Gerard Manley Hopkins is my beloved poet. I won't say favourite because it is going too far to narrow ones likes to one. I have many favourite poets. Hopkins collected words as he went about his day. He kept a notebook. I do the same and I call my notebooks Words after Hopkins and I number them. I am now up to book 3 since I finished my Masters. That is six months. They are school exercise books. I also write lots of things in my Word books, not just lists of words.
Alliteration is the repetition of the same consonant sound in a line or lines. I used alliteration and assonance in my poetry in my dissertation. Hopkins was the master of words. Here is an example of Hopkins alliteration from Pied Beauty where he is praising God for nature
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle; dim;
and in God's Grandeur:
and all is smeared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
and wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Assonance is the repetition of the vowel sound as in soil, toil, smeared, bleared.
You will find alliteration and assonance in all of Hopkins poems.
Hopkins was the master of this and I greatly love his work and he was always with me when I was studying for my Masters. This morning he is with me again.
Here is a poem from my dissertation. It is unlikely to ever be read or published by anyone. I wrote it after Hopkins poem Hurrahing in the Harvest.
Hurrahing in a Time Machine with Gerard Manley Hopkins
the sun shone well before
breakfast from dawn until midday
i made the most of it in meadows
and picked buttercups, soldiers buttons and
squeezed the milk of
dandelions on to my hands
and spread it slowly across
my palms and watched it
ooze overboard
i heard a sound behind me and
i saw gerard manley hopkins.
i waited until i
fell in step with him.
i asked what he saw when first he walked here.
he stared ahead of him:
he saw not Drax
nor druids, dams nor drones, he said.
and at roads he rushed to run across.
what is that sound that spoke of wheel?
he beckoned me to save him
as if his soul across the skies
could mix with mine
and knot, not i i thought.
i cursed the car
and grabbed his hand his saviour
and looking west to where
the sun would set blank went
he stopped in front of stooks and me.
O God he called and
Holy Spirit come, a pause, ah,
pleaded pity now the people
O God the politicians
the patience long departed
pledged in piety lost in lies
despair disparity dwindled
the poor perhaps St Peter
comes for past purpose pitched
i listened, lizards passed
i laughed, he looked long divided
laggards to his left he lurched
in vertigo less noble knight.
i rubbed the dandelion milk on to my face
and kicked the kissing gate and
the loose libertine
last night lost leeward. i
heard him plead O God
again and groping greenery
he waited and took the rosary rued
regret and in a rash run
he dropped his pocket book, paused and
peed upon the poppies, peewits
perfect peace on earth obey.
he'd left the lure of lloyds,
the lancet to bridges
seven siblings longing lonely
he took the lord the longitude
ignatius loyola
and disappeared to liverpool
That is my poem for today. Today is Maundy Thursday in Holy Week. the day of The Last Supper.
Gerard Manley Hopkins was the oldest of 8 children and he was to join his father's business in insurance, particularly of sea vessels and trade. (He would have been greatly troubled and stretched in his work in shipping insurance at this time now during the turmoil in the Straits of Hormuz and spare a thought for those in ship broking and insurance right now). However, Hopkins broke his family's heart when he converted to Catholicism and became a Jesuit priest. They severed links with him. His friend was Robert Bridges who became a doctor, and later the poet laureate. Bridges helped Hopkins with his poems, edited and eventually published them after Hopkins died. This is a little explanation of the last six lines of the poem. Hopkins was profoundly influenced by Ignatius of Loyola and finding God in all things.
I have never tried writing a poem. Did that poem come to you in one go , Rachel, or it shorter periods. I can imagine you may have pruned and polished it , quite a few times,
ReplyDeleteI like alliteration and assonance,
I remember some compete poems frop school days, but remenber many more passages,
One in partucular, by Tenneson.
'The old otder changeth, giving place to new and God fulfills himself in many ways, lest one good order should corrupt the world. It seems to hang in the air amd always makes me feel slightly heart broken,
I understand it more than when I first read it.
Sunny here today, Rachel but stil a cold wind.
enjoy your day
Kathy
The poem came to me very quickly although now the actual writing of it is a blur but it did come together quickly, I am sure of that. I like the old poets such as Hopkins as well as many of the contemporary ones of course. I remember words from school days too, especially The Tyger by William Blake, also about God's creation. I have grown to understand poets like Ted Hughes more too although my Professor told me that these old poets are rarely taught now. I think that is a shame. I stuck to my guns though by mingling modern poets with some of the old poets in my studies. Horrible day here. Wet, windy and cold.
DeleteGlory be to God for dappled things - the first line which sticks in my mind ! A wonderful poet. Sheila
ReplyDeleteHe was a truly great poet Sheila. He never thought so himself and considered himself rubbish which is why nothing was published until after he died. He refused to let any poem be published. x
DeleteThat your poem is "unlikely to be ever read [...] by anyone" has already proven not to be the case - at least three of us here have it read now! And while I can not even begin to pretend to understand it, I seem to detect a sense of urgency and of a mix of emotions in it that I could never express in such poetic words.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was about 12, a short poem came to me as I was sitting on the top of the three steps leading from the kitchen back door out into our small garden, on a warm evening in late spring or early summer, and another one around the same time one early morning when I looked out of my bedroom window first thing and spotted the neighbour's black and white cat underneath a yellow forsythia shrub.
I have never written those words down, but have kept them in my mind, and as I am getting older and missing my Dad and the youthfulness that my Mum once had, I find myself returning to those words more often.
Thank you for including some feedback on my poem in your comment Meike. It is appreciated. In a nutshell, the poem describes me on a country walk and I bump into my poet "hero", Gerard Manley Hopkins. He lived some 150 years before me so we discuss the things that he would not have seen and the changes. I could write an essay desccribing the meanings line by line. I think the urgency that comes through that you felt is that it was because the meeting was a brief encounter which would not last long and he would "melt" away as quickly as he had come.
DeleteI understand your feelings coming into your head now re. your parents and childhood. The first poems I wrote on my Masters course went back to my childhood and some to the time my father died, one actually recounting the entire afternoon of his death. I found it very cathartic to share these things others in poetry because they are episodes not easily talked about and I had never been able to share them before. xx
Your poem is exceptionally good Rachel. I loved the rhythm of it all. I like this bit particularly:
ReplyDeletethe poor perhaps St Peter
comes for past purpose pitched
i listened, lizards passed
i laughed, he looked long divided
laggards to his left he lurched
in vertigo less noble knight
When you write a book, include your poems. Many people would love to read them. x
Thank you so much for this comment Simone. I long for words that express as you have done. I also have a favourite part of the poem and it is so good to pick the words out like this, it seems to give each part a strength of its own, singly and in part. I am so used to criticism that I think I am a bit like Hopkins, I think my poems are rubbish. I rarely put any poems on the blog because in the past I have received such horrible comments. Thank you. xx
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