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BritishLiteraturePoetryPacket,Fall2018ByorbeforeWednesday10/10,youwillbechoosingapoemtoworkwithfordeclamationandyourcreativeproject.Youwillbeworkingwiththispoemcloselyforthenextfewweekssoitisimportantthatyouchooseapoemyoufindintriguing.

Inthispacket,youwillfind40poemstochoosefrom.Ifnoneoftheseappealtoyou,youmayresearchandfindapoemindependently.However,yourchosenpoemmustmeetthebelowcriteriaandyoumustmeetone-on-onewithyourmagistratogetherapproval.

Independentlychosenpoemsmustbe:● 20thcenturyorcontemporary(from1900tothepresent)● OriginallywritteninEnglishfromGreatBritain,theCaribbean,Africa,India,etc)● Between100-200wordsinlength● Fromanappropriate&reliablesource(suchasPoetryFoundation,Poets.org,ThePoetrySociety,

TheParisReview,otherreputableliterarymagazine,etc..)● Approvedbyyourmagistra

TableofContents

PatienceAgbabi(b.1965).....................................................2● “UnfinishedBusiness”

W.H.Auden(1907-1973).......................................................3● “MuseedesBeauxArts

EavanBoland(b.1944).......................................................3-8● “IrishPoetry”● “MakingUp”● “Degas’sLaundresses”● “ThattheScienceofCartographyisLimited”

KwameDawes(b.1962)..................................................8-11● “AWayofSeeing”● “LandHo”● “Natural”● “OdetotheClothesline”

CarolAnnDuffy(b.1955)..............................................12-13● “LastPost”● “Originally”

LornaGoodison(b.1947)• “GroundDoves”• “TheLaceSeller”• “SpeakoftheAdventofNewLight”

SeamusHeaney(1939-2013)......................................15-19● “Mid-TermBreak”● “TheSkunk”● “Digging”● “Postscript”● “PersonalHelicon”

KendelHippolyte(b.1952)..........................................19-21• “Hurricane”• “LikeWind”• “ThePiper’sSong”

TedHughes(1930-1998)..............................................21-22• “Pike”

IshionHutchinson(b.1983)…………………………..….23-24• “Phaeton”• “SecondReturn”

JackieKay(b.1961).................,,........................................24-25• “Castletown,IsleofMan”• “LateLove”

ThomasKinsella(b.1928)...................................................26• “MirrorinFebruary”

PhilipLarkin(1922-1985).............................................26-27● “MCMXIV”

RachelManley(b.1947)..................................................27-28● “Memory”

KeiMiller(b.1978)...........................................................28-31● “HymntotheBirds”● “”MyMother’sAtlasofDolls”● “PlaceName”

AndrewMotion[b.1952)…………………………………..31• “AnneFrankHuis”

AliceOswald(b.1966)............................................................32● “AShortStoryofFalling”

SudeepSen(b.1964)........................................................32-34● “Kargil”

DylanThomas(1914-1953)...........................................34-35● “DoNotGoGentleIntoThatGoodNight”

DerekWalcott(1930-2017).........................................35-36● “Islands”● “SeaCanes”

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PatienceAgbabi(b.1965)“UnfinishedBusiness”byPatienceAgbabiConveniently,cowardiceandforgivenesslookidenticalatacertaindistance.Timestealsyournerve.–JonathanNolan,MementoThatnight,itrainedsoharditwasbiblical.TheThamessunkthepromenade,spewingupsomuchlowlife.It’saweeksincetheybeatupmywife,putfiveholesinmydaughter.Iknowwhotheyare.Iknowwhy.I’mthreeshotsawayfromtheparkedcarinablacked-outcarpark.Mywifecries,Revengetoosweetattractsflies.Evenblushedwithbruisesshelooksgood.She’slyingonthebed,nexttome.Honey,I’mfine.TonightIcaughther,handsclasped,kneeling,stillfromacrimescene.Ididn’tbringmywifetoGravesendforthis.Whatstopsme,cowardice?Noneofthem,evenJoe,hastherighttolive.HowcanIforgive?HowcanIforgivenoneofthem?EvenJoehastherighttolive.Whatstopsme,cowardice?Ididn’tbringmywifetoGravesendforthisstillfromacrimescene.TonightIcaughther,handsclasped,kneelingonthebednexttome.Honey,I’mfine.Evenblushedwithbruisesshelooksgood.She’slying.Revengetoosweetattractsfliesinablacked-outcarpark.Mywifecries.Iknowwhy.I’mthreeshotsawayfromtheparkedcarputfiveholesinmydaughter.Iknowwhotheyare.It’saweeksincetheybeatupmywife,spewingupsomuchlowlifeitwasbiblical.TheThamessunkthepromenadethatnight,itrainedsohard.(Wordcount:242)

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W.H.Auden(1907-1973)“MuseedesBeauxArts”byW.H.AudenAboutsufferingtheywereneverwrong,TheoldMasters:howwelltheyunderstoodItshumanposition:howittakesplaceWhilesomeoneelseiseatingoropeningawindoworjustwalkingdullyalong;How,whentheagedarereverently,passionatelywaitingForthemiraculousbirth,therealwaysmustbeChildrenwhodidnotspeciallywantittohappen,skatingOnapondattheedgeofthewood:TheyneverforgotThateventhedreadfulmartyrdommustrunitscourseAnyhowinacorner,someuntidyspotWherethedogsgoonwiththeirdoggylifeandthetorturer'shorseScratchesitsinnocentbehindonatree.InBreughel'sIcarus,forinstance:howeverythingturnsawayQuiteleisurelyfromthedisaster;theploughmanmayHaveheardthesplash,theforsakencry,Butforhimitwasnotanimportantfailure;thesunshoneAsithadtoonthewhitelegsdisappearingintothegreenWater,andtheexpensivedelicateshipthatmusthaveseenSomethingamazing,aboyfallingoutofthesky,Hadsomewheretogettoandsailedcalmlyon.(Wordcount:184)EavanBoland(b.1944)“IrishPoetry”byEavanBolandForMichaelHartnettWealwaysknewtherewasnoOrpheusinIreland.Nomusicstoredatthedoorsofhell.Nogodtomakeit.Nowildbeaststoweepandliedowntoit.

