"Now, to pry into
roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing."
A Trace in the Sand
Poetry
by Ruth Malan
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My various "Traces in the Sand"
- Architecture Action Guide Book Draft -
Resources for Architects Other Interests - Ryan - Ryan's Flopping Fish site - Sara More local and travel photos: |
Poetry First, let me say I appreciate literary greatness. Some of my favorite authors and poets have become Nobel laureates: JM Coetzee, Nadine Gordimer, and Seamus Heaney are among them. After 20 years, JM Coetzee's Waiting for the Barbarians still haunts me. Nadine Gordimer's Burger's Daughter will help you understand the social and political climate I grew up in. Seamus Heaney's Field Work is, I find, accessible (in contrast to some his more recent poetry, which I have to work harder at) and richly rewarding. So, I know what it is to be humbled by greatness, yet still venture to share in the endeavor of writing. When I am moved, poetry (well, ... that's what I call it) springs into my mind. I observe that I write prose that is like poetry and poetry that is like prose. I tip my hat to convention, but I will not be restrained by it. At any rate, I like my poetry because it tells the story of me. But, I'm biased; I like me. I don't expect everyone to have the same forbearance for this tiny window to my mind, my soul. So, a sliver is shown here, because even a sliver is more than I expect to be tolerable to anyone but me! When a good friend's son died in 1994, this poem surfaced. I wrote another verse, but I only remember the first... In dying, Stith gave me life--opening me up to grief, opened me up to feeling, shook me out of the dullness I had hidden in.
The next two are about writing poetry. First, thoughts that propelled my pen during a visit to London: London A city that inspires Pulsed by yearning Bolt upright in the
night This on a trip away from home: I wrote this as prose to a friend, but realized it was a poem that says volumes about how I came to be the singular person that is me:
Background The
voice you hear
Wind
to Me Missing You sequence Rain Images sequence
Of course, Seamus Heaney put it best (in "Personal Helicon"):
"Now, to pry into
roots, to finger slime,
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Copyright © 1994-2008 by Ruth Malan
URL: http://www.ruthmalan.com
Page Created: February 1, 2006
Last Modified: November 28, 2008