/lit/ - Literature

>>23215557

OVERRATED: “Do Not Go Gentle” (Silver Medal: “The Hand That Signed The Paper”)

UNDERRATED: Lots of overlooked gems in there; it's hard to pick just one. “If My Head Hurt A Hair’s Foot”, perhaps.

BEST: Hard to argue against “Fern Hill”, although "In My Craft Or Sullen Art" is just about perfect.

WORST: Several, in my opinion, abandon sense too much for the sake of sound. "Altarwise By Owl-Light" is the first that comes to mind.

>>22673829

>>19739456
Dylan Thomas is the man. He has a limited range, but playing on his home ground there's no-one to touch him.

Sometimes he might have been too concerned with sound over sense, but his best stuff isn't *that* obscure. You just have to get on his wavelength. Here are my dozen favourites:

>1. Fern Hill
When DT was young he spent his summer holidays on a farm. Then he grew up, which sucks. (Wordsworth said much the same in Intimations of Immortality.) Best last three lines in the language.

>2. In My Craft Or Sullen Art
Syllabic (each line has seven syllables, except the closing line of each stanza, which has six. There's one slip, IIRC, but that's the basic pattern.) DT once laughed about this poem and said it was all lies, because he worked in the daytime, like everyone else. It doesn't matter though. It's true emotionally. Art is the lie that reveals the truth, as Picasso said.

>3. The Hunchback In The Park
This is good but restrained until the last three stanzas when it suddenly spreads its wings. There's a YouTube video of DT himself reading it but it's flawed, sadly, because he messes up at the end and skips a line and adds it out-of-place.

>4. If My Head Hurt A Hair's Foot
A conversation between a woman and her unborn child. Robert Graves once said this was gibberish and offered a reward of £1 to anyone who could explain it. Sorry Robert, you wrote some good poems yourself, but when it comes to appreciating DT, you're an idiot.

>5. Not From This Anger
DT's girl has just said she's not in the mood. This is exactly how you feel when that happens.

>6. How Shall My Animal
Every writer (and everyone else too, I guess) feels from time to time how ridiculously pallid and inadequate words are for conveying reality. Musicians have it better.

>7. Lament
Rake gets too old to party and suddenly discovers virtue. Many such cases!

>8. O Make Me A Mask
A natural desire for privacy, felt particularly strongly by someone whose job is writing about his feels.

>9. After The Funeral
Eulogy for a woman DT knew. I'm sure Sylvia Plath copied this for "Point Shirley".

>10. Once It Was The Colour Of Saying
He feels himself going stale and mechanical as the vividness of youth dies away. Many poets have written about this.

>11. And Death Shall Have No Dominion
As close to religious as he ever comes. But it works pretty well from a secular perspective too.

>12. Especially When The October Wind
This is about lots of things, but mostly I like it because it nails exactly what it's like to go for a vigorous walk on a raw October day.

>>19369577
>if you're convincing
I guess this means I have to sell it to you? Not sure I can be bothered to tap-dance right now. OK, go on. For a period of about ten years this automatically went into my suitcase whenever I went anywhere. He's the man. He has a limited range, but playing on his home ground there's no-one to touch him. (If you like this try Under Milk Wood and if you like that try Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Dog.)

Here's my dozen favourites. DT often gets accused of obscurity but most of these are pretty straightforward:

>1. Fern Hill
Same sentiment as Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality. Best last three lines in the language.

>2. In My Craft Or Sullen Art
Syllabic (each line has seven syllables, except the closing line of each stanza, which has six. There's one slip, IIRC, but that's the basic pattern.) DT once laughed about this poem and said it was all lies, because he worked in the daytime, like everyone else. It doesn't matter, though. It's true emotionally. Art is the lie that reveals the truth, as Picasso said.

>3. The Hunchback In The Park
This is good but restrained until the last two stanzas when it suddenly spreads its wings and takes off like a flying pig. There's a YT video of DT himself reading it but it's flawed, sadly, because he messes up at the end and skips a line and puts it in out-of-place.

>4. If My Head Hurt A Hair's Foot
A conversation between a woman and her unborn child. Robert Graves once said this was gibberish and offered a reward of £1 to anyone who could explain it. Sorry Robert, you wrote some good poems yourself, but when it comes to judging DT, you're an idiot.

>5. Not From This Anger
This is exactly how you feel when you're in the mood and your GF decides she isn't.

>6. How Shall My Animal
Every writer (and everyone else too I guess) feels from time to time what ridiculously pallid and inadequate tools words are for conveying reality. Musicians have it better.

>7. When I Woke, The Town Spoke
This is a bit like #5: DT absolutely nails a very specific feeling. Here it's the feeling when you're cosy & comfy in bed in the morning and the world says COME ON WAKEY WAKEY.

>8. Lament
Rake gets too old to party and suddenly discovers virtue. Many such cases!

>9. O Make Me A Mask
Natural desire for privacy, felt particularly strongly by someone whose job is writing about his feels.

>10. After The Funeral
Sylvia Plath copied this for "Point Shirley".