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ButIrememberaneveningwhentheskywasdarkatfour.whenicehadseizedeverypartofthecityandwesattalking--theairmakingawreathforourcupsoftea.Andyoubegantospeakofourowngods.Ourheartbrokenpantheon:NoAtticlightforthemandnoHerodotusbutthinrainanddogfishandthestopgapofthesharpcliffstheyspenttheirwinterson.Andthepitch-blackAtlanticnight.Andhowthesoundofabird'swinginalostlanguagesounded.Youmadethenoiseforme.Madeitagain.untilIcouldseetheflightofit:suddenlythesilvery,litheriversofyoursouthwestlaydowninsilenceandthesavageacresnoonecouldpredictwereallatease,soothedandquietandlisteningtoyou,asIwas.Asiftomusic,asiftopeace.(WordCount:184)“MakingUp”byEavanBolandMynakedface;Iwaketoit.Howit’sdulsedandshrouded!It’sacloud,adullpre-dawn.ButI’llsoonseetothatIpushtheblusherup,IraddleandIprinkpinkingbone

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tillmyeyesarearouge-washedflushonwater.nowthebasepalesandwastes.Lightthinsfromeartochin,whiteningintheoceanshinemirrorsetofmyeyesthatIfledgeInolddarks.Igreaseandfullmymouth.Itwon’tstayshut:Ilookintheglass.Myfaceismade,itsays:takenothing,nothingatitsfacevalue:legendaryseas,nakedness,thatupandstucklassitudeofthighandbuttockthattheyprayedto--it’satrick.mythsaremadebymen.Thetruthofthiswave-raiding

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sea-heavingmade-uptaleofafacefromthesourceofthemorningismyown:Minearetherougepots,thehotpinks,thefledgedandedgymixoflightandwateroutofwhichIdawn.(WordCount:167)“Degas’sLaundresses”byEavanBolandYourise,youdawnroll-sleevedAphrodites,outofacamisoleofbrine,alinenpitofstitches,silkingthefittedsheetsawayfromyoulikewaves.Youseamdreamsinthefoldsofwashfromwhichfreshesthewhiffandreachoffieldswhereitbleachedandstiffened.Yourchat’ssabbatical:brides,weddingoutfits,apleasureofleisuredwomenaresweatedintothefolds,Theneatheapsoflinen.Nowthedragoftheclasp.Yourwristsbasketyourwaist.Youroundtothesquareweight.

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Wait.Therebehindyou.Aman.Therebehindyou.Whateveryoudodon’tturn.Whyishewatchingyou?Whateveryoudodon’tturn.Whateveryoudodon’tturn.Seehetakeshiseasestakinghiseaselso,clowlysharpeningcharcoal,closinghiseyesjustso,slowlysmilingasifsoslowlyheisunbandaginghismind.Surelyagoodlaundresswouldunderstanditstwists,itswhiteturnsitsblinddesigns--it’syourwindingsheet.(Wordcount:161)“ThattheScienceofCartographyisLimited”byEavanBoland—andnotsimplybythefactthatthisshadingofforestcannotshowthefragranceofbalsam,thegloomofcypressesiswhatIwishtoprove.WhenyouandIwerefirstinlovewedrovetothebordersofConnachtandenteredawoodthere.Lookdownyousaid:thiswasonceafamineroad.Ilookeddownattheivyandthescutchgrassrough-caststonehaddisappearedintoasyoutoldmeinthesecondwinteroftheirordeal,in

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1847,whenthecrophadfailedtwice,ReliefCommitteesgavethestarvingIrishsuchroadsasthistobuild.Wheretheydied,theretheroadendedandendsstillandwhenItakedownthemapofthisisland,itisneversoIcansayhereisthemasterful,theaptrenderingofthesphericalasflat,noraningeniousdesignwhichpersuadesacurveintoaplanebuttotellmyselfagainthatthelinewhichsayswoodlandandcrieshungerandgivesoutamongsweetpineandcypress,andfindsnohorizonwillnotbethere.(Wordcount:193)KwameDawes(b.1962)“AWayofSeeing”byKwameDawesItallcomesfromthisdarkdirt,memoryascasualasalaborer.Remembrancesofancestorskeptintrinkets,tinyremainsthatwouldmaddenanthropologistswiththeirnamelessness.Norecords,justsmellsofstoriespassingthroughmosttenuouslinks,trustinginthebirthingofseedfromseed;thiscalabashbowlofGreat-grand

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Martha,bornaslave’schild;thisbundleofsocks,unusedthickwoolenthingsforthesnow—hedied,UncleFelix,beforetheshippushedofftheKingstonwharf,nosingforwinter,forLondon.Heneverusedthesocks,justhadthemburiedwithhim.So,sometimesforgettingthepanoramathesepoemsfocuslikeatunnel,toawayofseeingtimepast,awayofseeingthedead.(Wordcount:120)“LandHo”byKwameDawesIcannotspeakthelanguagesspokeninthatvessel,cannotreadthebeadspromisingsalvation.Iknowthisonly,thatwhenthegreenoflandappearedlikelightafterthehorrorofthiscrossing,westraightenedourbacksandfacedthesimplicityofnewdayswithflame.IknowIhavethebloodofsurvivorscoursingthroughmyveins;Iknowthelamentofourlossmustwarmusagainandagaindowninthebellyofthewhale,

