Larkin himself said somewhere that deprivation for him was “what daffodils were for Wordsworth”. I don’t know about the deprivation, but he turned me into a new “moneyed class in verse.”
After reading Stephan Dunn, a few days back, I was just thinking that why I can’t get a poem book by a poet who is modern and who writes in rhymes, like those classic poets. Then I rummaged in my list, which is unorganized as far as poetry books are concerned, I am still learning to make them orderly. Today I made a folder, which looks businesslike. And I have given it an archaic name, “The Poesy Folder”. Anything related to poiein, poiema, poeme or poem , whatever is that, will go into this folder now.
This book I got, the only Philip Larkin poetry book in my library. It’s small. I had added the complete collection of poems of Larkin years back, but could not read them anytime. I have no idea where that is. I am on a poetry spree nowadays. I am fully utilizing my free time. I am posting lots of reviews too. I am happy. I am not a critic, I am a reader. I blow my own trumpet in my own melody after reading books. Sometimes I rodomontade!
So I found Philip Larkin amazing. In this collection, I found 32 sublime poems. There is beauty and rhyme. I found everything: assonance, consonance, alliteration, euphony, or whatever you define in poetry. I may be incorrect in observation, but I am correct in sentiments.
“Strange to be ignorant of the way things work:
Their skill at finding what they need,
Their sense of safe and punctual spread of seed,
And willingness to change;
Yes it is strange,”
Philip Larkin
You will find in his poems; Mr. Bleaney’s room, electric mixers, toasters, driers, Bombay to Berkley, balconies, flower baskets, quadrilles, and so many things in and around. He binds the ordinary things in such a beauteous manner that your soul gets filled. The aroma of his metrical and sensitive craft with a good sense of humor made me feel nice. Really nice! I will recommend this book to all who have not yet witnessed the beautiful poetic art of the poet. It’s short and very good in taste.
In the end, I will share one poem which is very interesting, a contrast between the life of a married and bachelor man. The title is “Self’s the man.”
Enjoy it!
“Oh, no one can deny
That Arnold is less selfish than I.
He married a woman to stop her getting away
Now she’s there all day,And the money he gets for wasting his life on work
She takes as her perk
To pay for the kiddies’ clobber and the drier
And the electric fire,And when he finishes supper
Planning to have a read at the evening paper
It’s Put a screw in this wall –
He has no time at all,With the nippers to wheel round the houses
And the hall to paint in his old trousers
And that letter to her mother
Saying Won’t you come for the summer.To compare his life and mine
Makes me feel a swine:
Oh, no one can deny
That Arnold is less selfish than I.But wait, not do fast:
Is there such a contrast?
He was out for his own ends
Not just pleasing his friends;And if it was such a mistake,
He still did it for his own sake,
Playing his own game.
So he and I are the same,
Only I’m a better hand
At knowing what I can stand! ” – Philip Larkin
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“There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, ‘Consume me’.”
— Virginia Woolf
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