Bob,
Thanks for all this, which must have taken some typing. You and your
"post-modern". You make it sound like one of those "you play it funny, I'll
play it straight" jokes (self-mocking). I found out recently that the term
post-modern is used in about 7 different ways according to the discipline
studied - (an architect and a physicist would use it differently)- no doubt
in equally datable ways. But I think the poets were in there first and so
you are on firm ground.
Looking at other people's titles I find that a successful title appears to
introduce the poem and then gains extra signinificance once the poem is
read. A hard process to emulate. Often I find myself with a poem looking for
a title, rather than a title looking for a poem.
Colin
----- Original Message -----
From: "Bob Cooper" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, August 05, 2003 5:39 PM
Subject: Re: oldsub/title
Hi Colin,
Argh! - Poem Titles!!!!
I wish I knew where they kept themselves hidden. If I knew where they
lurked, knew where I found them, I'd willingly let you - and everyone -
know!
All I do know is that I sense know, particularly with my own stuff, when
they don't fit! (Sometimes I've spent worried hours pouring down contents
pages of other people's books hoping to see something that may give me a
clue what to do!)
All I do know is that the word "Sometimes..." is needed every time I try and
think about how they turn up.
Sometimes - they come from the poem itself (a phrase, word, that doesn't
mind being lifted out and slotted on top.
Sometimes - they turn up when I look at the piece a few days later and they
seem to turn up fresh and unannounced.
Sometimes - they come out of a phrase somebody else uses for the piece.
Sometimes - they come from a cliché/quote/saying that I've known for a long
time but see in a different light when put near the poem.
But, wherever they turn up from, I rarely find them easily, or by any
didactic process allied to the poem. I sense I sort of see them as a way of
introducing the poem. A way of saying "hello" to the reader. I also
recognise that some people never read the titles anyway. (And I've sometimes
been puzzling over a poem and not looked back to see how the title was
trying to help me!).
But it's the finding of a title that baothers me. I guess it's like looking
for a pair of shoes. They've got to feel comfortable, they've got to fit,
they've got to look good - but that may mean hours in all the different shoe
shops. And the shop you (I mean I) buy one pair from may not have anything
that fits the next time you call!
But, if anyone else has any advice, I'm more than ready to read!
Bob
PS - the title you're suggesting sounds like an invitation to me. I think,
if I saw it, I'd want to start reading what followed it... But others may
think "Nah..." (and not catch the smile I can feel coming onto my face as I
expect to read something not as serious - something more postmodern? - that
I feel must follow such a title in 2003!)
>From: Colin dewar <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: oldsub/title
>Date: Mon, 4 Aug 2003 21:03:00 +0100
>
>Not looking for further crit on this poem. Not that I mind but I've had it
>already (too verbose and so on). I just haven't had time to put it into
>effect. Much appreciated, thanks, but am looking for advice on the title.
>I'
>ve become interested in titles recently. The original title was "Islands"
>and I've changed it to "On the eve of her death by drowning." If it's any
>help the poem is about splitting as a defence mechanism and how it may be
>paralleled by the dissociation between the ideal and the real in Platonic
>philosophy. Never expected the reader to unpick all that but to recognise
>currents in human experience by way of an extended metaphor. The new title
>is intended to extend the parallel. Does the island of the protagonist's
>despair represent her own bad self and her death by drowning suicide
>arising
>from it? Or does it represent a fallen world (her exile from Eden) followed
>by an attempt to be at one with her ecstatic vision? A person's creed may
>reflect an intra-psychic conflict and in such circumstances it's hard to
>say
>which is the driving force. At any rate it offers the possibility that they
>may act in synergy and result in extraordinary action. Why a female
>character in the title? I suppose because women are more likely to
>internalise their aggression than men, according to some. A man would
>probably go out and start a war, a crusade perhaps. Also because I'm a
>sucker for the politically correct. Half of my ancestors were women and
>half
>of any possible descendants will be too. So it's fair enough...or is it?
>Alternative titles would be welcome.
>
>On the Eve of Her Death by Drowning:
>
>From this island the shale-grey sea
>is the same sea that appears
>
>from that island over there:
>whale-black by shade of cloud
>
>or by evening light a bar of gold
>level on windless water.
>
>It is the same sea I gaze upon here
>with my knees in a swamp of sphagnum
>
>where the bog slumps down.
>Sulphuric bubbles make space for my feet
>
>till they bump stone like the bones of a rotten beast.
>On this island arctic air
>
>cramps my hands as they rest
>rheumatic on sodden wood.
>
>Clegs strike and assail my bare shoulder.
>Rooted like a wind-bent tree I stare
>
>at reflections on the altering water:
>the volcanic vent of the sun
>
>under ice-cap moon in salty blue.
>On this island bracken scratches my thighs as I move on.
>
>I come through forest where spruce prickles
>and drips dampen cloth.
>
>The rain falls like freezing glass.
>I walk till I come to the cliff and can go no further,
>
>marooned on this island.
>The face I bear to the slanting light
>
>is different from the seal's face
>that stares back with calm black eyes
>
>from its weight-bearing home.
>This island is not the same as that island over there
>
>where the slim pharos flares and gulls
>line the through-draft on their island,
>
>nor the same where stags roar over the sound
>from their shore of sand,
>
>who by night dine on globe flowers and the leaves of tangy sorrel.
>This island is not the same
>
>as that island
>where I would dwell if I could
>
>to gaze on the sea
>as it shifts from shale to jade green;
>
>the same sea
>that finds its way thus far inland
>
>and surrounds with its inlets,
>fingering their way into awareness
>
>and invading my darkest dreams with silver light,
>taunting with warmth drained from the sun
>
>that I cannot meet with my skin nor teeth bite.
>This island has its own history and cannot be other than it is.
>
>Its berries are bitter
>even as I encounter
>
>on looking out
>an intractable delight.
>
>______________________________________
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