By coincidence, the only two poets I ever heard reading their work live were John Montague and Les Murray, above.
All I can say is that John Montague, although he wasn't great, was the better reader. No words can describe how bad Les Murray was ( I heard him in Australia) and it put me off poetry readings for life. That link doesn't work for me, Margaret - is the article in today's "Guardian" which I haven't got yet? (I only get it on a Saturday)
I wonder what a "Celtic stereotype" can be? - I have never come across anything Celtic in this country, except the odd cross or piece of jewellery.
Here is a poem I like, set in the USA, by John Montague,
All Legendary Obstacles
All legendary obstacles lay between
Us, the long imaginary plain,
The monstrous ruck of mountains
And, swinging across the night,
Flooding the Sacramento, San Joaquin,
The hissing drift of winter rain.
All day I waited, shifting
Nervously from station to bar
As I saw another train sail
By, the San Francisco Chief or
Golden Gate, water dripping
From great flanged wheels.
At midnight you came, pale
Above the negro porter's lamp.
I was too blind with rain
And doubt to speak, but
Reached from the platform
Until our chilled hands met.
You had been travelling for days
With an old lady, who marked
A neat circle on the glass
With her glove, to watch us
Move into the wet darkness
Kissing, still unable to speak.
|