Foibles, Frolics and Phantasms
An illustrated Poetry book by Paul Catherall.
Extracts and Illustrations
I thought I would offer my own critical
overview of some of the poems, with perhaps a few snippets from the accompanying
illustrations, these are just a few of my favourites - Paul.
A Journey
A poem exploring the journey we all face from non-existence to life
and the surreal nature of this passage; the speaker is awaiting a ferry
to carry him to the world of the living, there is the distinct reference
here to the legend of the Ferryman who carried the souls of the dead to
the underworld, in this case, however, the journey begins in a place of
non-existence, filled with trepidation of the coming transformation:
On the pebble beach I await a grim ferry,
its grinning timbers
approach the coral landing.
Monoglot
There are connotations of language in this poem, perhaps
influenced by the author's locality, where the ancient Welsh language
has been in decline for decades. The speaker's isolation is reflected in
his inability to communicate with his environment and the surreal
figures who inhabit it:
In the valley below, people are whispering -
their eloquent dialect
and chill wind's muttering
seem to relate...
Cave
A bizarre, surreal poem featuring a brutish ogre counting
his 'moonstones', apparently indifferent to the surging, chaotic landscape
around him; perhaps this is a reflection of humankind today, a misshapen
figure obsessed
with material wealth and out of touch with his environment:
Deep, deep underground -
the hoary troll
counts moonstones with a flickering pierce,
casting pale shadows in the
glow
of incandescent suns -
slashing the dark with hungry
cadaverous teeth...
Chaos
Another surreal poem; how can the speaker reconcile himself with the
forces of nature when he is a mere shadow of humanity, a 'cyborg'
whose thoughts are driven by 'electrodes' ?
Ultimates are everything, they define gravity;
Clockwork nature menstruates its aeons,
Heaving seas
Subaqueate desert pastures,
On the ocean bed
Blind hunters track their prey...
Poem for a Poet
One of a number of poems in the book considering the whys and wherefores
or poetry itself, is poetry an art, a science or mere fancy?
Were it not so sure
of itself,
the poem would be
like the poet -
wavering over a phonetic confluence,
muttering idly
over an image....
Forefathers
The speaker's 'roots' are quite literally discussed in this poem, there
is a subtle comparison between the struggle of a
root's growth in the soil and the hard struggle of the miner community
of ages past. The struggle
for growth and survival still faces the present generation,
reflected in the contrast between the old faith-based existence and the
skepticism of the modern world.
Where are the citizens, the bronze miners?
Whitewashed houses murmur
their retributions -
nothing has changed,
their spirits are still here;
defined and bent with prohibitions -
unearthed among the back roots
that touch my heart endlessly,
burning like an ochre flame...
Pathetic Fallacy
A surreal critique of the 'Pathetic Fallacy' described by John
Ruskin as an elevated state of mind when individuals are affected by
the sights, sounds and power of the natural world. Whilst humanity may
believe it has attained empathy with nature, the character in the poem
seems to see only reflections of their own ego.
Over the darkening grass, I imagine
the dank abode of man, fixed
to the flesh, married like a snail
with the skin...
Stalking Grounds
The poem reflects on the degradation of the natural world from the
splendid to the comic, as a result of humanity's influence over his environment,
this is reflected in the attempt of the predatory cats to hunt. The environment
surrounding the cats is a pale reflection of its former majestic state,
the cats themselves resemble toys:
The grasses are actually lawns...
...the cats sense their dismay:
tawny hue and jet, one minute sporting -
each with the articulate delineation of
the toy maker;
War and Peace
A short critique of the charade of human conflict:
Underground in the shelters they partied -
sometimes fashion required
formal attire, other times
casual dress exposed the hidden anterior;
serene, the dancers performed
transactions
to the rhythm of automatic fire.
The Serpent Ouroboros
A bizarre motif, the Serpent Ouroboros is an ancient symbol
of self-renewal found in many cultures around the world, it is often depicted
as a gigantic serpent that encircles the earth,
forever biting its own tail.
High above Gaia's azure veil,
embroidered with the jewels of night -
the serpent Ouroboros strides the sky...
Changes
A thought provoking poem on the nature of change and how we perceive
this phenomenon as participants (or victims) of change; the steady tempo
of the poem reflects the 'strutting' aspect of daily living we often take
for granted:
Today's normality struts forth indifferently,
A senile pace, an egoistic
rite...
The Spiral
The speaker attempts to relate their experience
in being sensitive to the experience of life from a central
point, from which he can glimpse fragments of both the past and future,
however these visions are 'obscured' by the solid 'frontier' of the
material world which exists between the speaker and the 'netherworld' where
past, present and future are all present. A very strange poem...
From my window-seat, I see the landscape fly,
forms pass, but who is
moving -
the traveler within the shell of motion
or the shifting world beyond?
Walking in Cader Idris
A walk into the unspoiled mountains of Cader Idris in North
West Wales; the speaker is able to sense forces of nature at work in this
environment but also suggests how this landscape is almost frozen
in time, unaffected by the influences of the modern world.
Ahead stretched meandering paths -
Forces of nature both seeding and
fading
Appeared in each boulder and crevice...
The Sorcerer
A juvenilia poem. The 'aged sorcerer' is a timeless,
shadowy figure of the forest who extends healing
and wisdom to local villagers; there are hints of Merlin and the druids.
The sorcerer is a metaphor for the decline of our relationship with
nature - as the sorcerer is finally driven out as a consequence of the
machine and the complexities of the modern world.
Deep within the forest dim -
in a house that none might find,
dwelt the aged sorcerer,
stooped his body, dark his mind..
Sonnet to the Ancient Town
Another juvenilia poem, a pure fantasy but also a very surreal vision
of a town which has long outlived its prime.
Oh ancient town bestride the restless shore,
Old shadows lingered lastest at thy gates...
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