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Showing posts from May, 2016

A Poet's Journal: March 4th, 2015

  March 4th, 2015 There was a swoop in the air and, thinking it the wind, noticed a flock of song-birds passing over.  It is strange to wonder then, how many times we may say something with one intention in mind, but provide suitable ground for other unconscious actions.  When the birds pass, they do not think they are the wind, nor even birds. Douglas Thornton

A Biographical Remark in Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis

An essay invoking the cognitive relationship between Shakespeare's biographical life and Shakespeare's poetical life found in his narrative poem: Venus and Adonis . ‘And lo I lie between the sun and thee’ (Venus and Adonis; line 194) To see the poet in the act of composition, to hear his words tell not only the story, but with imaginative zeal, recount the inner movements of his life, makes prejudice relax, and involves the reader in a fantasy that was at one time lived and deeply felt. Be it that each successive experience, in time, becomes poetic, or that the perception of our thoughts be seen through poetry, the dull aspects of life are but a mask to our feelings and lead us into paths that give semblance to lesser hours. That we may see and find something true, not about the story, but about the man, testifies, in mind, to that in which all great poets have taken part, that in writing the story or the verses of another, he sees his spirit live in the exot

Lost Poet Series: J. Hector St. John

Lost Poet Series: J. Hector St. John A poet, to whom may we call, if not in word, but of vision, seeking out the quaint simplicities of life, an observer of light and of times, not through any famous event, but through those unrecorded, at instants glowing and wavering on the faint landscape of experience? To J. Hector St. John may we attach the name of poet, though he wrote no verse; for on reading his work, and most notably his Letters , we envision the life of a poet, and ask ourselves, if but for a moment, what a man may raise himself to in nameless things. Born in 1735 at Caen, in the Normandy region of France, he grew up with the name Michel Guillaume Jean de Crèvecoeur, descending from the noble line of that family. However, his fortunes lay not in the rebellious landscapes of a revolutionary France, but in the wild and undiscovered forests of North America. There he served honourably in the French and Indian War with Montcalm, eventually rising to the rank of lieu