>11. Once It Was The Colour Of Saying
He feels himself going stale and mechanical as the vividness of youth dies away. Many poets have written about this.

>12. Especially When The October Wind
This is sort of about lots of things, I think, but mostly I like it because it nails exactly what it's like to go for a vigorous walk on a raw October day.

>>17693576
Good Q. Faulkner, maybe. Depends how alcoholic they have to be. Loads of writers have been drinkers; do they actually have to die of it? <Pic related> would be my choice in that case.

>>17310027
He's the man. He has a limited range, but playing on his home ground there's no-one to touch him. <Picture attached> and Under Milk Wood are the essential reads. If you like them, try Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Dog. You don't really need anything else.

Here's my favourite dozen poems. DT gets accused of obscurity but most of these are pretty straightforward.

>1. Fern Hill
Same sentiment as Wordsworth's Intimation of Immortality. Best last three lines in the language.

>2. In My Craft Or Sullen Art
Syllabic (each line has seven syllables, except the closing line of each stanza, which has six. There's one slip, IIRC, but that's the basic pattern.) DT once laughed about this poem and said it was all lies, because he worked in the daytime, like everyone else. It doesn't matter a bit, though. It's true emotionally. Art is the lie that reveals the truth, as Picasso said.

>3. The Hunchback In The Park
This is good but restrained until the last two stanzas when it suddenly spreads its wings and takes off like a flying pig.

>4. If My Head Hurt A Hair's Foot
A conversation between a woman and her unborn child. Robert Graves once said this was gibberish and offered a reward of £1 to anyone who could explain it. Sorry Robert, you wrote some good poems yourself, but when it comes to judging DT, you're an idiot.

>5. Not From This Anger
DT's girlfriend/wife has just turned him down. This is exactly how you feel when that happens.

>6. How Shall My Animal
Every writer (and everyone else too I guess) feels from time to time what ridiculously pallid and inadequate tools words are for conveying reality. Musicians have it better.

>7. When I Woke, The Town Spoke
This is a bit like #5: DT absolutely nails a very specific feeling. Here it's the feeling when you're cosy & comfy in bed in the morning and the world says COME ON WAKEY WAKEY.

>8. Lament
Rake gets too old to party and suddenly discovers virtue. Many such cases!

>9. O Make Me A Mask
Natural desire for privacy, felt particularly strongly by someone whose job is writing about his feels.

>10. After The Funeral
Sylvia Plath copied this for "Point Shirley".

>11. Once It Was The Colour Of Saying
He feels himself going stale and mechanical as the vividness of youth dies away. Many poets have written about this.

>12. Especially When The October Wind
This is sort of about lots of things, I think, but mostly I like it because it nails exactly what it's like to go for a vigorous walk on a raw October day.

>>16983609
He's the man. He has a limited range, but playing on his home ground there's no-one to touch him. <Picture attached> and Under Milk Wood are the essential reads. If you like them, try Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Dog. You don't really need anything else.

Here's my favourite dozen poems. DT gets accused of obscurity but most of these are pretty straightforward.

>1. Fern Hill
Same sentiment as Wordsworth's Intimation of Immortality. Best last three lines in the language.

>2. In My Craft Or Sullen Art
Syllabic (each line has seven syllables, except the closing line of each stanza, which has six. There's one slip, IIRC, but that's the basic pattern.) DT once laughed about this poem and said it was all lies, because he worked in the daytime, like everyone else.

>3. The Hunchback In The Park
This is good but restrained until the last two stanzas when it suddenly spreads its wings and takes off like a flying pig.

>4. If My Head Hurt A Hair's Foot
A conversation between a woman and her unborn child. Robert Graves once said this was gibberish and offered a reward of £1 to anyone who could explain it. Sorry Robert, you wrote some good poems yourself, but when it comes to judging DT, you're an idiot.

>5. Not From This Anger
DT's girlfriend/wife has just turned him down. This is exactly how you feel when that happens.

>6. How Shall My Animal
Every writer (and everyone else too I guess) feels from time to time what ridiculously pallid and inadequate tools words are for conveying reality. Musicians have it better.

>7. When I Woke, The Town Spoke
This is a bit like #5: DT absolutely nails a very specific feeling. Here it's the feeling you get when you're cosy & comfy in bed in the morning and the world says COME ON WAKEY WAKEY.

>8. Lament
Rake gets too old to party and suddenly discovers virtue. Many such cases!

>9. O Make Me A Mask
Natural desire for privacy, felt particularly strongly by someone whose job is writing about his feels.

>10. After The Funeral
Sylvia Plath copied this for "Point Shirley".

>11. Once It Was The Colour Of Saying
He feels himself going stale and mechanical as the vividness of youth dies away. Many poets have written about this.

>12. Especially When The October Wind
This is sort of about lots of things, I guess, but mostly I like it because it nails exactly what it's like to go for a vigorous walk on a raw October day.

>>16967088
Crow (Ted Hughes) is a close second

>>16327119
Another perpetual re-read.