For Whome the Bell Tolls, the old and the new.

Devotions on Emergent Occasions by John Donne
Now, this bell tolling for another, says to me, thou must die

 ...No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; 

every man is a peece of the Continent, 

a part of the maine; 

if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, 

Europe is the lesse, 

as well as if a Promontorie were, 

as well as if a Mannor of thy friends

or of thine owne were; 

any mans death diminishes me, 

because I am involved in Mankinde; 

And therefore never send to know 

for whom the bell tolls; 

It tolls for thee...

Not originally written as a poem but part of a longer segment of prose, this scholarly piece of religious writing has taken on a life of its own. It's hard to think of it as anything other than a poem, although of course it has spawned more literary writing than could possibly be searched on google.  It of course spawned the very famous book For Whom the Bell Tolls (Ernest Hemingway 1940) about Robert Jordan, a young American in the Spanish Civil War. Which of course led to another piece of "poetry" one that is even more famous than the other two, if google is to be believed.

But wait.  First - how did I find out about these pieces of writing?  I'm poorly educated in literature, after all school taught me literature is boring, there's no plot, and quite frankly honest I have the attention span best suited to children's books. The answer is of course, Metallica.  I knew nothing about Bells or tolling until I heard their song and in fact I dare say most people my age or younger would be the same.

 So here I am, about to be subversive.  I've heard that poets are.  Let's say that Metallica not only write poetry, but they are bloody good at it.  Almost undoubtedly the "real" Metallica fans would run screaming from the idea of poetry.  And to be fair, poets would run screaming from the idea of Metallica.  So now that I've annoyed pretty much everyone, and you're the only person reading, hopefully nobody will mind if I post a wee section of the lyrics up -- 

"...all is gone

except the will to be
Now they see what will be, 

blinded eyes to see

For whom the Bell Tolls..."

Burton, Clifford Lee; Hetfield, James Alan; Ulrich, Lars

If you want more, then google is your friend - although non metal-heads beware there's about two and a half minutes of guitar before the lyrics actually kick in. Which is ok if you like that sort of thing.  And I do.  Enough to go to their concert last year and be blown away by everybody from grannies to children exposed to lyrics that had a good deal of literary input.  In fact why don't I annoy a few more people and say Metallica are a bit like Shakespeare in terms of coalescing well known fragments of literature into a new whole designed entirely for the masses.

 

So all these people are being exposed to fragments of literature including a religious devotion whose essence was that when one person dies, we are the lesser; the importance of trust and following one's heart in "Nothing Else Matters," the complex lullabye "Enter Sandman" (I particularly love the Never Never Land reference, but the lyrics also encompass an old fashioned prayer, and use it in a delightfully sinister way.)  Magical is it not?  And these fragments are bound together by someone who has the ability to play with language at a level that is far more than skin deep.  This is the essence of poetry, is it not?  Albeit poetry produced with a sense of drama I as a writer have not even aspired to -- the music, the special effects, the sense of occasion, millions of fans pouring over the words to gather meaning, to find solace in their lives, deal with addiction, and identify with the emotions.  In fact I decided I should follow their example, and so for my next poetry reading there will be...

lasers and jets of fire... 

It'll be great. 

So there we have it, I dare you to take my hand...off to Never Never Land.  Peter Pan, Captain Hook and all the back Metallica tee-shirted lost-boys are probably still there, in the mosh pit almost a year later, and they're unlikely to come back either.  They had too much fun - with... poetry - and unabashed showmanship.  It might not be pretty, it might not be the best literature ever, but it is exciting.  And I dare say For Whom the Bell Tolls will inspire many others to read, write, listen and enjoy.

Cheers,

A.J. Ponder

(and yes this is a re-hash from something I wrote last year so I hope it's not too disjointed, but I'm always fascinated by how ideas move through different mediums, and how different shape and form can bring new meaning while still, to some extent, holding onto the old.  It also turned into a rather interesting conversation where - desperate to prove me wrong - Michael started naming Metallica songs he thought wouldn't be very poetical.  He had to stop himself - twice - before getting to a couple which we all agreed had no poetical merit - but by then he had rather proved the point.)

A.J. Ponder's work is available through Rona Gallery, Amazon, and good Wellington bookstores

The Piano Twins

The pitter-patter of tiny skid missiles in the 
morning

Black and white heads at the door.

Waking is easy

With this music

Ringing my ears.

No such thing as pianissimo -

Allegro and

Asleep

A.J. Ponder

 

 It's been one of those weeks, like running into a locomotive and finding two kittens inside.  Amelia has thoughtfully given them one of my last intact squares of felt - a particularly nice blue and white piece.  Sigh. 

Anyway I cannot judge the quality of the poem, it was written this morning on not enough sleep, and the sound of something not unlike a herd of tiny elephants, tinkling across the wooden floorboards of Michael's room.  The two have rather taken to Michael, and having refused to let him sleep, have been reassigned to temporary quarters at the last minute tonight.     

