Various lockdown hacks and escapes — 12 — poetry and song

But first a nod to a great Olympic Games result for us here in Oz. Brought back memories of Thorpie in 2000, and Beverley in 1972!

Now to poetry. Here in The Gong, apart from more bad news about the Delta Variant and the lockdown going on, we have had some wintry and very windy days and nights. That there were relevant poems came to mind naturally, the first being noted on my Facebook a couple of days back.

By A E Housman:

XXXI

On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.

’Twould blow like this through holt and hanger
When Uricon* the city stood:
’Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it threshed another wood.

Then, ’twas before my time, the Roman
At yonder heaving hill would stare:
The blood that warms an English yeoman,
The thoughts that hurt him, they were there.

There, like the wind through woods in riot,
Through him the gale of life blew high;
The tree of man was never quiet:
Then ’twas the Roman, now ’tis I.

The gale, it plies the saplings double,
It blows so hard, ’twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon.

*Viroconium or Uriconium, formally Viroconium Cornoviorum, was a Roman city, one corner of which is now occupied by Wroxeter, a small village in Shropshire, England, about 5 miles east-south-east of Shrewsbury. 

On Facebook I wrote: The wind howled through Dharawal Country last night — and has for millennia long before there even was a Rome! Love this poem though — also the source of Patrick White’s novel title, “The Tree of Man.”

Fascinating creative things have been done with this poem. Here is one:

Filmmaker and puppeteer Jeremy Hamway-Bidgood collaborates with Daniel Norman (Tenor), Sholto Kynoch (Piano) and Brodsky Quartet on a new visual interpretation of Ralph Vaughan Williams’s song cycle, ‘On Wenlock Edge’. The poetry is by A. E. Housman from his collection ‘A Shropshire Lad’

In his cramped London flat an elderly Edward remembers his youth in Shropshire and his friend Albert. The two companions battle the elements as they climb Wenlock Edge looking for shelter from the storm…

Enjoy!

To come right up to the present. Through my WordPress Reader I have long been following poet Robert Okaji. His post this very morning is apt.

I Live in My Winter

Removed from the junipers’
fragrance, separated from
prickly pears gracing
the hill, limestone slabs
jutting from thin soil,
and smoke drifting from
a well laid fire on a cold
night. Old, today, I
call the clouds my
birthright, want only
to merge with them
and rain through
another black coffee
in this unfamiliar place,
this new home,
this welcome peace.

Then an Australian song, though written in the USA some years ago — Doug Ashdown’s Winter in America, long a favourite of mine.

Finally, a brilliant image from Blue Mountains photographer Gary P Hayes.

The photographer says: “This image to me particularly represents Australia, along with a few other notables I have taken.”