New blog & publishing date announcement

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My e-book, From Moonrise till Dawn: A Cycle of Poetry and Songs is to be published by NordOsten Books on 7th June, which is my dad’s 90th birthday.

This is half a year earlier than the planned date. The original idea was to make new recordings of all the poetry and songs before publishing the book. But now the book’s ready, so we’re going ahead with publishing it.

I have posted a few old recordings on the relevant pages at my new blog and will update as I make new recordings. I intend to post recordings of all 128 pieces. About ten of these will be performed by Christian Meonia George.

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Alternative cover image

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“Night Adventure”, a water colour by my sister, Julia MacLaurin, 1993, privately owned

Now “till” is with a small ‘t’ and doesn’t sit on the figure riding the fish:From Moonrise Forside 2 300 new

I still think the ”till” is too close to the figure riding the fish, but perhaps we’ll stop here for now as Julia wants a picture taken of her water colour when it’s not behind glass.

One photo later and one day later this is how it looks:

From Moonrise Forside 3 300

In memoriam Paul Christian Stevens

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Paul Stevens

At The Flea

Paul Stevens, who created and sustained the entirely original online poetry journals, The Shit Creek Review, The Chimaera, and The Flea, died peacefully yesterday in the presence of his family.

Unaware of this, I was up most of last night. I’d asked Patricia Wallace Jones the day before about whether I could use the two illustrations she did for two of my sonnets in The Chimaera and The Shit Creek Review for my forthcoming book. She’d said that would be fine, and she was sure Paul wouldn’t mind. I’d told her I was interested in having more of her illustrations in my book, and last night we discussed this at some length.

Paul was born in Sheffield, Yorkshire, but lived in Australia for most of his life. He was a teacher, a poet, and a free spirit.

I’ve written a four-liner for him that will introduce the penultimate section in my forthcoming collection:

It’s no surprise, yet still a shock
that you, my friend, have passed away.
You taught me how to turn the clock
around: each night it’s someone’s day.

To think of all the people Paul has introduced to each other!

Poem for a Birthday by Douglas Dunn

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“Poem for a Birthday” was published 1½ years ago in a small collection called Invisible Ink, and it featured in The Guardian shortly afterwards.

Here Dunn is no doubt giving a nod to Larkin’s, “Born Yesterday“, not only thematically, but specifically in L3: “It wasn’t yesterday.”

L3 also shows us that Dunn is composing this poem on his son’s birthday eleven years after the birthday celebration that he is describing. “Almost to the hour” (L4) is a discreet message to the poetic impulse that has occasioned this piece. Dunn is in nostalgic mood. Dunn’s only son, Robbie, was born in January 1987 (when Dunn was 44). Dunn separated from Robbie’s mother when Robbie was ten, the two children remaining with their mother. Dunn has often chastised himself for being a failure as a father. First remote, and later on absent.

The title may well be a reference to Sylvia Plath’s seven-part poem of the same title, which in turn echoes Theodore Roethke’s Lost Son sequence.

My guess is that Dunn wrote this 16-line poem on his son’s 16th birthday. His coming of age. This would mean that the magician was hired for his son’s fifth birthday, which also seems like a likely age for this kind of entertainment.

In the poem there is the idea that Dunn is now the (absent) entertainer at his son’s birthday, and that he is no better than “that lousy conjuror” (L1). Note that the preceding words, “I can’t get over”, have the extra meaning of “I can do no better than”.

Some of Dunn’s phrasings have a special sonorousness and I read some special significance there too:

L4-5: “That slipshod sorcerer,/ Butter-fingered wizard …”

Perhaps this ellipsis in L5 that precedes “Remember, when” is a way of conjuring up the fifth year of Robbie’s life.

L10: “When the white rabbit shat on his shaking hand,”

This is brilliant – the bathos of “shat” right in the middle of the line. And I can’t help but connect this tenth line to the traumatic tenth year of Robbie’s life. L11 begins “And made a break for it?” Where “break” has an obvious connotation.

L11-12: “Don’t shillyshally,/ Bunny-boy.”

Just as Dunn equates himself with the conjuror, here the rabbit is equated with Robbie. The magical switch from rabbit to Robbie occurs in “Bunny-boy”, which can be transformed to “Dunny-boy” (as in “Danny-boy” with a twist), and of course “Dunny-boy” is Dunn’s son, Robbie. The “B” in “Bunny-boy” also brings in the initial of the boy’s mother’s maiden name (Bathgate), while the next word in L12, “Run”, is a reduction of “Robbie Dunn”.

