Rome and the Romantic Poets

I visited Rome in May this year, for the first time since my pilgrimage 10 years ago.   Unfortunately, I didn't have much time for sight-seeing as the main purpose of my visit was to attend the one-in-four-years assembly which my Catholic charity has in Rome.

Temple of Aesculapius, Gardens of Villa Borghese

But I did get there one day earlier and managed to visit a few places I've not been to before - the grounds of the Villa Borghese, and the Keats-Shelley Museum.  They are quite near each other, and make quite a pleasant day's sightseeing.

The Villa Borghese was originally owned by Cardinal Scipione Borghese, nephew of Pope Paul V, hence the name.  The Villa holds one of the top art collections in Rome - unfortunately I didn't realise I had to book well in advance to enter (something to note for future reference).  So I could only visit the Borghese Gardens, the park surrounding the Villa and itself one of the largest public parks in Rome.  The park is also the site of a  famous horse show arena, the Piazza di Siena, hence the statues of horses I saw there.  I didn't realise it but there was a famous horse show going on at the time - so the grounds were full of caravans and the like.

The Church of Trinita dei Monti

From the park, I took a slow walk to the Spanish steps.  The Spanish Steps are so named because the square they lead down to (Piazza di Spagna, or the Spanish Square) houses the Spanish Embassy to the Holy See which is still here today. It's one of the most famous squares/stairs in Rome, made famous by the movie, Roman Holiday starring none other than Audrey Hepburn.

But, the steps are really called Scalinata di Trinità dei Monti in Italian as they lead up to the Church of Trinità dei Monti.  The Italians have recently stopped visitors from sitting on these famous stairs but when I was there, the restrictions were not in place and it was a rather nice, happy atmosphere, of people sitting and chatting and taking in the atmosphere.

T he other strange little irony about this area is that this Spanish Square is practically the "English Quarter" of Rome!  The English loved Italy, attracted by the warm weather (so different from the rainy weather back home) and good food.  Many came here for the opportunity to study classical Rome and others to admire the architecture and art, and to be inspired by the glorious scenery.  So around this area are cafes such as  Cafe Grecco, the oldest coffee house in Rome where luminaries such as Byron and Goethe used to hang out.  Another English favourite was Babington's, an English tea room just on the left of the Spanish stairs (as you ascend the stairs).  It's been around since 1893!

John Keat's room

On the right of the Spanish steps is where John Keats stayed, and died.  This building is now the Keats-Shelley Museum, dedicated to the memory of Keats, Shelley and Byron (who lived across the square at No. 66). Since I occasionally fancy myself a poet I decided that this was where I would spend my precious afternoon in Rome.

Indeed, the tragedy of Keats' short life is preserved here in this little museum.  There are just a few rooms in this little museum - a main living area, and two bedrooms.  Keats' room holds his bed, a chest of drawers and his death mask beside his bed.

He was just 25 years old when he passed away of tuberculosis, convinced that he had not achieved anything in life.  His published works were few, and due to his ill-health, he could not marry the lady he loved, Fanny Brawne.  He was buried in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome.  As per his instruction, his name is not on the tombstone and it only states that "Here one lies whose name was writ on water", ie a name which doesn't leave a mark but is washed away as the water flows...

English Romantic Poets in Rome

Despite his own modest assessment of his worth, Keats today is regarded as one of the geniuses of English literature with his famous odes, such as Ode to a Nightingale, Ode to a Grecian Urn, and my favourite (which I have referred to already once on this blog), Ode to Autumn.

Sadly, the three Romantic poets all died young.  Percy Bysshe Shelley, Keats' good friend, drowned after the boat he was in floundered in a heavy storm.   He was just 29 years old.  Shelley's widow, Mary, is of course very famous in her own right thanks to her novel, Frankenstein.  In fact her creation is probably more famous than she is!

The last of the three, Lord Byron, or George Gordon Byron, died at the age of 36 years, from a disease caught whilst he was fighting for the Greeks in the Greek War of Independence.  For that he was considered a hero amongst the Greeks, a true Romantic who died for his ideals but whose memory lives amongst them still.

I came away reflecting about the transience of life.  To everything there is a season.  But truth, beauty, love of nature, freedom of expression, life and liberty, the importance of being true to oneself - these were indeed the externals which the Romantics stood for and whilst they passed away, their poetry lives on and their message with them.

Poetry Exercise No. 18: Haiku

A rather late revert to my attempt to complete the poetry exercises in "The Ode Less Travelled" by Stephen Fry.  Inspired by my visit to Japan.

According to what I learnt reading "Miss Happiness and Miss Flower" as a child, haikus have 17 syllables

On Mount Yoshino

altogether, and are arranged in three lines, of 5, 7 and 5 syllables respectively.  However, according to Stephen Fry, it appears that this strict adherence to the Japanese syllabic form is not quite right.  Obviously Japanese words have fewer syllables than English words.  They say more with these 17 syllables then English speakers.  Rather the haiku is supposed to be the distillation of a moment of inspiration or imagination, the "haiku moment".  Stephen Fry also instructs that there must be a "seasonal word", or "kigo" in each haiku, to tell the reader what season this haiku is meant for, and should preferrably refer to the natural world.

