[Susan McLean]

Bruce Bennett:
“Ballade Of Seasonal Deliveries” is executed with the same high level of skill, but is not nearly so transparent.


......BALLADE OF SEASONAL DELIVERIES

‘Warde Fowler gives a very apt description of it
(chaffinch song) in one of his books. He compares
the manner of it to a bowler running with quick
steps up to the wicket and then with an overhand
turn of the arm delivering the ball . . .'

...........- Viscount Grey: The Charm of Birds

The stage revolves. The cast emit
....Preliminary doh-re-mis -
Twee-tweet! Pink! Pink! Pee-peep! Twit! Twit! -
....Then, gathering volume by degrees,
....Recall descriptive recipes
Not only viscounts may extol,
....Such flights as those whose apogee's
A chaffinch, running up to bowl.

The yellow buntings beg a bit
....Of bread, but specify no cheese,
Whereas their brown relations sit
....On posts and wires and jangle keys,
....Though stars eclipsing even these
Touch chords to plumb the very soul -
....The prime example, form decrees,
A chaffinch, running up to bowl.

In spring, the great or ox-eye tit
....Sounds like a cycle-pump's thin wheeze
And reeling notes rare warblers hit
....Make anglers tremble at the knees
....While starlings imitate with ease
The song that strains the self-control
....Of long-deprived Test devotees . . .
A chaffinch, running up to bowl.

Envoi

....Prince, can you hear? 'Beginners, please!'
Prepare to play a striking role.
....Your cue? The overture's reprise,
A chaffinch, running up to bowl.


As we begin reading, we’re not sure what the “Seasonal Deliveries” of the title may be referring to, and, while we recognize that the epigraph is comparing the song of the chaffinch to a bowler in cricket, we may know next to nothing about cricket. It turns out, however, that in this poet’s expert hands we will have little to worry about. Though every detail and reference may not immediately be crystal clear, the ride itself will be a joy.

Stanza one begins with the metaphor of a revolving stage and a “cast,” who, since they are emitting “Preliminary doh-re-mis,” are presumably performers in some sort of opera. The third line charmingly enlightens us as to who these performers are, and the fourth lets us know they are getting louder. I don’t understand why the louder bird sounds “recall descriptive recipes,” but I am swept up in the increasing auditory excitement which finds its “apogee” in that delightfully dotty image, already introduced in the epigraph, of the chaffinch “running up to bowl.”

Ornothologists (I’m not one of them) will likely have a field day with the succeeding two stanzas. I don’t know what the call of yellow buntings sounds like, nor who “their brown relations” are whose song sounds like the jangle of keys, or who those other “stars” are, in whose ranks as “prime example” is the “chaffinch, running up to bowl.” I do get an idea of the sounds of “the great or ox-eye tit” and “rare warblers” from the jaunty descriptions provided, and the starlings seem to be imitating our star chaffinch whose song “strains the self-control/Of long-deprived Test devotees.” But who are they? Is that a cricket term? Still, I don’t greatly care, since I’m being so royally amused by the aural high jinx going on raucously all about me.

Which leads seamlessly into the direct address of the Envoi. How could the prince too not be charmed and amused by this production already in boisterous progress? Sing on, you chorus of birds. The best is (because of the requisite repetition of the ballade’s form) about to begin yet again. The chaffinch commences his approach.

[Philip Quinlan]

Well, the epigraph "narrows the field" as far as authors go. I had a copy of The Charm of Birds when I was a young lad. I'd be guessing Mr Whitworth's at the crease here (being a cricketing man), with Ms Drysdale as possible "runner up" (being a birdy sort).

"A little bit of bread and no cheese" is actually the yellowhammer, rather than the bunting, but no matter.

Can't comment on the form, but the conceit is good, and well-executed.

Philip

[Petra Norr]

I admire the rhyming in both of the ballades and both of them flow so well. I should have mentioned that when I critiqued the other.
This ballade is very well written, and I also think it's well composed. I have a teeny nit: the poem opens with a theatrical performance; there's a stage and a cast consisting of the birds. And does that really mesh with the cricket bowler at the end of S1? Theatre + cricket = mixed metaphor? I'm not sure, but I think it's a little strange. Is the theatre allusion necessary?
The theater stuff comes back in the envoi, and I have to say I really get lost there. My fault surely -- it goes right over my head. For instance, who is the Prince? All I can think of is Hamlet. Possibly the phrase "striking role" applies to both theatre and cricket, and the same may be true of the word "cue" -- and in that case there is finally justification for what earlier felt like a mixed metaphor. Well, I guess I'd sum up by saying the poem is very well written with nice details. But personally, it's not my cup of tea.

[Philip Quinlan]

Oh, I don't know, Petra. I think games like cricket are more theatre than sport. Theatre in the round. Or, possibly, The Oval? Costumes. Exits and entrances.

P

[Tim Murphy]

Oh yes, just masterful, and cricket? One morning, with the worst hangover of my life, I was dragged out of bed to sub with the Yale Freshmen against the Jamaican National Team in my first and only match. I think they beat us 20,000 to zero. When they put me in the outfield I asked "Don't I get a baseball glove?" Thanks for the memory!

[Catherine Chandler]

I agree with Bruce. Charming.

[Maryann Corbett]

There's a note I hear in the poem that I'm not sure Bruce has pointed to directly: a sly background chuckle at the sometimes-odd similes and metaphors for birdsong used in bird books. I, at least, find it laughably strange that a bird expert would use the motion of a bowler to get at the sound of a chaffinch, and I think this poet does too. Lots of other descriptions in the birding handbooks have often struck me as odd. It's the "recall" of those "distinctive recipes" that is the poem's real subject, I think.

Perhaps I'm guilty of hearing my own prejudices. But I do think I recognize this poet's very distinctive voice.

[T.S. Kerrigan]

Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum, I sense the pen of an Englishman, and a very skilled one at that.

[Michael Cantor]

I'm having a problem with this one because I can't decide where it's aimed - and possibly the writer can't either, and is trying to have it two ways. I want to love it because it's a silly spoof of silly bird call descriptions - but it's not quite silly enough. And I want to admire it as a frenzied tribute to a birdacious, bird-filled spring - but it's a little too silly.

Basically, I agree with Maryann's read. I think the intent of the poem is to riff off and build on the chaffinch song description in the epigraph - and possibly the problem is that it's almost impossible to surpass that for good old, solid Rule Brittania inventiveness and dottiness, which may explain my confusion.

In a sense, this poem reminds me of an old Billy Collins favorite, Litany, (can I mention his name without being booed) which takes a similar approach of playing it straight on the surface, but ridiculing metaphors along the way - but I think the Collins poem is more successful, in a way, because it leaves no doubt that it's a spoof.

I think that if this one were tweaked, with a greater sense of inanity in the comparisons, and a stronger indication of direction, it could be wondrous, As it is, it's a delight, but kind of falls between the cracks for me.

[David Rosenthal]

This I like. I read it along the lines of Maryann's reading -- a sort of spoof on the birder books, where song and color descriptions can sometimes be as wacky as wine descriptions in foodie circles, only somehow more endearing. I get the form here. It frames the poem in a faux seriousness that highlights the spoof, and the repetitions come off as a sort of understated sarcasm to me. Nicely done.

David R.