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hereinthebellyofthewhalewherewearestillsearchingforhomes.(Wordcount:97)“OdetotheClothesline”byKwameDawesAfterAlfredStieglitzNotsomuchthemissingofthingsbutthenostalgiaofcolors,theirmusic,theordinaryrevelationofafamily’slifecaughtintheflopanddance,ajig,ifyouwill,oftheirlayers,outerandinnerskins,thesecretthingssoclosetothebody,thetaste,thesaltandsweetofblood,andshit,andpiss,andthen,rinsedandscrubbed,leavingbeneaththeastringentscentofsoapamuskymarkerofselfforstraystosmellorimagineastheywalkpasttheparadeofthelivingontautlines,proppedbypoleswithnailsforahook,abovethestartlinggreenofgrassandhedge,thebarefacedconcretesteps,thesky,inscrutableasawall;thisiswhatonecarriesasakindofsweetness — thelaborofbrownhands,elbow-deepinsuds,theritualsofcleansing,thehumilityofadarning

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orafrayedcrotch,thedignityofcleanliness,thedemocracyoftruth,thewaywelivedourlivesintheopen.(WordCount:170)“Natural”byKwameDawesForBobMarleyInthesilence,thesilenceofanewvoidofmorning,Itastethebitterweedofloss,likemauby,likeaforerunnertomyownloss—staringattheopenautopsiedcorpseofthebodythathousedmyfather,lamentingonlythatwhichmayhavebeen,lamentingthatsometimeswediebeforepoeticjusticecanmeteitsmagic:Ohthethingsthatcouldhavebeen!Thedeadyoungareimpossibleequations.Morning,morning.Iwalkalongtheleaf-strewnavenuesofthecampus,asun-speckedday;theblessedlightonmyupturnedfacemakingmethinkoftheconfessionyoumadeatCaneRiverwhereontherocksyoulaidyourhead,thereindesolateplacestomakeyourbed,tomakemusic;Ifindthestonesheretaketothealchemyofpoetrysowell.Iwalklikeapoetinsearchofremembrances.Theslipofmymemorygathersimagesandtossesthemamongtheturningleavestoletfallsomethinglikerainonablazinghotday,rainwatertouchingsoftasphaltandmakingsteamassweetandreassuringasincenseinthesanctuary.(Wordcount:187)

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CarolAnnDuffy(b.1955)“LastPost”byCarolAnnDuffyInallmydreams,beforemyhelplesssight,Heplungesatme,guttering,choking,drowning,Ifpoetrycouldtellitbackwards,true,beginthatmomentshrapnelscythedyoutothestinkingmud…butyougetup,amazed,watchbledbadbloodrunupwardsfromtheslimeintoitswounds;seelinesandlinesofBritishboysrewindbacktotheirtrenches,kissthephotographsfromhome--mothers,sweethearts,sisters,youngerbrothersnotenteringthestorynowtodieanddieanddie.Dulce—No—Decorum—No—Propatriamori.Youwalkaway.Youwalkaway;dropyourgun(fixedbayonet)likeallyourmatesdotoo--Harry,Tommy,Wilfred,Edward,Bert--andlightacigarette.there’scoffeeinthesquare,warmFrenchbread,andallthosethousandsdeadareshakingdriedmudfromtheirhairandqueuingupforhome.Freshlyalive,aladplaysTipperarytothecrowd,releasedfromHistory;theglistening,healthyhorsesfitforheroes,kings.youleanagainstawall,yourseveralmillionlivesstillpossibleandcrammedwithlove,work,children,talent,Englishbeer,goodfood.youseethepoettuckawayhispocket-bookandsmile.ifpoetrycouldtrulytellitbackwards,thenitwould.(Wordcount:202)

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“Originally”byCarolAnnDuffyWecamefromourowncountryinaredroomwhichfellthroughthefields,ourmothersingingourfather’snametotheturnofthewheels.Mybrotherscried,oneofthembawling,Home,Home,asthemilesrushedbacktothecity,thestreet,thehouse,thevacantroomswherewedidn’tliveanymore.Istaredattheeyesofablindtoy,holdingitspaw.Allchildhoodisanemigration.Someareslow,leavingyoustanding,resigned,upanavenuewherenooneyouknowstays.Othersaresudden.Youraccentwrong.Corners,whichseemfamiliar,leadingtounimaginedpebble-dashedestates,bigboyseatingwormsandshoutingwordsyoudon’tunderstand.Myparents’anxietystirredlikealoosetoothinmyhead.Iwantourowncountry,Isaid.Butthenyouforget,ordon’trecall,orchange,and,seeingyourbrotherswallowaslug,feelonlyaskelfofshame.Iremembermytonguesheddingitsskinlikeasnake,myvoiceintheclassroomsoundingjustliketherest.DoIonlythinkIlostariver,culture,speech,senseoffirstspaceandtherightplace?Now,Wheredoyoucomefrom?strangersask.Originally?AndIhesitate.(Wordcount:205))LornaGoodison(b.1947)“GroundDoves”byLornaGoodisonSmallquerulousbirdsfeatherslikeswatchesofearthgracedwithwings,optforwalking.