The poetry exercise requires us to write four haiku, one for each season of the year.  But I don't really want to as my photos are all of spring and cherry blossoms.  So, I will just write three haiku, to celebrate the beautiful sakura flower.

Grounds of the Imperial Palace, Kyoto

Dreaming of the spring
Cherry trees begin to bloom
Buds await their turn

Sitting by the tree 

Pale pink petals float and sway

Blossoms on the wind

Silver on the ground

Above, fresh green leaves unfurl

Life begins anew

CATS! The Musical

One of the best things about being a scruffy student in London was the special student rates for the theatre. Or, that being a student in London gave you enough time to line up and wait for half-price tickets.

The first musical I saw was 42nd Street, with the part of Peggy Sawyer taken by a certain Ms Catherine Zeta-Jones. It got me hooked on the excitement and glamour of Broadway and I swung on one (1) lamp post on the way home.

Cats followed soon after. There is no musical quite like Cats - it is not the story (there is no story), but the music, the dance, the set and the sheer feline charm. I was pretty familiar with the music (borrowed and copied a friend's tape - yes those were the days of tapees) but Cats brought home to me what a complete theatre experience really was. Looking at the set before the show started was a good opportunity to see the details - the huge tire, up-sized so that a human on it would be on the same scale as cat on a real tire. But once the music began and the cats started slinking on the stage - the set just receded into the background and all eyes were on the cats.

I just saw Cats again last Sunday near the start of its run in Singapore. I must say I was slightly disappointed that the stage was not rotating and the set less exciting (the tire was barely visible at the back of the stage). But as each cat character was introduced to the audience, as they sang and danced before me, I was totally captivated (and singing along in my head).

And of course the cats themselves! Mostly from the poems in T.S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, the inspiration for my own cat poems. I have tried many times also to call my cats by three different names but I can't compete with Jennyanydots or Rum Tum Tugger (Dinky Darling and Wily Winky don't have the same ring to it). Maybe one day. My only other critique (aside from the slight disappointment over the set) was that the totally boring song, "The Pekes and the Pollicles", could have been dropped. It is after all about dogs, not cats.

Cats is indeed a musical "now and forever". I can't quite say that I enjoyed it as much as the first time (I was still a young impressionable sua ku student then) but it was still so fresh and full of fun and joy. Here are some clips from Youtube in case any one wants to watch/ jog a memory or two.

Odes to Ode

Today I had dinner with the blogger behind Not by Bread Alone and as a result started trying to find out how I would fare on a google search of "Stephen Fry poetry exercise". The answer is: quite poorly, I'm afraid. Definitely not on any of the first 5 pages and so I gave up. What I did find along the way, were reviews of The Ode Less Travelled in the New York Times, the Telegraph and the Observer. Actually I would consider only the NYT as a proper review - the Telegraph appears to be more a profile piece and the Observer merely describes the contents of the book. Also, quite a few other people have also put their poetry exercise products on-line. Just google: Stephen Fry poetry exercise and you will see them popping up.

Anyway, I have decided to come back to the next poetry exercise in the book which is on heroic verse. Instead, I'm at the section on "The Ode" where there are no exercises!! A break at last !!

In this section, Fry talks about the various "types" of odes : the Sapphic Ode (the originator was Sappho, in case anyone is not clear about the rather obvious origins of the name), the Pindaric Ode and the Horatian Ode, which are the classical odes, the Lyric Ode beloved of Keats, Shelley etc, and the anacreontic which essentially celebrates life and living.

I thought I would go round looking for exemplars of the Sapphic Ode (I don't think that there are many examples of the Pindaric or Horatian wandering around). Fry quotes Alexander Pope's Ode to Solitude as an example, as I liked the poem I reproduce it here:

Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yield shade,
In winter, fire.

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years, slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day.

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixed; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

This poem paints a very attractive picture of the simple life, a quiet home away from the busyness of the wide world outside. Alas, the world has a habit of intruding upon such tranquil retreats.

I also found "Virtue" by George Herbert - a cheerful poem reminding us of the transience of the mortal world. As can be seen, the English form of the Sapphic Ode is 3 lines in iambic tetrameter followed by one line of two imabic feet. The rhyme scheme in these examples is ABAB, but I imagine that this can be varied somewhat.

I did find an example of a Pindaric Ode as well, but it did not appeal to me. What did appeal were Keats' Odes: to Autumn, especially. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness indeed, of promises fulfilled and harvests reaped.



Ok - got to get back to the heroic verse now.

