Slessor

[Heather]

I'll put this here for discussion rather than steal Matt's thread.

North Country
Kenneth Slessor

North Country, filled with gesturing wood,
With trees that fence, like archers' volleys,
The flanks of hidden valleys
Where nothing's left to hide

But verticals and perpendiculars,
Like rain gone wooden, fixed in falling,
Or fingers blindly feeling
For what nobody cares;

Or trunks of pewter, bangled by greedy death,
Stuck with black staghorns, quietly sucking,
And trees whose boughs go seeking,
And tress like broken teeth

With smoky antlers broken in the sky;
Or trunks that lie grotesquely rigid,
Like bodies blank and wretched
After a fool's battue,

As if they've secret ways of dying here
And secret places for their anguish
When boughs at last relinquish
Their clench of blowing air

But this gaunt country, filled with mills and saws,
With butter-works and railway-stations
And public institutions,
And scornful rumps of cows,

North Country, filled with gesturing wood–
Timber's the end it gives to branches,
Cut off in cubic inches,
Dripping red with blood.

[David Campbell]

Lots of fascinating images there..."gesturing wood"; "Stuck with black staghorns, quietly sucking". Thanks for posting this, Heather. Slessor's Beach Burial has always been memorable for me.

Cheers
David

[Heather]

There are some interesting images. I quite like "gesturing wood", "Like rain gone wooden, fixed in falling," "smoky antlers broken in the sky;" and " this gaunt country, ......,"

Heather

[Bob Pacey]

I fail to see any images created by that type of phrase ? I find much better vision in sonething like " Have you seen the gentle breezes sway the ghost gums late at night " I thought there was a section for free verse where this could be discussed?

[Heather]

This section is for General Poetry Discussion Bob and it is valid to discuss a poem here - there's no stipulation that any discussion has to be about rhyming poetry.

I find "Have you seen the gentle breezes sway the ghost gums late at night" boring, unimaginative and incredibly generic. It's telling, not showing.

What I love when we discuss another poet's poem is that I learn something new every time. I've had a look at Kenneth Slessor's biography and he had an interesting life. He was a friend of Norman Lindsay.

Heather

[Bob Pacey]

Sorry but I beg to differ in both cases.

General Poetry Discussion
( Discussion of any bush poetry topic. )


Please define bush poetry for me again ?


Australian Bush Poetry is metred and rhymed poetry about Australia, Australians and/or the Australian way of life.

I'm not saying do not have the discussion

Bob

[Bob Pacey]

Yeah Right !

[Neville Briggs]

Bob, Slessor's poem is about the bush. It is about Australia.

To be brutally honest Bob, I think that trying to correct Slessor is like trying to instruct Leonardo how to draw.

And if you look closely you should be able to discern that it is not really " free " verse, Slessor has used a metric pattern of iambic feet ( maybe it could be said trochaic with a unstressed first syllable to the line, I'm not sure exactly ) which is common to " bush " poetry.

The theme and the metre are the main ingredients of any poem. Rhyme is optional as it is really just a decoration, so if we choose to, we can add a rhyming scheme if that is our song.

As Heather and David are saying, the point is, we can learn something here about expression and poetic imagery as we go off to pen our rhymes.

[Heather]

Slessor's poem is very much about the Australian bush. I didn't even notice that it wasn't rhymed because I was so engrossed in the imagery - in other words, it didn't matter. The way he expresses himself really makes you think about the image - it's not given to you on a plate.

Heather

[Heather]

Country Towns
by Kenneth Slessor

Country towns, with your willows and squares,
And farmers bouncing on barrel mares
To public houses of yellow wood
With "1860" over their doors,
And that mysterious race of Hogans
Which always keeps the General Stores….

At the School of Arts, a broadsheet lies
Sprayed with the sarcasm of flies:
"The Great Golightly Family
Of Entertainers Here To-night"–
Dated a year and a half ago,
But left there, less from carelessness
Than from a wish to seem polite.

Verandas baked with musky sleep,
Mulberry faces dozing deep,
And dogs that lick the sunlight up
Like paste of gold – or, roused in vain
By far, mysterious buggy-wheels,
Lower their ears, and drowse again….

Country towns with your schooner bees,
And locusts burnt in the pepper-trees,
Drown me with syrups, arch your boughs,
Find me a bench, and let me snore,
Till, charged with ale and unconcern,
I'll think it's noon at half-past four!


This is my favourite Slessor poem, maybe because of my love of history. He captures the scene so well and funnily enough there was a shopkeeper family of Hogans in Kilmore and the signs on some shops are just as ancient as the ones he describes. It's a great little poem full of lazy Sunday sunshine.