at the apartment of Ms Katherine Davey in sunny Walthamstow, north London. The poems were chosen by Mr David Cross and Mrs Emma Simon. They were:

Archaic Torso of Apollo by Rainer Maria Rilke and The Excrement Poem by Maxine Cumin (both Mr C)

The Sunlight on the Garden by Louis MacNeice and The Mermaid Tank by Stephen Knight (Mrs S)

Also in attendance were:

Ms Rose Dawson
Mr James Kidd
Dr Dinah Roe
Dr Adam Smyth

Events kicked off optimistically - Ms Davey had pre-arranged food and so everyone was in high spirits as we turned to Rilke…though not for long. A challenge indeed, not least one of translation. Mr Cross kindly brought several versions of the poem (not to mention a suitably hunky headless statue), although the one up for discussion was by Stephen Mitchell. This had also been used in The Bookgroup, where Mr Cross had first heard the poem read. Now as then, much focus lasered onto the final lines: You must change your life. The interpretations varied from the self-help to the creative.

We moved, like a mountain-goat leaping up a sharp incline, nimbly to the MacNeice. Two attitudes diverged in the room: Dr Smyth seemed unhappy with the poem’s finale, feeling it a sell-out; others, including Simon herself, took a more positive stance. This was all done with the utmost refinement, of course, and made for an interesting debate about the poem’s jagged inconsistencies.

The Excrement Poem was scooped up with enthusiasm, read on the whole as a naughty-but-nice interrogation of notions about taste and disgust, what it means to be human and what poetry can achieve when it gets its hands dirty. The Mermaid Tank was similarly unfamiliar to everyone present – it too inspired plentiful, if slightly hasty discussion, not least about what a dugong might be. Luckily Mr Cross had dived into google like an eagle with an eyeful of fish.

It seemed almost impossible to believe that a second meeting had occurred. Speaking for myself, I had been flabbergasted to get as far as one. And yet we left, the verse for poetry (apologies) and ready for a third get-together. See you then.

A Belated First Meeting PSpotify

One final note about the first meeting should be made. During the genial opening ceremony, each member declared their name, job and favourite recent song. These were later gathered, by Dr Roe, for a Spotify playlist. Little wonder she got that PhD. For the record, these were:

‘Sixty Minute Man’ – Roe
‘Rocket Man’ – Smyth
‘Fade to Grey’ – Glaser
‘Fire’ – Simon
‘Golden Brown’ – Cross
‘The Man Who Sold the World’ – Davey
‘Razzmatazz’ – Dawson
‘Silver Lady’ – Goddard
‘Victoria’ (Kinks) – Kidd

spotify:user:dlroe:playlist:1X2Z8pBswBj0UPT2Tkxo4n

LPPG First Meeting

The inaugural meeting of the Lazy Person’s Poetry Group took place at Rose Dawson’s flat in Hackney on Thursday 10th September 2009. I apologise for the delay in posting this post - ironic given the recent post strike - but it is a Lazy Person’s Poetry Group.

Present at this historic occasion were:

Mr David Cross
Ms Katherine Davey
Ms Rose Dawson
Dr Eliane Glaser
Mrs Alex Goddard
Mr James Kidd
Dr Dinah Roe
Mrs Emma Simon
Dr Adam Smyth

The poems under discussion were as follows:

Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s The Woodspurge

Wallace Steven’s The Idea of Order at Key West (http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15749)

Cut by Sylvia Plath (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deuS9B1DfIc)

Cut Grass by Philip Larkin.

The Larkin, in the end, wasn’t discussed thanks to interest in the Rossetti and Stevens above all. Some Quantum Curry-ordering also took its toll. Writing shortly after, Kidd noted:

“Special thanks to Rose, for her hospitality, her way with ordering curry, and her sensitive appreciation of Plath’s prosody (if that is the word I am after). To Adam and Katherine, for choosing such rich poems and having such good things to say about them – I could have close read all night.

Honourable mentions go to Eliane and Disraeli* – or sharp critiques and for boosting our numbers by 1 (or perhaps 0.92 at this stage of the final trimester) – and to Emma whose work and family pressures I know might make a poetry group hard to squeeze in. Sharp criticism as always – your paper is most lucky. Alex is clearly extremely naughty for being tardy, but brought Jeffreyesque art criticism and careful attention. Dinah and David both read beautifully, and made very clever comments on a regular basis.

To be honest, I lost utter track of the fine things that were said - incisive questions asked and difficulties teased out, if never quite resolved. I loved reading The Woodspurge as a twisted nature poem by a city boy that offered some odd form of poker-faced consolation – or did it?”

It was noted that the poems were generally of a depressing cast, with an especial focus on cutting things. Of especial note were interpretations of The Woodspurge as a nature poem written by a non-nature poet; of the blind alley provided by non-existent religious subtexts; about how downright depressing it was; and how surprised everyone seemed for liking it.

Stevens was even more challenging, in no small part because the chicken Marsala had arrived. Discussions ranged from the idea of voice, place and time to who on earth Ramon Fernandez thought he was. Dinah – an American – noted how American the poem was, flouting a European tradition into which DGR for instance fit like a glove. Or should that be a hand into a glove?

Curtailed discussion of Plath followed: of especial interest (though I do say so myself) was the slippery tone used in Cut, which evaded straightforward interpretation. Depressing? Yes and no…What a voice.

A fine time was had by all. A second meeting was mooted. Most to the point, poetry was the winner. Hurrah.

*A final final note. In the weeks following this email, Disraeli was born to Drs Smyth and Glaser, only now he is Ezra. Poetic justice indeed.

Welcome to The Lazy Person's Poetry Group

Hello. Tired of wading through mires of sludge-like prose? Bothered by book groups that demand you read an entire book? The cheek of it. Feeling the absence of rhyme and anapests in your life? Welcome to the Lazy Person's Poetry Group.

I was like that, you see. Unpoetic and feeling a little blue. Asking around the cleverer and better-looking members of my acquaintance, I realised that others felt as I did. So, with their help, I decided to create the Lazy Person's Poetry Group.

In essence, it is an occasional meeting of minds and friends - some old, some new - who mourn the absence of verse in their everyday tooing and froing. The premise is that the members choose a few poems . Not too many, mind you; that might verge on the un-idle. We meet and chat about them in whatever way occurs: formally or (if you'll pardon the pun) informally; with head or with heart; with love or distaste. Wine should flow. Pizza fly. And criticism cut the air like something sharp but ethereal.

The poems are presented about a week in advance of the meeting. Members can read, study and prepare, should they wish to. Or simply turn up and say the first thing that comes into their minds. Unless that thing is: "Where did they put the purple bungers?" Inappropriate for discussing, say, a love poem by Robert Wyatt.

The rest will be made up as we go along. The first meeting is tonight: Thursday September 10th 2009. If you never hear from us again, you can assume we disbanded before we even began. Feel that crazy pathos. I hope, however, it will be the first of many. If we can rouse the energy, that is.