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Thefemaleonessportsurprisingunderslipstrimmedwithstunningpassementerie.Braidedarabesquesscallopingroundtheirhemsbutthatisrarelyshown,exceptforwhentheybendtoscrambleforstalebreadcrumbstheyhavecometoexpectasdue.Grounddovesmakeyouuneasybecausetherewasatimewhenyoutoowalkedandsavedyourwingsandwouldnotreachhighforthesweetriskinsidethelipsofhibiscusbutsavedyourwings,andscrambledforusedbreadandleftoverthings….(Wordcount:98)“TheLaceSeller”byLornaGoodisonThereisawomansellingcardsoflaceandloopsofribbonInsidetheelbowofadowntownsquare.Hermotherbeforehersoldamericanapples,crispdeepwhiteflesh,packedtightwithinglowingthinredwineskins.Thiswoman’sconcernsfilterupthroughmydreamswhenIliebathedandfoldedincleansheets,forsheliesononethinhotsheets,bedpushedupagainstthedoorforfearof“kick-down”andalwaysshesleepslightly.

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Thiswomanhasason(sodoI)exceptitwasthepolicewhokickedherdoordownlettingthethicknightin,seizinghim.LacemoneycannotstretchtopayLawyer.WhenIthinkofherson,Lordpleasecovertheheadofmyown.(Wordcount:123)“SpeakoftheAdventofNewLight”byLornaGoodisonOnanightofnostarsitwillsparkfromthefrictionofahomelesswoman’sshoeslippingalongthepavementasshestoopstostirhereveningmealoftrickledowninapaintpanoverafireofdamprubbish.Simultaneouslyitwillglowphosphorescentinthecuppedpalmsofanightfishermanashebendstotestthewatersoffthebaynearsurrender,thewonderofthelivingwaterbearingfootprintsandcurrentsoffreshbeginnings.Andsmallchildrenwillcomeinfromplaypullinglikekitesbehindthemluminousstreamersoflight,infusedwithsuchcolorsasnevertheprismoftheeyehasreflected.Newlightsucceedingdarkiscertain,isexpected.(Wordcount:116)SeamusHeaney(1939-2013)

“Mid-TermBreak”bySeamusHeaneyIsatallmorninginthecollegesickbayCountingbellsknellingclassestoaclose.Attwoo'clockourneighboursdrovemehome.

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IntheporchImetmyfathercrying—Hehadalwaystakenfuneralsinhisstride—AndBigJimEvanssayingitwasahardblow.ThebabycooedandlaughedandrockedthepramWhenIcamein,andIwasembarrassedByoldmenstandinguptoshakemyhandAndtellmetheywere'sorryformytrouble'.WhispersinformedstrangersIwastheeldest,Awayatschool,asmymotherheldmyhandInhersandcoughedoutangrytearlesssighs.Atteno'clocktheambulancearrivedWiththecorpse,stanchedandbandagedbythenurses.NextmorningIwentupintotheroom.SnowdropsAndcandlessoothedthebedside;IsawhimForthefirsttimeinsixweeks.Palernow,Wearingapoppybruiseonhislefttemple,Helayinthefour-footboxasinhiscot.Nogaudyscars,thebumperknockedhimclear.Afour-footbox,afootforeveryyear.(Wordcount:184)

“TheSkunk”bySeamusHeaneyUp,black,stripedanddamaskedlikethechasubleAtafuneralmass,theskunk’stailParadedtheskunk.NightafternightIexpectedherlikeavisitor.Therefrigeratorwhinniedintosilence.Mydesklightsoftenedbeyondtheverandah.Smallorangesloomedintheorangetree.Ibegantobetenseasavoyeur.AfterelevenyearsIwascomposingLove-lettersagain,broachingtheword‘wife’

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Likeastoredcask,asifitsslendervowelHadmutatedintothenightearthandairOfCalifornia.Thebeautiful,uselessTangofeucalyptusspeltyourabsense.TheaftermathofamouthfulofwineWaslikeinhalingyouoffacoldpillow.Andthereshewas,theintentandglamorous,Ordinary,mysteriousskunk,Mythologized,demythologized,Snuffingtheboardsfivefeetbeyondme.Itallcamebacktomelastnight,stirredBythesootfallofyourthingsatbedtime,Yourhead-down,tail-uphuntinabottomdrawerFortheblackplunge-linenightdress.(Wordcount:159)“Digging”bySeamusHeaney

BetweenmyfingerandmythumbThesquatpenrests;snugasagun.Undermywindow,acleanraspingsoundWhenthespadesinksintogravellyground:Myfather,digging.IlookdownTillhisstrainingrumpamongtheflowerbedsBendslow,comesuptwentyyearsawayStoopinginrhythmthroughpotatodrillsWherehewasdigging.Thecoarsebootnestledonthelug,theshaftAgainsttheinsidekneewasleveredfirmly.Herootedouttalltops,buriedthebrightedgedeepToscatternewpotatoesthatwepicked,Lovingtheircoolhardnessinourhands.ByGod,theoldmancouldhandleaspade.Justlikehisoldman.

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MygrandfathercutmoreturfinadayThananyothermanonToner’sbog.OnceIcarriedhimmilkinabottleCorkedsloppilywithpaper.HestraightenedupTodrinkit,thenfelltorightawayNickingandslicingneatly,heavingsodsOverhisshoulder,goingdownanddownForthegoodturf.Digging.Thecoldsmellofpotatomould,thesquelchandslapOfsoggypeat,thecurtcutsofanedgeThroughlivingrootsawakeninmyhead.ButI’venospadetofollowmenlikethem.BetweenmyfingerandmythumbThesquatpenrests.I’lldigwithit.(Wordcount:217)“Postscript”bySeamusHeaneyAndsometimemakethetimetodriveoutwestIntoCountyClare,alongtheFlaggyShore,InSeptemberorOctober,whenthewindAndthelightareworkingoffeachotherSothattheoceanononesideiswildWithfoamandglitter,andinlandamongstonesThesurfaceofaslate-greylakeislitBytheearthedlighteningofflockofswans,Theirfeathersroughedandruffling,whiteonwhite,Theirfully-grownheadstrong-lookingheadsTuckedorcrestingorbusyunderwater.Uselesstothinkyou'llparkorcaptureitMorethoroughly.Youareneitherherenorthere,AhurrythroughwhichknownandstrangethingspassAsbigsoftbuffetingscomeatthecarsidewaysAndcatchtheheartoffguardandblowitopen.(Wordcount:132)

