on John Kinsella on J. H. Prynne, briefly.

Is attempting much, or being accused of it, simply for the forced sophistication of doing it, too much to ask for? Regard this excerpt from John Kinsella on J. H. Prynne: “It is a strong example of the Prynne lyric in which tensions between external social, political, and economic forces and interior, personal, emotive, and reflective [...]

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Helen Vendler is def. fer sure the hack I suspected; or, why Kay Ryan is a ltd., pseudo-poet.

To read a review by Helen Vendler on Kay Ryan’s new dreck, is tantamount to being lowered into a vat of acid that will not kill one, only scald till one’s eyes bleed. Who selected this most unworthy poet as the Poet Laureate? I should have his job/head delivered to the local morgue for inspection. Anyways, Vendler selects [...]

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Rain

The Rain was grey before it fell         And through a world where light had died There ran a mournful little wind That shook the trees and cried.   The rain was brown upon the earth,     In turbid stream and tiny seas—” In swift and slender shafts that beat     The flowers to their [...]

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Kay Ryan should keep on trying.

An article in the Critics section of The New Yorker (April 12, 2010) is dedicated to the Poet Laureate of these United States Kay Ryan. Sigh. Ryan is known for her ee cummings like line formation and her oddly placed rhymes, I think. Anyways here is the original portion of text of one of her poems quoted [...]

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A Reminder…

I also maintain a blog over at http://mikemccullough.blogspot.com/ it contains examples of poetry I’ve written. That is all, Thanks!

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Lines Written Abroad

I HAVE but left my pleasant home     And native vales, to die!– Ah wherefore did the wish to roam, So wildly o’er my spirit come,     And urge so temptingly ! My Mother !–thou wilt hope in vain,     Thy wandering one’s return:– ‘Twould calm the bitterness of pain, If once on thy dear face again     My [...]

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The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every bust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; [...]

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An Ode

The Spacious Firmament on high, with all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. The unwearied sun from day to day Does his Creator’s power display, And publishes to every land The work of an almighty Hand.   Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up [...]

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The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll

The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright– And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the [...]

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The Philospher and the Lover: to a Mistress Dying

Lover Your Beauty, ripe, and calm, and fresh, As Eastern Summers are, Must now, forsaking Time and Flesh, Add light to some small Star. Philosopher Whilst she yet lives, were Stars decay’d, Their light by hers, relief might find: But Death will lead her to a shade Where Love is cold, and Beauty blinde. Lover [...]

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