And the kitten's names?  Amelia called the little black and white one Simon (yes, Firefly reference) and Michael decided his would be Sheldon (The Big Bang Theory), after all he's definitely pretty white and skinny.  Although Amelia had the last laugh when she pointed out the actor who played Simon Tam also played Sheldon on Warehouse 13.  Michael gave the kittens their other nickname S and S sharp, because, of course, the terms "ebony" and "ivory" are banned - we are after all keen conservationists here, even if we do consort with cats.  

 

Images below

More cat poems: 

Cat-World Problems

Accounting for Herbert

Queen of the Chair

Lucy Sirvid

born? - 15/06/2011

A.J. Ponder's work is available through Rona Gallery, Amazon, and good Wellington bookstores

The Portal to Fairy Tale Poetry

As a bit of a late birthday bash I decided to do a little Fairy Tale Poetry Portal this week - So here are a few links to Fairy Tale poems (alphabetical), and the portal poem is below

A Cloak for a Fairy by Anonymous
"Spider, Spider what are you spinning?"  An old favourite that might not precisely be a fairy tale, but still...

A Pict Song by Rudyard Kipling

To be fair, this may not be so much a "fair folk, or "little folk" poem, so much as one celebrating the power of the powerless

A Sonnet to the Muse by A.J. Ponder Are demons fae? Are the muses fae? Probably. This sonnet to the Muse is a little darker than some of the others. And all sonnet-y. Click on it if you dare. 

Elegy for Jabber, by A.J. Ponder
Lewis Carol got it wrong... a science fiction take on the original fantasy.
 
The Fair Folk/The Fairies, by William Allingham
Up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen... need I say more?

 Fairy Land, by William Shakespeare; If You See a Fairies Ring (Anon); and I'd Love to be a Fairy's Child by Robert Graves.

Fairy Tale, by Katherine Mansfeild

I'm not entirely sure how to describe this poem, but it's worth a visit.  Even though I'm not sure I've managed to wrap my brain around what exactly she was thinking when she wrote it.  

Fairy Song by John Keats
Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year....

Fey by Helen Lowe 
This careful poem starts with an open door...

Frozen by A.J. Ponder
A poem referencing Hans Christian Andersen's Snow Queen and C.S. Lewis' White Witch as much, if not more than the Disney adaptation, Frozen.

Happily Never After parts one, two and three - 
Where the narrator and the characters of a play have very different ideas.

The First Chorus: by Catherine Bateson

Inspired by the little mermaid

In the Wood of Finvara, by Arthur Symons
"I have grown tired of sorrow and human tears..." 

Jabberwocke, by Charles Dodgeson (Lewis Carol)
Absolute favourite.  What can I say.  Utterly charming and brutal. 

 

Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf, by Roald Dahl:

A famously twisted Little Red Riding Hood tale.

Not my Best Side: by U. A Fanthorpe
The Dragon the Princess, and the Warrior Saint all have a turn to talk in this witty poem. 

 Rapunzel’s lesson: by PS Cottier
 Rapunzel's story turned sideways

Robin Hood and Alan a Dale: Anon
True loves course ever runs, well let's just say this is a very sweet traditional ballad

The Sleeping Beauty by Sir Alfred Tennyson, telegraphic really.  
A sweet image of Aurora sleeping.

Snow White, by A J Ponder
Snow White always seemed too sweet to be real, (although I admit I preferred Snow White and Rose Red, at least she wasn't just waiting around for some male to rescue her - she was too busy rescuing the male - and that's how I remember it even if it's not exactly true - so please no contradictions). So anyway this is the whole beauty and the beast side to the idea that white and pretty and sweet is good and we should not be seduced by such fantasy. Ask any diabetic.

The Stolen Child by William Butler Yeats
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake...

Stolen Time, by Alicia Ponder
...And twenty years, they rushed by
The night I passed that way...

Truths and Fairy Tales, by A J Ponder
Or should that be lies and fairy tales?

 

Tuesday: A Poem:
While some might argue it is not exactly a fairytale, it is a legend to celebrate Tyr, the Norse God of Tuesday, and left handed god of the sky. My lines were: "but the righteousness of battle; a sinister champion of single-armed combat, under the sky." - because of course, I couldn't resist the double meaning of the word "sinister" and was hoping like mad nobody else would put it in first.

This Way to Grandma's, by A J Ponder The wolf is taking you up the garden path, run along now.

The Portal

I hold the world in my hands

A portal to forgotten lands

Where prince and princess

Kind and able

Welcome the pauper to their table

Where Knights are brave and true and free

And lies are guilded falsity

Come open your Window

Of links and code

To discover a long forgotten Ode

A palace great and glittering

A magic bird upon the wing

And dare to stride

the forest dim

To save all that was lost within

Go now, I say, while you are able

Enjoy the rhyme or hate the fable

See picts and pixels,

Take my hand,

And come explore this wondrous land.

