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06 Sept 21 Bracken Forest II

Remember the Monday post a week ago? Remember how I said I was posting the first of three parts of my poem, “Bracken Forest"? Remember that I explained great admiration for Dylan Thomas’ poem, “Fern Hill”? Today’s post continues my homage to Mr. Dylan’s poem (and to his poetic opus, in particular “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” with its powerful final line, “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Much as I admire the latter poem, I’ve chosen my echo poem, “Bracken Forest,” and continue the parallel but reversed-mirror with “Fern Hill.”

For continuity, I have included the first part of “Bracken Forest,” posted last week. Part 3 will be available soon, most likely next week.


Bracken Forest, Parts I & II

With Deep Bows to Dylan Thomas (1914 – 1953)

I


When I was trembling old near the willow’s shade

             All winds 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

                       Bloated 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



II



                                               Moon long since high – me uncoiled from the burn

                                               Soot and ashes speckled my mourning cloak

                                               streamed purple through ten hundred torch-lit ferns

                                               Ten gray whippoorwills and me clutched our nests

                                               Below, fired weeds too far distant rivers

                                               Pebbled ears, coined eyes, and sleepless shivers

                                               Killing spoiled cherubs won’t keep the long sun  

                                               nor archangels snorts, or prelates’ plainsong 



                                               Soundless claps from miles of copper-clad ferns

                                               Broiling with Lord- ridden horses through fog

                                               Behind them silver foxes rode rare steeds

                                            that chased flying cattle to winter barns 

                                                    where bracken bedding’s fluffed up and kept warm

                       But some have druthers to wait out the storm

                       Cows don’t go gentle no matter their time

                       One death-head for each rode closely behind 

                       I wore black widow’s weeds herding those kine



Background                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

If you remember last week’s post, recall that the type of echo poem that I am experimenting with is not the kind of verse enjoyed in the 16th and 17th centuries in France, England, and Italy particularly in pastoral poetry and drama. Back then, the echo technique repeated the end of a line or stanza thus simulating an echo. The repetition usually included the entire chosen phrase or line while changing the meaning. Neat trick, eh? 

Just to refresh. The approach that The Chairman and I used to post our series of “Echo Poems” earlier this year was to alternate writing a poem and sending it to the other. The receiver wrote the echo poem. Another round, and another, could be engaged; however, this was not our habit.

Exploration 1: Do you think there is a point to writing echo poems?

Exploration 2: Can you spot some of the inverse parallels between Dylan’s poem and the one in this post?

Exploration 3: Describe the place and time “Bracken Forest” takes place.

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