Poetry Exercise No. 12: The Ballad

We are now on to ballads. 4-beat and 3-beat lines alternating. It is a fairly loose form - with either 4 or 6 lines per verse, ABAB or ABCB rhyming pattern. Doesn't need to be strict tetra/trimeter, as long as the rhythm holds.

Apparently ballads have rather "low", folk origins. Fry describes it as " pub poetry... it can be macabre, brutal, sinister, preachy, ghostly, doom-laden, lurid, erotic, mock-solemn, facetious, pious or obscene....". I was reading my copy of "Everyman's Book of Evergreen Verse" to find some examples and certainly W.S. Gilbert's "The Yarn of the Nancy Bell" fits the bill. Its main feature is the refrain:

O, I am a cook and a captain bold
And the mate of the Nancy brig,
And a bo'sun tight and a midshipmite
And the crew of the captain's gig.

And for those who do not know this poem, all that needs to be said is that it is a tale about cannibalism on the high seas. The whole poem can be found here (not copying it in here as this is already going to be a long post as it is). It is a fun, rollicking poem and has got a great rhythm and swing to it. Guess that is what a ballad is all about.


Ok, now for the confession. There is an exercise. We're meant to complete a ballad with the first two verses as composed by Fry:

Now gather round and let me tell
The tale of Danny Wise;
And how his sweet wife Annabelle
Did suck out both his eyes.

And if I tell the story true
And if I tell it clear
There's not a mortal one of you
Won't shriek in mortal fear.

What can I say? I must admit that this little attempt does not spark off anything in me. It is difficult enough as it is to think of a story as to why a wife would suck out her husband's eyes (beyond the obvious). I did think of an allusion to Neil Gaiman's Corinthian (a nightmare with an eye fetish) but discarded that as I felt Annabelle deserved something better. In the end I was inspired by the latest season of "Heroes" although I have tried to vary the talent in this case.

And so the poem continues:

Now Danny ever as a lad
Had eyes so sharp and bright,
That they could spot the tiniest speck
And pierce the darkest night.

One day Danny went to the fair
Some fake CDs to sell,
And who should he see standing there
But our sweet Annabelle.

Danny took one look at her and
Completely lost his heart;
And Annabelle she glanced at Dan
- And loved him from the start.

So they married, our happy pair
And built a happy home.
But that's not all, else there would be
An end to this bad poem.

For Danny's sight grew sharper still
Super vision then had he!
Eyes which could burn through wood and stone
And all that he could see.

For Danny couldn't control his gift
In fact it was a curse;
All that he saw he set aflame
And it was getting worse.

At last he asked sweet Annabelle
To save him from his pain;
To find a way for him to lose
The gift that was his bane.

Annabelle tried all that she could -
Toiling night and day
But everything that she tried failed
Until t'was one last way

So now I've come to the end of
The tale of Danny Wise;
And how his sweet wife Annabelle
Did suck out both his eyes.

I know. It stinks. But what to do. Remember - it's just an exercise!

Poetry Exercise No. 11: Open Forms

We have moved on from rhyme, to stanzaic forms. There are different types of forms – open forms, where the overall length is left to the poet, and closed forms which follow a set pattern and length.

The assignment does not hold much interest (at least to me). For each open form, we are supposed to write a poem which describes the form. I think I prefer writing about my dear little cats who are, after all, an endless source of interest and inspiration.

So here we go with the first open form :

Terza Rima :
Tercets are 3-line stanzas. Terza Rima can be any length but the rhyme scheme is ABA, BCB, CDC, and so on till the last stanza which is four lines long, in the format DEDE. My attempt, called "Feeding Time":

When evening comes, it's time to eat
We walk out with a jar of food
The cats rush back in, from the street.

Wait politely - I wish they would -
But urgently they beg and plead,
And push each other - oh, so rude!

Finally, they begin to feed
Heads all down, they keep munching on
Heaven knows, it's really just greed -
In five minutes, it has all gone!

Quatrains :
4-line stanzas. Can be cross-rhymed, or ABAB; envelope-rhymed, or ABBA. The Rubai is a quatrain form from Persia, with a rhyme scheme of AABA. I did not know that this famous verse was from the Ruba'yat of Omar Khayyam (translated by Edward Fitzgerald, in iambic pentameter to boot):

The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

Alas, my own effort cannot compare:

Our Casey cat often treats us with hauteur
We ask her to sit, to come and drink water
But unless she gets her favourite treats
She only obeys should it be her pleasure.

(Note: use of weak endings. Also, pleasure is not a perfect rhyme - assonance?)

Poetry Exercise No. 11 will be continued in my next post. There is still Rhyme Royal, and Ottava Rima to go! Plus the Spencerian Stanza!

Understanding poetry

I'm still reading "The Ode Less Travelled", but have also started surfing the internet for poetry sites. Here's a nice one which offers a "Course in 8 Lessons" to understanding poetry.

It complements Stephen Fry's book quite nicely - Fry emphasises writing, and teaches metric, rhyme and forms. This one looks at metaphor, imagery and how to read a poem.