A.J. Ponder 

To me fairy tale and fantasy are almost synonymous, although of course the traditional legends and fairy tales are of marked importance because they have survived, and they have survived for a reason. They say something about life that is important, so important that it is best couched in metaphor, or in an enhanced setting. There is a romance attached to these pieces, but more than that they speak to the soul in a way that facts and reality so rarely do.

Find my stories and support my writing on ko-fi 

And tell me which poems you'd like to see in my upcoming poetry book—2024?  

https://ko-fi.com/ajponder

Lament - otherwise known as Brains on Toast

Since I've been having rather a busy week - driving up to Auckland, meeting up with lots of writers and having fun here's a fun poem.  Next week I plan to compile links to fairy-tale poems.  I've got a couple in mind, but if anybody has any others that would be great.

The Zombie's Lament

Food

Food

Brains

Toast

The Teenagers Lament

Food mumble

Food mumble

Brains mumble

Toast.

A.J. Ponder 

Under the Surface

Deep,

deep 
in the ocean

a story squirmed on a hook.

I tried to reel it in

struggling to the surface,

but my calamari twisted

just out of reach -

not yet ready to loosen its hold to life.

I wanted to taste the sea,

smell the sweetness

of lemons on fried fish,

I wanted most things

a writer wants

when an idea plays with them,

dangling wantonly,

before diving into the depths of the ocean.

In aggravation

I tried to pin it down with words

and pull it in,

my monster.

Its slippery skin

refused the invitation,

wriggling in meters,

drumming its eight legs to the beat of the ocean.

Squid, octopus, monster of the deep

opened an enormous maw

and sucked me in

until there was nothing left

but

teeth

inky paper

and stories

lurking

deep

deep in the ocean.

 A.J. Ponder

It seems Lorraine is right - I often cannot seem to help but want my poems to tell a story.  And the sea is definitely a recurring theme.  Maybe it's because it's so close, breathing in and out like an old friend, but more likely it is the fear - the "Here be Dragons" marked on the borders of maps; the giant squid, the octopus my father caught that tugged him around several bays in the sounds; the sharks; the stingrays, so silent and dark, like barbed shadows in the water... or maybe it is simply an inability to see clearly through to the sands and stones below.  I'm leery of the "big-bath", have been since I was old enough to speak.  Now don't get me wrong, I do sometimes go swimming, rational fears and irrational fears not being the same thing.  But there is something enticing and frightening about the ocean, something almost alive, so that even if only the friendliest minnows lived inside, I think there would be the fear of not coming back. And still the catch fascinates us, we are happy to sit in boats all day with a line over the side, trying to catch the big one, the one that got away.  For writers it is much the same, the patience, the work, the hope, the one that got away, and the deep dark fears that we tease out from as deep a water as we can find.

Click here for more links to fairytale poetry, some mine, and some from other great authors. 

 

Find my stories and support my writing on ko-fi 

And tell me which poems you'd like to see in my upcoming poetry book—2024? https://ko-fi.com/ajponder

Tuesday Poem: Ouroboros

Endings
Endings
Beginnings swallowed whole
Endings
Endings

  A.J. Ponder 
 
A cheaty poem today.  Having quite a busy week, lots of Rona Gallery things - including a great event at Rona Gallery, where we gathered in honour of Kate De Goldi and she talked about her book, "The Ten PM Question" and read from her new work, which was awesome - and I rather blithely having offered to put on a play was rushing around finding anybody brave enough (or gullible enough) to take on a part. And now there's an exhibition with advertising to go out, catalogues to do... not to mention a chapter to write, a book to crit... how do I get myself into these messes?

Stolen Time

 In the forest late at night
As the moon was shining
I thought I saw a fair one

Out at midnight dining

A blanket and a basket

A wine of claret red

A bosom warm as dawn

On which to lay his head

I blinked and all t'was over

The night was sped away

And twenty years, they rushed by

The night I passed that way

The fair one he was restless

And jealous of the Day

And fair he held her close

And bid her come his way

She spoke her words so warm
And smiled like winter sun
And when she laughed it burned
Twenty years undone

Now in the forest late at night
When sister Moon is swollen
I beseech her there to free
The years that Day has stolen

But sweet Day, so young and fey  
I do protest in vain
Though my bones turn ashen grey
I love you just the same

A blanket and a basket
A wine of claret red
Your bosom's far too warm
For a mortal's bed

 A.J. Ponder 
 

I love the classic fairy tales of lost time, the deadly romance of it all (mostly the deadly bit) and so this is my homage to those tales and poems (they had such a wonderful way with rhyme and metre) of my misspent youth.  And talking about misspent youth - received "Tiny Trouble" in the mail - thanks to Pearson's Journal, "Comet" and it looks fab :)  Also posted off the paperwork for "Legendary" (co-written with Peter Friend), which will be printed in their "Explore" magazine soonish.

If you love poetry, try out the Tuesday Poem hub http://tuesdaypoem.blogspot.com/
or for more fairytale poetry click here to my Fairytale Poetry Hub

Cheers,
A.J.