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“PersonalHelicon”bySeamusHeaneyforMichaelLongleyAsachild,theycouldnotkeepmefromwellsAndoldpumpswithbucketsandwindlasses.Ilovedthedarkdrop,thetrappedsky,thesmellsOfwaterweed,fungusanddankmoss.One,inabrickyard,witharottedboardtop.IsavouredtherichcrashwhenabucketPlummeteddownattheendofarope.Sodeepyousawnoreflectioninit.AshallowoneunderadrystoneditchFructifiedlikeanyaquarium.WhenyoudraggedoutlongrootsfromthesoftmulchAwhitefacehoveredoverthebottom.Othershadechoes,gavebackyourowncallWithacleannewmusicinit.AndoneWasscaresome,forthere,outoffernsandtallFoxgloves,aratslappedacrossmyreflection.Now,topryintoroots,tofingerslime,Tostare,big-eyedNarcissus,intosomespringIsbeneathalladultdignity.IrhymeToseemyself,tosetthedarknessechoing.(Wordcount:161)KendelHippolyte(b.1952)“Hurricane”byKendelHippolyteFanatic,reelinginadervishdance,grapplingattrees,mountains,homes,theotherrootedthings,flailingawaysurfaces,tryingtoclutchbeginnings,onlydesperateforstillness,foragodlikeglance

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thatwillabsolvethisrageintoalargerwhole,reveal—ifevenafterward—thatthereissomemeaningtoallthesewallsbroken,fencesuprooted,thepeopleleaningoneachother,somenakedalmost,fromthesuddencold,thehurricanewieldsitsviolencebyaccident,strainingtoreachanabsenceatthecentre,chasingavisionhiddeninthechaos,andthatrestlesssearchingalwaysbringsahavoctoustillagod’seye,seeingourhardfencesshatter,acknowledgesthisdrivenhereticasaint.(Wordcount:117)“LikeWind”byKendelHippolyteHardesttounderstandisthatheretooareseasons:timesoftheharrowingofspirit,thedrydaysofnohope,theLententimeswheneverythingisfallow,waitingforthegraceofrain.Tounderstandistoknowthatdyingisaseasonalso.Andknowingthisyourestintheintegrityoftheunhandledworld,themanifestofinexhaustibilityofthings,howtreeskeepdyingintofruit,howfruitkeepdyingintotreesagainwithoutcomplaint,howthereis,always,earth.Butthatunderstandingisaseasonalso,isagrace.Itcomeslikewind,likewindyoucannotgraspit.Andifinitsvisitation,forthelivesdurationofamoment,youseethateverything—grass,lilies,theleasthaironyourhead—ismovedbythesamebreath,givethanks.(Wordcount:138)“ThePiper’sSong”byKendellHippolyeThepiperwasnearby;everyoneseemedsuddenlyrestless,listening;therewassomethingsubtlydisturbing

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buthardtoplace.Tensionlikewhenaracewason.Allseemedthesame,justthatnoonelookedyouintheface.Notthechildrensqueakingofftoschool.Notthescurryingclerksintherushhour.Notthebeady-eyedsalesmen.Noone.Listening.Theyheardit.RichYankee-Doodletrillcallingthem.Theycouldnotbestill,scuttlingafterthenotes.Achaseofcreepingbodies,asneakingswarmswellingintoaracethatnooneknewthestartof,endof,orhowtostoprunningnottofall,runningtillsomeone,goingdownhill,asked:“Whatisthisplace?Who’stheguywiththepipe?What’shedoing?Heplayingforfree?Who’splaying?”Theystopped.Deadquietforamoment.Thenthemelody,moreslowly,funeralpace,wailedlongandshrill.(Wordcount:149)TedHughes(1930-1998)“Pike”--mustbeexcerpted!byTedHughesPike,threeincheslong,perfectPikeinallparts,greentigeringthegold.Killersfromtheegg:themalevolentagedgrin.Theydanceonthesurfaceamongtheflies.Ormove,stunnedbytheirowngrandeur,Overabedofemerald,silhouetteOfsubmarinedelicacyandhorror.Ahundredfeetlongintheirworld.Inponds,undertheheat-strucklilypads-Gloomoftheirstillness:Loggedonlastyear’sblackleaves,watchingupwards.Orhunginanambercavernofweeds

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Thejaws’hookedclampandfangsNottobechangedatthisdate:Alifesubduedtoitsinstrument;Thegillskneadingquietly,andthepectorals.Threewekeptbehindglass,Jungledinweed:threeinches,four,Andfourandahalf:fedfrytothem-Suddenlythereweretwo.FinallyoneWithasagbellyandthegrinitwasbornwith.Andindeedtheysparenobody.Two,sixpoundseach,overtwofeetlongHighanddryanddeadinthewillow-herb-Onejammedpastitsgillsdowntheother’sgullet:Theoutsideeyestared:asavicelocks-ThesameironinthiseyeThoughitsfilmshrankindeath.ApondIfished,fiftyyardsacross,WhoseliliesandmusculartenchHadoutlastedeveryvisiblestoneOfthemonasterythatplantedthem-Stilledlegendarydepth:ItwasasdeepasEngland.ItheldPiketooimmensetostir,soimmenseandoldThatpastnightfallIdarednotcastButsilentlycastandfishedWiththehairfrozenonmyheadForwhatmightmove,forwhateyemightmove.Thestillsplashesonthedarkpond,OwlshushingthefloatingwoodsFrailonmyearagainstthedreamDarknessbeneathnight’sdarknesshadfreed,Thatroseslowlytowardme,watching.(Wordcount:296)

