Bob, I am no enemy of the vernacular, the guttural, the dialect in poetry, I
hope I champion some of that myself.However I hear the music in that and in
fact I heard the most eloquent and musical monologue from a lady in the Post
Office while waiting for my pension last week. I am working on that at the
moment. I also recognise the poem needed that. If its any consolation I have
just spent 12-99 buying a collected poems of Auden from WHS this morning.
opened when I was stood there and the first poem I see is the one about the
Roman Wall, eh?
I shall stay with my simplistic reading of the poem as an indictment of a
society that would allow Santa to be mugged. If a poet can be mugged then
none of us are safe. Regards Arthur.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Bob Cooper" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, June 25, 2002 11:36 AM
Subject: Re: Before The Last Bus For Alston


> Hi Tom,
> Yeh, I want this t be a poem about Santa getting beaten up too! That's
what
> y see, that's where I'm wanting t take yer.
>
> & Hi Arthur,
> I take what you're saying about its music seriously... it may be that this
> is altogether an urban poem where loudness and fragmentary listening are
> part of how music is heard... I know it is a very loud poem!
> Yeh, I guess the subject of poetry often seems to get very involved - but
> hopefully not subjective. (Ha! For other reasons I've been collecting a
few
> poems about poems over the years, and I guess most people only write one
of
> them. I hope I don't write another!) There's many other underlayers of
> prompts and ways I know I was responding to things lurking beneath this
poem
> as well. I've had it hanging around waiting for some stimulii - and, in
> posting it to the list, it got what it needed! I can hear it wanting to
say
> thank you!
> My thanks for all the comments from all of you!
> Bob
>
> Anyway, what it now looks (and sounds!) like:
>
>
>
> Before The Last Bus For Alston
>
> After watching the shoving we heard the first punch.
> and his hood came down, the beard came off,
> then his red coat ripped when one, a Tyneside Roman,
> grabbed him, head-butted him twice.  Then he slumped,
> just lay there as the kicking began.  It was Auden.
> Nowt changes for ye, does it?  Now be telled.
> So they up-ended his sack, yelled and crouched down,
> shook then pocketed some presents, swapped others,
> but one was too bulky to cram under a coat. Laughter
> until the smallest, dressed as Franco, looked up
> and, grinning, came over to me. Take it, he hissed.
> It was thick gold paper with a red ribbon, and heavy.
> He waits.  I smell his beer.  The bus doors swish open.
> I don't refuse.  How can I.  It's Christmas.
>
>
>
>
> >From: arthur seeley <[log in to unmask]>
> >Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
> >To: [log in to unmask]
> >Subject: Re: Before The Last Bus For Alston
> >Date: Tue, 25 Jun 2002 07:00:20 +0100
> >
> >Yes a long reply. I think I did indicate that I felt the abrupt style was
> >deliberate Bob and suited to the subject. I may be boorish but your
offered
> >reading of the poem is still not available to me even though I am now
privy
> >to the dense( as in profuse) allusions of the piece. I can see it but it
> >does not come easily or readily. You will know that I too like to hear
the
> >vernacular and dialectics of language so it is not that that tells me
there
> >is no music. I have read this out loud and no music comes. Regards
Arthur.
>
>
>
>
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