[Janet Kenny]

This angry old man's poem by the gentle iconic New Zealand poet Allen Curnow uses pantoum form to express his anger and repugnance for the nuclear bomb tests in the Pacific.

go darPacific 1945--1995

go darker stiA Pantoum

goo...if th'assassination
goocould trammel up the consequence, and catch,
goowith his surcease, success; that but this blow
goomight be the be-all and the end-all...here,
goobut here, upon this bank and shoal of time
goowe'ld jump the life to come...

might be the be-all and--Macbeth

Quantifiable griefs. The daily kill.
goOne bullet, with his name on, his surcease.
"The casualties were few, the damage nil"--
goThe scale was blown up, early in the piece.

One bullet with his name on, his surcease.
goLaconic fire, short work the long war mocks.
The scale was blown up, early in the piece--
goHow many is few? After the aftershocks.

laconic fire--short work! The long war mocks,
godragging out our dead. What calibration says
how many is few, after the aftershocks,
of just such magnitude? We heard the news,

dragging out our dead. What calibration says,
goright! You can stop crying now, was it really
of just such magnitude? We heard the news
goagain, the statistical obscene, the cheery

right! You can stop crying now, was it really
gothe sky that fell, that boiling blue lagoon?
Again, the statistical obscene, the cheery
gosalutation and bright signature tune.

The sky that fell! That boiling blue lagoon!
goJacques Chirac's rutting tribe--with gallic
salutation and bright signature tune--
gothermonuclear hard-on. Ithyphallic

Jacques! Chirac's rutting tribe, with gallic
goeye for the penetrable, palm-fringed hole--
thermonuclear hard-on, ithyphallic
goBANG! full kiloton five below the atoll.

Eye for the penetrable, palm-fringed hole,
gowhose trigger-finger, where he sat or knelt down--
BANG! full kiloton five, below the atoll
gohad it off, bedrock deep orgasmic meltdown--

whose trigger-finger, where he sat or knelt down,
gofifty years back, fired one as huge as then
had it off bedrock deep, orgasmic meltdown--
gowhose but Ferebee's--Hiroshima come again!--

fifty years back, fired one as huge as then
gofireballed whole cities while "People...copulate, pray..."
Whose but Ferebee's?--Hiroshima come again!--
gobombadier, U. S. Army? Enola Gay

fireballed whole cities while "People...copulate, pray..."
goNot God fingering Gomorrah but the man,
bombadier, U.S. Army. Enola Gay
goshuddering at 30,000 feet began--

not God fingering Gomorrah, but the man,
gothe colonel her pilot who named her for his Mom--
shuddering at 30,000 feet began--
go'Little Boy' delivered--her run for home:

the colonel her pilot, who named her for his Mom,
goflew her to roost (at last) in the Smithsonian.
"Little Boy" delivered her run for home
golighter by the Beast's birth, her son's companion:

flew her to roost (at last) in the Smithsonian:
goare tourists' hearts and hopes, viewing her there,
lighter by the Beast's birth, her son's companion?
goJacques' Marianne's delivery, is that near?

Are tourists' hearts and hopes, viewing her there,
gopronounced infection-free and safely tested--
Jacques' Marianne's delivery, is that near?--
goWhat effluent, what fall-out's to be trusted?

pronounced infection-free and safely tested
gofor carcinogenic isotope unseen fall-out--
what effluent, what fall-out's to be trusted?
goThe Beast once born, who's answering the call-out?

For carcinogenic isotope, unseen fall-out,
gofor the screaming city under the crossed hairs,
the Beast once born. Who's answering the call-out?
gono time even to know it's one of THEIRS--

for the screaming city under the crossed hairs,
go"The casualties were few, the damage nil"--?
No time even to know! It's one of theirs--
goquantifiable griefs. The daily kill.


quantifiable griefs. The daily kill.October--November, 1995

[Maryann Corbett]

Thanks, Janet. Yes, that's a furiously angry, wild, raging poem!

For anybody who may have missed it: over on TDE, I put out a call for leads to fully formal, rhyming pantoums. Don't feel you must type out whole poems--actually that's not a good idea unless you also discuss the poem a bit--but even the names of poems, their authors, and the books where they can be found would be a help.

Thanks for whatever you can offer!

Maryann

[Janet Kenny]

Maryann,
I typed this out ages ago--it was hell because of all the indentations. It isn't possible for you to look it up I think. He is widely published but I think this one is only found in some New Zealand publications. I don't know any other pantoums that have impressed me. I've written a few just for the challenge but that was ages ago.
Janet

[Janet Kenny]

edited

[This message has been edited by Janet Kenny (edited August 14, 2007).]

[Andrew Frisardi]

Maryann,

Here's a great Donald Justice pantoum. You no doubt know it, but I thought of it as an instance of a very successful pantoum that also takes liberty with the strict form.


Pantoum of the Great Depression

Our lives avoided tragedy
Simply by going on and on,
Without end and with little apparent meaning.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.

Simply by going on and on
We managed. No need for the heroic.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.
I don't remember all the particulars.

We managed. No need for the heroic.
There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows.
I don't remember all the particulars.
Across the fence, the neighbors were our chorus.

There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows
Thank god no one said anything in verse.
The neighbors were our only chorus,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.

At no time did anyone say anything in verse.
It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.
No audience would ever know our story.

It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us.
We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor.
What audience would ever know our story?
Beyond our windows shone the actual world.

We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor.
And time went by, drawn by slow horses.
Somewhere beyond our windows shone the actual world.
The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog.

And time went by, drawn by slow horses.
We did not ourselves know what the end was.
The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog.
We had our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues.

But we did not ourselves know what the end was.
People like us simply go on.
We had our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues,
But it is by blind chance only that we escape tragedy.

And there is no plot in that; it is devoid of poetry.

[Maryann Corbett]

Thanks, Andrew. I found Justice's poem as I was gearing up to try a pantoum, and it surely influenced the direction I took. The repetitions of the form perfectly reflect the resignation, the sense that not much is really possible, that affected the people I know who lived through that time, that "entered [their] souls like fog."

[Marybeth Rua-Larsen]

Maryann,

I finally found one of the rhyming pantoums that I'd been thinking about...Paul Muldoon's "The Mountain is Holding Out." It's not just an AB rhyme scheme, but it is in full rhyme. On the thread below, you can hear Muldoon read it himself...which only adds to its beauty (IMHO). I believe Toni originally posted this on another thread a while back.

Marybeth
http://pplpoetpodcast.wordpress.com/.../paul-muldoon/

[Maryann Corbett]

Thanks, Marybeth. It seems to me I have seen this before--perhaps on VerseDaily or someplace similar--but I wasn't pantoum-aware at the time!

[A. E. Stallings]

If you are looking for rhymed pantoums, I'd greatly recommend Catherine Tufariello's terrific "Zero at the Bone" and Josh Mehigan's fine "Buzzards," available in their books Keeping my Name, and The Optimist, respectively.

[Maryann Corbett]

Thanks, Alicia! I've discovered that Joshua Mehigan's poem has also appeared on Verse Daily.