Poetry Blog No 184 Moonset

MOONSET 

 

      In some ways a printed poem can be considered as more than a conveyance of meaning and imagery. It can also (like a written music score) be thought of as a pattern for an acoustic “object”.

     This object can be re-created by recitation or even by quietly reading aloud to oneself.

In this short poem two of the acoustic features (amongst others) are the repetition (or assonance) of the vowel i (as in night) and the stressed, unstressed, unstressed foot in the meter. This is called a dactyl or dactylic foot. (Wild is the wind as it rides with the night) . Although most lines end on a stressed syllable, because the meaning doesn't directly run over to the next line (technically called enjambment) a slight pause before speaking the next line could be felt as two "silent" unstressed syllables.

 

                                    MOONSET

Wild is the wind as it rides with the night;

Wild is the wind as it sets the sky sighing.

Bright's the thin moon as westward it's lying.

Bright is the white-shining chalice of light,

Bearing the circle of earth-light's far shine.

Silent's the sightless, swift passing of time.

Silent is time as it's endlessly flying.

Bright is the moonship on time's ebbing tide;

Bright as it glides beneath dark of earth side;

Smiling good-bye on horizon's black bar-

Leaving the night to wild wind, dark and star.

Poetry Blog No 183 Norfolk Island Pines at Dusk

 

NORFOLK ISLAND PINES AT DUSK

In a civilisation dominated by the prosaic, by data and purely intellectual models of the real, there is a threat of creative stagnation and loss of human meaning. I believe that poetry is an art that can, perhaps more than most, give back something of the mystery and immediacy of actual experience.

The Norfolk Island Pines mentioned in this piece are endemic to Norfolk Island.

Araucaria heterophylla (synonym A. excelsa) is a vascular plant in the ancient and now disjointly distributed conifer family Araucariaceae. As its vernacular name Norfolk Island pine implies, the tree is endemic to Norfolk Island, a small island in the Pacific Ocean between New Zealand and New Caledonia, about 1440 km east of Sydney, Australia. The genus Araucaria occurs across the South Pacific, especially concentrated in New Caledonia (about 700 km due north of Norfolk Island) where 13 closely related and similar-appearing species are found. It is sometimes called a star pine, triangle tree or living Christmas tree, due to its symmetrical shape as a sapling, although it is not a true pine. From Wikipedia

NORFOLK ISLAND PINES AT DUSK

Wide autumn waves lap last gold light

that fades from west line’s burning sight.

Four Norfolk pines, dusk-dark,

upon a seaside hill

stand tall.

Sky sentinels, they raise

their needled branches high

towards violet sky vastness,

ethereal and far.

And in light-melting western haze,

behind pines’ silhouetted sharpness,

now Venus is

first-blazing star. 

 

Poetrry Blog No 182 Narrow Roads to Inner Lands Scene 10

NARROW ROADS TO INNER LANDS SCENE 10 

 

Bashō and Sora arrive at Matsushima which is a collection of islands in a bay regarded as one of the great scenic views in Japan, Despite its beauty Bashō experiences somer unexpected feelings while seeing his desired “moonrise over islands”.

Matsushima is a group of islands in Miyagi Prefecture, Japan. There are some 260 tiny islands (shima) covered in pines (matsu) – hence the name – and is ranked as one of the Three Views of Japan. From WIKIPEDIA

In 20011 the islands lessened the damage onshore from the Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami. 

 

...the area was protected by the islands and suffered relatively little damage.The initial tsunami was 3.2 meters (10.5 feet) with the second 3.8 meters (12.5 feet). Electricity was restored by March 18, water fully restored by April 16th and the Senseki Train Line between Takagimachi Station and Sendai by May 28. Nevertheless, 3 people were confirmed killed in Matsushima (including by aftershocks) with 18 killed while out of town. from Wikipedia

SCENE TEN

Island of Ojima. Sandy beach. The sound of waves. Lights- late afternoon to dusk. Enter Bashō and Sora.

SORA

At last our wanderings have lead us here-

To these wide sands spread by this wild, blue bay,

This sight so praised for most abundant beauty,

With its far scattering of windy islands.

