I fear I must begin this post with an apology, for I had inadvertently deleted my first response, immediately after Squatter started this thread. And that post suggested linked references to poesy such as Rimbaud has gone on to explore in his post which was originally subsequent to this one.
My initial thought was to gently tease Squatter about how this thread coincides with his new sig, which fascinatingly recontextualizes the lines from Owen's poem, drawing interesting comparisons with some of Rimbaud's previous sigs on poetry. Yet when I follow the link to the poem in its entirety, it keens me greatly, (if I can use that intransitive verb transitively) especially these days.
My own sig offers just two lines from a poem which I both respect and admire. (No, not my own, I hasten to add. [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]) It is a refined, exquisitely crafted poem of great beauty and breathtaking in its haunting, condensed expression. I suspect it is the melding of passionate feeling with tightly structured control which intrigues me so much. It brings me to my knees every time I recite it, in awe.
And btw, Squatter, you were prophetic, old chap.
Bethberry
[ February 24, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]
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I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away.
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