[Ann Drysdale]

OK - here goes then

Against Rhyming

For U.A. Fanthorpe, who found me weeping on
the road to Jericho, having fallen among critics.

“Rhyme gets you noticed”. But it’s just a flier
To get the punters near the proper stuff.
It’s to free verse a poet should aspire;
Rhyming and chiming isn’t strong enough
To carry messages of any weight
And real involvement in the here and now
Demands the rawness of the naked state
Of language. One can just imagine how
Imaginative thought would feel the pinch
Of being squeezed into a villanelle
Whose rigid metre wouldn’t give an inch
When freedom’s feet demanded space to swell.
Who in their right mind would contrive a sonnet
If anything worthwhile depended on it?

[John Whitworth]

Here's one, though not by me. It was a winner in a long ago New Statesman competition and effectively prevented me from reading the good lady's works. I don't know who wrote it. Probably Bill Greenwell will know. It could have been him.

Higgledy-piggledy,
Dorothy Richardson
Wrote a long novel in
Search of her Muse,
Where, though I wouldn’t sound
Uncomplimentary,
Nothing much happens and
Nobody screws.

[Michael Cantor]

Concocting excuses
to post sad old crap
engenders abuses
all over the map.

When rhymes are all forced
the kingdom is lost.

[Ann Drysdale]

I'm sorry. I won't do it again.

[Petra Norr]

I enjoyed your poem, Ann. Post whatever you want and as much as you want here. The more people the merrier. This is not a workshop.

[Philip Quinlan]

Originally Posted by Ann Drysdale

I'm sorry. I won't do it again.

Dear Ann

I'm not sure I agree with you (if your poetical viewpoint was indeed your own) but that doesn't mean I don't defend your right to say it!

I hope your apology wasn't serious. Why the devil should you apologise?

Publish and let the world go hang!

I think there is a sense, however, in which a great deal more depends on a well-written sonnet than on a wheelbarrow.

Obtainable online (free and gratis) are Sir John Gielgud's readings of the sonnets of WS. Just Google. if you remain unmoved by them I despair.

Bless you

Philip

[Duncan Gillies MacLaurin]

Go to hell, you obnoxious reviewer
who enjoys putting bards on a skewer!
In the course of your piece
you’ve applauded MacNeice
but disparaged a name that’s much newer.

Duncan

[Shaun J. Russell]

I was apparently feeling quite bitter when I wrote this a few years ago...


Artistry

The world, it seems, has lost its sense of art--
The painters and the poets go unknown
To ply their crafts, neglected and alone,
Translating the impetus of the heart.
The critics still exist to tear apart
Each earnest scrap of artistry they're shown:
They snidely crush the spirit, then bemoan
Our lack of modern Monet or Mozart.
The penchant for creation has become
A lonesome avocation, lost for some,
In favour of the humdrum and mundane;
The inward artist, inward must remain,
To drown in shallowness, and try to numb
The harshness of rejection, and the pain.

[Ann Drysdale]

Dear Philip - do not despair.

The sonnet I posted was a piece of devil's advocacy. In a way I am delighted that it appeared so convincing but it was actually published in a collection that included many "straight" sonnets. The poet to whom it was dedicated hardly ever used form. When asked for her advice on how to handle negative criticism, she said that my rhyming "got me noticed" and that the more avant-garde critics saw me as fair game. So I fell on my sword with a grin on my face.

Incidentally I wrote an article on The Sonnet for Poetry News at their invitation after I snuck one under the wire in the National Poetry Competition.

So - thank you for your concern, but you don't have to worry. Much.

[Roger Slater]

Here's some of my own sad old crap:

CRITIQUE

I like this very much, but you should cut
everything that follows stanza three,
maybe change the second yet to but,
eliminate that pompous royal we,
then think about the meter. Are you sure
those anapests you favor don’t create
a sort of sing-song bounciness that pure
iambic verse could help you mitigate?

You might just try this as a villanelle,
or better yet, a series of haikus.
Remember, poet: always show, don’t tell.
And there’s a ton of padding here I’d lose.

I’ve seen your other work and thus surmise
this poem will turn out great --once you revise.