30 August 21 Bracken Forest

Remember a ways back this year when The Chairman and I posted a series of “Echo Poems,” wherein we took turns writing a brief poem, followed by the other’s response in the form of a poem that “echoed” elements of the first in mood, wording, and style? Well, today’s poem, “Bracken Forest,” has a different twist on the echo method. It started with Wednesday’s Child sending me a poem by Dylan Thomas titled “Fern Hill.” I was immediately so impressed by the poem that I couldn’t help but write an echo poem in honor of Thomas’ most excellent poetic creation. An homage if you will. 

I definitely do not compare myself with this master; however, if he were still alive, I think he might fight me for copyright infringement, or a happier response would be his finding my piece amusing, if not worthy of a comparative analysis by some doctoral student - a response that would receive no attention at all, which may be the fate of “Bracken Forest,” as well.

Surprise! My poem is the first of 2 or 3 parts (haven’t decided). The second is written but needs crafting; the third is in its embryonic state. 

Stay awake. 

Bracken Forest

With Deep Bows to Dylan Thomas (1914 – 1953)

I

When I was trembling old near the willow’s shade

             Light’s wind gone down – All shouts and star-climbs done

 Once honored, then a discarded blunt blade

bracken ferns turned brown before the frost

jester in black-flecked peaked hat and gown 

kept by the Horse Prince hated by the town

Lady’s Slipper crouched in fire grate ashes

Three sisters dancing down the falling stairs

Silver-haired I and burdened – true-blood-mad 

Moping gardens’ skirts – drooling damned man

Elegant time a mercy raging by

Twelve white elects strip furies from my roots

Bloating fish bellies drowned my unlimbed lyre

I am too raving wild to raise disputes

Salt-pepper wolves howl treble clefs three times

Midnight crushes one note with each clawed step

Background

Dylan Marlais Thomas, a Welsh poet and writer, was born in Swansea, Wales in 1914. In 1931, when he was 16, Thomas, an undistinguished pupil, left school to become a reporter for the South Wales Daily Post, only to leave under pressure 18 months later. 

Thomas first travelled to the United States in the 1950s. His readings there brought him a degree of fame, while his erratic behavior and drinking worsened. His time in the United States cemented his legend. During his fourth trip to New York in 1953, Thomas became gravely ill and fell into a coma. He died on 9 November 1953, and his body was returned to Wales. On 25 November 1953, he was interred at St Martin's churchyard in Laugharne.

Although Thomas wrote exclusively in the English language, he has been acknowledged as one of the most important Welsh poets of the 20th century. He is noted for his original, rhythmic, and ingenious use of words and imagery. His position as one of the great modern poets has been much discussed, and he remains popular with the public.

It is generally agreed that his most famous poem is “Do not go gentle into that good night . . .,” and his most famous prose work is “Under Milkwood,” a radio drama.

Exploration 1: Do you think it is acceptable to write a poem in honor of another poet’s work? If so, please say why you think so. If not, give your reasons.

Exploration 2: Have some fun. See how many “echoes” you can find in my poem.

For your reference, here is Dylan Thomas’ poem to which I wrote the “echo poem” above.

Fern Hill

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs

About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,

     The night above the dingle starry,

          Time let me hail and climb

     Golden in the heydays of his eyes,

And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns

And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves

          Trail with daisies and barley

     Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns

About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,

     In the sun that is young once only,

          Time let me play and be

     Golden in the mercy of his means,

And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves

Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,

          And the sabbath rang slowly

     In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay

Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air

     And playing, lovely and watery

          And fire green as grass.

     And nightly under the simple stars

As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,

All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars

     Flying with the ricks, and the horses

          Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white

With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all

     Shining, it was Adam and maiden,

          The sky gathered again

     And the sun grew round that very day.

So it must have been after the birth of the simple light

In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm

     Out of the whinnying green stable

          On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house

Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,

     In the sun born over and over,

          I ran my heedless ways,

     My wishes raced through the house high hay

And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows

In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs

     Before the children green and golden

          Follow him out of grace,

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me

Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,

     In the moon that is always rising,

          Nor that riding to sleep

     I should hear him fly with the high fields

And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.

Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,

          Time held me green and dying

     Though I sang in my chains like the sea.