Note: ‘finale” in S3, L1 is a true rhyme with ‘shillyshally” in Dunn’s Scottish accent.

Previous and precious

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I enjoy reading ”Poem of the Week” at The Guardian, hosted by the excellent Carol Rumens. As an illustration of the feature’s high quality, today’s poem and appreciation are as good as any.

The comments section can be fun. Reading it today, I note that there was initially a typo in the poem, with “precious” in the phrase “as precious as gold” being rendered as “previous”. One of the people commenting insists that this was Edward Thomas’s choice and praises him for the innovativeness of the phrase: “An arresting idea… much more so than the stale/redundent (sic) adjective ‘precious’.”

Note to self: avoid cliché, or you’ll be ridiculed by people who can’t spell right one hundred years hence.

The Belle of Perth

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Many moons ago my sister Barbie asked me to write a piece for her. Last month, after I’d sent her a sonnet about a sad incident in my childhood, she wrote to me: “I challenge you to write a happy sonnet about your childhood!” Well, it’s not a sonnet, but it’s a sunny piece, and it’s one for her. It’s also a greeting on her birthday, which is today – so that’s three out of four boxes ticked. The happy sonnet about my childhood will have to come later.

The Belle of Perth

Best wishes on your Birthday,
Barbie (never Barbara Anne!),
who, once the belle of Perth, may
win the Golden Palm at Cannes
so there can be another
lass besides Jane Campion.
According to your brother,
you’ve been more than champion.

2012 round-up

At the end of my first calendar year of blogging here’s a brief round-up of significant things I did in it.

13th March
I wrote my first song in Danish. It’s called “En stalkers klage” (“Stalker’s Lament”). My intention is to get a couple of colleagues to sing/play it in 2013.

16th May
Ann Bilde 098
I celebrated my silver wedding anniversary with my wife, Ann Bilde.

6th, 8th 10th, 12th, 13th, 23rd August

I performed seven concerts at The Festival of Spirituality and Peace in St. John’s Church in Edinburgh, four of them ticketed.

18th-25th August

I attended a course in Edinburgh in conjunction with The International Book Festival.

16th-23rd September
I visited Galway (for the first time) and Dublin with a class.

6th-12th November
I visited Paris along with a large number of my colleagues.

My poetry publications
“Futures Unknown” in Snakeskin #185, March 2012
“A Giraffe Among Jackals” and “The Real Pity” in Angle Issue 1, 2012
“The Bad Dancer” in Snakeskin #187, July 2012
“On Papsie’s 89th Birthday” in Snakeskin #188, August 201
“The Whisperings Within” in Angle Issue 2, 2012
Spotlighted at The Hyper Texts

(Some of the archives at Snakeskin aren’t available at present.)

Breaking news
My poetry collection From Moonrise till Dawn – a cycle of 128 poems that I have been working on for the past 25 years – is going to be published as an e-book by NordOsten Books.

After the Flood

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Ribe_domkirke_apsis

One of the seven mosaics Carl-Henning Pedersen constructed in Ribe Cathedral in South-west Jutland in the years 1982-87 is entitled “Efter Syndfloden” (“After the Flood”). It depicts three images: a dove with an olive leaf in its beak (at the top); the “Ark”, a vessel whose bow and three masts are typical of a Viking ship (in the middle); and Noah, in a state of drunkenness, being covered by two of his sons with a blanket made of squares knitted in different colours, i.e. a traditional Danish one (at the bottom).

The mosaics display no other such overt instances of rifacimento. The artist’s use of it in “Efter Syndfloden” highlights the fact that South-west Jutland is very vulnerable to severe flooding.

Here’s a poem I’ve written, inspired by this mosaic:

After the Flood

Was Noah no a Viking, Lord?
ggHe tired of rape and loot,
acquired a special liking for
ggdistilled fermented fruit,
and set up his own winery.
ggHis kitchen, lounge and hall
were soon one big refinery,
ggbut, thinking it too small,

he filled his daddy’s granary
ggwith twelve enormous vats,
and, being a careful planner, he
ggthen started breeding cats.
Like any other skipper, he
gghad others tread the grape.
He made the surface slippery
ggto cut off their escape.

The trouble with this feline corps
ggwas cat piss in the brew,
so Noah made a beeline for
gga different kind of crew.
He gathered all the animals
ggto test their aptitude,
but multiplying mandibles
ggmeant insufficient food.

One morning, in the pouring rain,
ggthe Viking clan secured
the granary for storing grain.
ggThe wine, not yet matured,
was siphoned off by elephants,
ggfrom trunk to trunk to trunk,
and thrown out to the elements
gginstead of being drunk.

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