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IshionHutchinson(b.1983)“Phaeton”byIshionHutchinsonGround-levelled,behindalinedrawn,hetookaimatacircleofpreciousmarbles,precise,interruptingthepassingants,theshotwasfired,andiftheyhadknown,theotherboys,thatbeforespeaking,thepoetofoldhadalsobentandstrokedtheearth,dividinghimselffromhispeople—iftheyhadknownanypoet—theywouldhavestoppedhimbeforethesunburstfromhisfingers,scatteringglassbeads.Theyfoundhimwithanemptythirdeyethebulletdrilledintohisforehead,adeafhole,knowingonlyitsowndarknessthereintheparched-grassfield;flieswhirred,unwavering,asunchariot'saxle-songs,heatroseamirrorbeforehisskull,andhismouthopened,amazedtothismask,itsbleached-stillness,likeastonelitfromtheinside,fadedasamoonmarkedinthedust—atthisface,hismouthopened,amazed,stayedopen.(Wordcount:144)“SecondReturn”byIshionHutchinsonLetthecerementoflight,thesilentsnowcoveringthebellsfrozeninthetowers,speakacountryoftiredbays,whererainhesitatestobreaktheseamlessyellowoftoil;letthiscoffin-shapedlightbalanceonthenegativecompass,theshockandstun,theheart'ssuddenbraceforajealousthunder,childhood's

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handsclappingintheassemblyofabsence,rejoicingintheclarityofhungerandfiredclay.Letthehandsbewingstoliftoutofwaterarippledname—jangleofbells—leftuntended,likeawheatfield,swathoflight,violetstains,thenightsomeonewipedtheirhandson.Letthestraygoatberecalled,andthemangotreeviolatedforitsbastardfruit,recallthearmyofcaneflagsthatmarchedthroughdreams,salutedbysilver-edgecutlassesatmorning.Oenvyofsea,bindingandseparatingislands,huskenvyateveryaccents'core,theirfiberglintafterrumflasksbreaktheirsealsandriversletdowntheirhairbetweenshallowgullies.Letnottheblankofwinterforgetstheburiedglass;letitpullbloodoutofanypilgrimwhogoesthereandmarksawaybackbythebody'sscentandlight,distendedbyameltingbrook.(Wordcount:201)JackieKay(b.1961)“Castletown,IsleofMan”byJackieKayHowstrangethewayoldloversmoveintothepresent,tense,andcatchyouoffguard;youtellmewhenyouwereherelastyou’dtakenthesteamtraintoaplacewhosenameyou’veforgotten,andfoundatapasbar.Goingtothatislandislikegoingbacktothepast.OncewewouldhavedrunkaglassofredtogetherintheGarrison,orwavedinunisonatthemotherandchildinthatbackgardenwavingatthissteamtrain.

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Iseewhatyoumean,Ithinktomyself,Iseewhatyoumean,wavingonmyowntothetimebeforeIwasborn.Thesedayswetraveltothesameplacesalone:firstyou,thenme,tothissmall,half-wayisland.Ipickupyourscentroundthenarrowcobbledstreets,themedievalcastlegrounds,throughtheMarketSquare:Istareatthedreamyboatscomingintotheharbour,thenconjureyou,myex-lover,intheOldHouseofKeys:walkingalongthelonganddimly-litcorridor,acrossthestonefloor–candleinhand–tofriendshipcarryingthelowflameofthepast,stillflickering,justthesame,intothepresent,totheplacethathasnosatisfactoryname.(Wordcount:204)“LateReply”byJackieKayHowtheystrutabout,peopleinlove,howtalltheygrow,pleasedwiththemselves,theirhair,glossy,theirskinshining.Theydon'trememberwhotheyhavebeen.Howfilmictheyarejustforthistime.Howimportantthey'vebecome–secret,abovetheorderofthings,thedrearymundane.Everychurchbellringing,afreshsign.Howdullthelotthatarenotinlove.Theirclothesshabby,theirskinlustreless;howcluelesstheyare,hairamess;howtheytrudgeupanddownstreetsintherain,rememberingonekissinadarkalley,atouchinachanging-room,iflucky,alovelywaitforthephonetoring,maybe,baby.Thepastwithitsrushofvelvet,itssecrethushalreadymilesaway,dimmingnow,inthelateday.(Wordcount:130)

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ThomasKinsella(b.1928)“MirrorinFebruary”byThomasKinsellaThedaydawns,withscentofmustandrain,Ofopenedsoil,darktrees,drybedroomair.Underthefadinglamp,halfdressed-mybrainIdlingonsomecompulsivefantasy-Itowelmyshavenjawandstop,andstare,Rivetedbyadarkexhaustedeye,Adrydownturningmouth.Itseemsagainthatitistimetolearn,Inthisuntiring,crumblingplaceofgrowthTowhich,forthetimebeing,Ireturn.NowplainlyinthemirrorofmysoulIreadthatIhavelookedmylastonyouthAndlittlemore;fortheyarenotmadewholeThatreachtheageofChrist.Belowmywindowthewakeningtrees,Hackedcleanforbetterbearing,standdefacedSufferingtheirbrutenecessities;Andhowshouldthefleshnotquail,thatspanforspanIsmutilatedmore?InslowdistasteIfoldmytowelwithwhatgraceIcan,Notyoung,andnotrenewable,butman.(Wordcount:156)PhilipLarkin(1922-1985)“MCMXIV”byPhilipLarkinThoselongunevenlinesStandingaspatientlyAsiftheywerestretchedoutsideTheOvalorVillaPark,Thecrownsofhats,thesun