BASHŌ

Yes, Ojima's long island where we are

And all of Matsushima's bay are famed

For wonder views right-thought equal those

Of great and wide-spread lakes in Chinese lands.

SORA

And it didn’t take so many walking days

To reach here from the monument of Taga.

BASHŌ

Yet many-seen were scenes upon the way.

Remember, Sora, how we came upon

Dark pine woods near the temple Masshōzan.

And there we saw a multitude of tombstones,

The graves of many people past, all scattered

Amongst the ever-needled trees, reminding

How all that we perceive must pass- the waves

Must break at last, white-foaming on the shore,

For young and old, and loved and loving, all

Must lay the body down at their life's ending.

Then entering the town of Shirogama,

We heard the sounding of the curfew bell.

The May-rain sky was darkening but clearing.

Faint, early moonlight shining showed the shape

Of close Magaki island, near to shore.

Faint voices of far fishermen dividing

The catch of day called up strange loneliness

And brought an instant grasp of ancient verses

Which pity their precarious existence

Upon the changes of the restless sea.

(Bashō and Sora walk on.)

SORA

But dawn dissolved our sombre mood when we

Arose to view the beauty of these parts.

BASHŌ

I paid my homage at a hallowed spot

The famous shrine of Shiogama where

The morning sunlight lit vermillion fencing

As I approached - so brightly, almost dazzling.

I was most deeply moved to note how far

Divine, bright power can penetrate: such warming,

Such shining rays reach even this far north.

SORA

Yes, certainly this scene is blessed by beauty.

I am reminded of the Chinese poets.

Just as the river Sekkō there is filled

At each swell by the ceaseless tide, so here

The bay brims with waters of the ocean.

BASHŌ

And countless islands scatter on that sea:

Tall islands point their peaks up toward the sky

And level ones bow down before long billows

In seeming servitude to ceaseless change:

The battering of waves and wind. Yet all

Are like a steadfast soul that holds its own

Against the forms of ever-changing life,

Not swept away by each impression's power,

But able thus to stand in inmost strength,

Within the sea of endless changing form,

Firm-anchored in the ever-lasting law.

SORA

Indeed. Here islands almost pile on islands-

Some join to other islands so they seem

Like rocky parents patting smaller offspring

Or strolling with them, arm in arm. The pines,

Of freshest green, have branches curved and bent

By constant blowing of sea breezes, yet

Their boughs do not seem all distorted, but

Formed in the finest, most exquisite lines.

       

BASHŌ (thoughtfully)

Yes. Beauty as is found here only finds

Comparison with finest female features.

For who could form such balanced beauty but

The great god of all nature? I fear my pen

Would strive in vain to equal this wild grace.

Yet Sora, I believe you wrote a verse,

A poem on this place some while ago?

SORA (extracting it from his pack)

Yes, master Bashō, this is the very verse.

Clear-voiced cuckoo, you

Need the wide crane's silver wings

To span these islands.

(Bashō rises)

BASHŌ

Yes, Sora, that is fine. But for myself

I cannot find a single line to speak.

(The light reddens and darkens. The sound of the sea

grows, mixed with the sound of wind.)

SORA

The light's already failing in the west

And strong sea wind is driving darkening clouds

In ragged streaks across the glooming sky.

I saw some houses back behind the shore,

With pale, blue threads of rising smoke, amid

The scattered forest of the pines. I'll see

If I can find a place for us to sleep.

BASHŌ

Yes, I shall join you in a little while.

(Sora exits.) (The scene grows darker.)

BASHŌ

I feel a strange and restless yearning here.

Yet if, as though to interrupt such musing,

I look out to the far-spread eastern skyline,

Full moon is rising, mirroring its shine,

Upon the wide waves of the darkened waters.

(There is a gradually growing moonlight.)

Its whiteness wakes an almost eerie feeling.

As if I were within another world,

Quite different from my familiar realm.

And though I long have longed to view this beauty,

To see the silent moon rise over islands,

I feel a little flooded by its fineness,

And search for lost serenity. I shall

Not linger long here in this passing splendour

But join the ruling of the road quite soon,

For I've not found the secret of my searching,

Here - in the islands of fair Matsushima,

Beneath the rising beauty of the moon.

(Bashō exits)