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OnmoustachedarchaicfacesGrinningasifitwereallAnAugustBankHolidaylark;Andtheshutshops,thebleachedEstablishednamesonthesunblinds,Thefarthingsandsovereigns,Anddark-clothedchildrenatplayCalledafterkingsandqueens,ThetinadvertisementsForcocoaandtwist,andthepubsWideopenallday;Andthecountrysidenotcaring:Theplace-namesallhazedoverWithfloweringgrasses,andfieldsShadowingDomesdaylinesUnderwheat’srestlesssilence;Thedifferently-dressedservantsWithtinyroomsinhugehouses,Thedustbehindlimousines;Neversuchinnocence,Neverbeforeorsince,AschangeditselftopastWithoutaword–themenLeavingthegardenstidy,Thethousandsofmarriages,Lastingalittlewhilelonger:Neversuchinnocenceagain.(Wordcount:148)RachelManley(b.1947)“Memory”byRachelManleyTheafternoonbelongstomygrandfather.Youcannottakeitawaythoughtheminddarkensandthechildren’slaughter

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hasstrayedlikemessages.Iamneartheverandah,lostinmynetsofthoughtwhichIbroughtfromagesix,averylongway.Youcannotsentencememorytodeath,itreturnsthroughtheyearslulledintohymns.IficlosemyeyesTimewillforgetme;IhearanoldladyreadingfromRilke,shefindsthebestlineandexplainsthatpoetsdon’thavetorhymeanymore.Ificlosemyeyesmyhandswillforgetme,I’mupintheplumtreeneartothesky;ifIleave,I’llnevercomeback.Hereinthisdistancebirdsfly,theyfly,buttheydonotsing.Thenightwaitsinthehousesafeandpeacefulascandlesorcartspulledbytrustymiles;mygrandfatherwaitsinthehouse.Youknow,themoonisjustaviolinthatlongstoberepaired.(Wordcount:165)KeiMiller(b.1978)“HymntotheBirds”byKeiMiller No,nottothebirdswhoknowbetterthanushowtohymntheirownsongs rathertowordsunderwhichtheylockandfindtheirbest

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arrangements:toparliamentsofowls:flingsofdunlins: lamentationsofswans:tremblingsoffinches:charmsofhummingbirds:hillsofruffs: rushesofpochards:chatteringsofchoughs:towalkofsnipes:commotionsofcoots: gulpsofswallows:quarrelsofsparrows:topeacocksthatstrutinostentations;larksthatfly inexaltations:thrushesthatcrowdthered-leafgroundasmutations:alsoto thepityingofturtledoves:theunkindnessofravens:thedescentsofwoodpeckes;themurders ofcrows;ahymnthennottobirdsbuttowordswhichthemselvesfeel likefeatherandwingandlight,asifwereonthedelicacyof suchsweetsyllabesthatflockstheflight.(Wordcount:135)“MyMother’sAtlasofDolls”byKeiMillerUnabletotravel,mymothermakesusPromisetoalwaysbringbackdollsAsifglasseyescouldbearsufficientWitnesstowhereshehasnotbeen,

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Thewhatoftheworldshehasnotseen.Shegathersthem-clothandporcelainPageant-onherwhatnot,makesthemStandsregalonwhitedoilies,wavingLikequeensfromtheirhighbalconies.MissColumbia,MissHolland,MissPeruArejustafewwhoobserve,unblinking,Thenewworldaboutthem.IthinkOfhowwearrangethedeadlikedolls,Settheirarmsinprecisepositions,Howwetouchtheirunseeingeyes;AndhowtheyliesosweetlystillWithintheirperfectboxes.ItmayhavebeenthedollsthattaughtMymotherhowtodie,howtotravelOnceagain,howtowavegood-bye(WordCount:138words)“PlaceName”byKeiMillerMe-No-Sen-You-N-Come.Inplainenglish:donotenter withoutinvitation.Forconsidertheonce-upon-a-time adventuresofrudepickneyansweringtoname Goldilocks-nuff-gyal,self-invitedintohouseofbears, assumedatoncehercolonialrighttoporridge,tobeds andtochairs.Thebaff-handchildwentinjustso,not evenatokenofferingofhoney,andjustlikethat proceededtobruckupthings.Ifonlyshehadpennied thesecretnamesofplaces.Me-No-Sen-you-no-come: withoutinvitation,you’renotwelcome.Orelse,come inasyouplease-justknowthatthisground,these bushes,thesethreesobserveyouwithsuspicionmany centuriesdeep.

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(Wordcount:102)AndrewMotion(b.1952)“AnneFrankHuis”byAndrewMotionEvennow,aftertwiceherlifetimeofgriefandangerintheveryplace,whoevercomestoclimbthesenarrowstairs,discovershowthebookcaseslidesaside,thenwalksthroughshadowintosunlitroom,canneverhelpbutbreakhersecrecyagain.Justlisteningisakindofguilt:theWesterkirkrepeatsitselfoutside,asifalltimeworkedroundtowardsherfear,andmadeeachstrokediedownonguardedstreets.Imagineit—fouryearsofwhispering,andloneliness,andplotting,daybyday,theAlliedlineinEuropewithayellowchalk.Whathopeshehadforordinaryloveandinterestsurvivesherhere,displayedabovethebedaspicturesofherfamily;someactors;fashionschosenbyPrincessElizabeth.Andthosewhostooptoseethemfindnotonlypatiencemissingitsreward,butoneenduringwishforchanceslikemyown:toleaveassimplyasIdo,andwalkateaseupdustytree-linedavenues,orwatchasilentbargecomeclearofbridgessettlingtheirreflectionsinthebluecanal.(Wordcount:176)

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AliceOswald(b.1966)“AShortStoryofFalling”byAliceOswaldItisthestoryofthefallingraintoturnintoaleafandfallagainitisthesecretofasummershowertostealthelightandhideitinaflowerandeveryfloweratinytributarythatfromthegroundflowsgreenandmomentaryisoneofwater'swishesandthistalehangsinaseed-headsmallerthanmythumbnailifonlyIapasserbycouldpassasclearaswaterthroughaplumeofgrasstofindthesunlighthiddenatthetipturningtoseedakindofliftingraindripthenImightknowlikewaterhowtobalancetheweightofhopeagainstthelightofpatiencewaterwhichissorawsoearthy-strongandlurksincast-irontanksandleaksalongdrawnundergravitytowardsmytonguetocoolandfillthepipe-workofthissongwhichisthestoryofthefallingrainthatrisestothelightandfallsagain (Wordcount:161)SudeepSen(b.1964)“Kargil”bySudeepSenTenyearson,Icamesearchingfor

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warsignsofthepastexpectingremnants—magazinedebris,unexplodedshells,shrapnelthatmarkbombwounds.Icamelookingforghosts—peoplepast,skeletonscharred,abandonedbrick-wood-cementthatoncehousedthem.Icouldonlyfindwhispers—whispersamongtheclamourofasmalltownoutpostinfullthrottle—everydaychoressketchingoutwardsignsofnormalityandlife.InthatbustleIspotwar-linesofadecadeago,thoughthestorylinesarekeptburied,wrappedinoldnewsprint.Thereisorderamiduneasiness—themuezzin’scry,themonk’schant—baritonesmergingintheirseparateness.Atthebusstationblackcoughsofexhaustsmoke-screenseverything.Theroadsmeetandafterthecrossroadritualdiverge,skatingalongtheundottedlinesofcontrol.Aporousgarlandwithcrackedbeads

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adornsTigerHill.Beyondthemountainsaredarkmemories,andbeyondthemnooneknows,andbeyondthemnoonewantstoknow.Eventheflightofbirdsthatwingovertheircrestsdon’tknowwhichfeatherstodown.Chameleon-liketheyfly,tracingperfectparabolas.Ilookupandcalculatetheirexactarcandfindinstead,aflawedtheorem.(Wordcount:197)DylanThomas(1914-1953)“DoNotGoGentleIntoThatGoodNight”byDylanThomasDonotgogentleintothatgoodnight,Oldageshouldburnandraveatcloseofday;Rage,rageagainstthedyingofthelight.Thoughwisemenattheirendknowdarkisright,BecausetheirwordshadforkednolightningtheyDonotgogentleintothatgoodnight.Goodmen,thelastwaveby,cryinghowbrightTheirfraildeedsmighthavedancedinagreenbay,Rage,rageagainstthedyingofthelight.Wildmenwhocaughtandsangthesuninflight,Andlearn,toolate,theygrieveditonitsway,Donotgogentleintothatgoodnight.

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Gravemen,neardeath,whoseewithblindingsightBlindeyescouldblazelikemeteorsandbegay,Rage,rageagainstthedyingofthelight.Andyou,myfather,thereonthesadheight,Curse,bless,menowwithyourfiercetears,Ipray.Donotgogentleintothatgoodnight.Rage,rageagainstthedyingofthelight.(Wordcount:168)DerekWalcott(1930-2017)“Islands”byDerekWalcott[ForMargaret]MerelytonamethemistheproseOfdiarists,tomakeyouanameForreaderswholiketravellerspraiseTheirbedsandbeachesasthesame;ButislandscanonlyexistIfwehavelovedinthem.Iseek,Asclimateseeksitsstyle,towriteVersecrispassand,clearassunlight,Coldasthecurledwave,ordinaryAsatumblerofislandwater;Yet,likeadiarist,thereafterIsavourtheirsalt-hauntedrooms(YourbodystirringthecreasedseaOfcrumpledsheets),whosemirrorsloseOurhuddled,sleepingimages,LikewordswhichlovehadhopedtouseErasedwiththesurf’spages.So,likeadiaristinsand,ImarkthepeacewithwhichyougracedParticularislands,descendingAnarrowstartolightthelampsAgainstthenightsurf’snoises,shieldingAleapingmantlewithonehand,Orsimplyscalingfishforsupper,

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Onions,jack-fish,bread,red-snapper;Andoneachkisstheharshsea-taste,AndhowbymoonlightyouweremadeTostudymostthesurf’sunyieldingPatiencethoughitseemedawaste.(Wordcount:179)“SeaCanes”byDerekWalcottHalfmyfriendsaredead.Iwillmakeyounewones,saidearth.No,givemethemback,astheywere,instead,withfaultsandall,Icried.TonightIcansnatchtheirtalkfromthefaintsurf'sdronethroughthecanes,butIcannotwalkonthemoonlitleavesofoceandownthatwhiteroadalone,orfloatwiththedreamingmotionofowlsleavingearth'sload.Oearth,thenumberoffriendsyoukeepexceedsthoselefttobeloved.Theseacanesbythecliffflashgreenandsilver;theyweretheseraphlancesofmyfaith,butoutofwhatislostgrowssomethingstrongerthathastherationalradianceofstone,enduringmoonlight,furtherthandespair,strongasthewind,thatthroughdividingcanesbringsthosewelovebeforeus,astheywere,withfaultsandall,notnobler,justthere.(Wordcount:146)