I had a lot of memorabilia recently forwarded to me from Australia. That included newspaper clippings I found interesting. One such clipping is of the poem below called Wet Ghost by Chris Wallace-Crabbe. You’ll have to excuse its state of disrepair, but it has traveled many miles to be here.
For more information about the Australian poet and professor Chris Wallace-Crabbe, click on the image from Australian Poetry Library below :
Solemn, visual poem. Not one i would memorize but thoughtful.
I’m glad you thought so. I’ve never memorized a poem, not that I can recall anyhow. What about you? Cheers.
I do memorize poems, or parts of speeches. It isn’t hard, just takes a little practice.
That’s a wonderful skill to have. I always admire people who can recite poetry or parts of speeches off the top of their heads.
You might like The Man In The Arena.
Thank you. I enjoyed reading that speech by Teddy Roosevelt.
Wondrously bizarre and evocative – and rings so true. If I’m ever in a group where I have to recite a poem, I’m using this one!
I love this poem for all the reasons you mentioned. I’m glad you were similarly impressed.
This went where poems or stories don’t usually go… Very interesting subject and I have to wonder what inspired it. Totally original…this is awesome.
It’s highly unusual isn’t it, but so poignant. For such an apparently ugly image to be given such rich context, it can make you see the beauty in almost anything. I’m going to read more from Chris Wallace-Crabbe in the coming weeks and see if I can find what inspired it.
Yes, it is unusual and that is the reason I like it.
Although sometimes I have to fight with the translator to give me a version close to writing, this poem is really very good. I enjoyed it a lot. With your help, I extend my readings of authors I don’t know. Thanks for that opportunity
Yo acabe de traducir este poema por una amiga aca. Se quedó un linea que no lo pude traducir bien: ‘Ni disparos ni el gradual’. Abajo es el poema completo:
El viejo caballo, lo era
cayó muerto, se deslizó en la presa
donde flotaba tan quieto como puede ser
En forma de un país europeo
durante meses y meses
Patos encaramados encima
Hierba verde brillante
barbudo el hocico
de su persistencia marrón,
Ni disparos ni el gradual
podría llegar a abolir
esa extraña isla orgánica:
lo suscribió el dios
como un autor cómico;
pero un día se llegó a la orilla
luego cayó en pedazos
de manera normal, un archipiélago mortal
Sin lugar a dudas que el poema es muy bueno. Me gusta el estilo y la forma de los versos. Gracias por tu a alisad de compartirlo. Un abrazo.
I like what you say above, that such ugly images can also be beautiful. So true. I love the lines “It underwrote god as a comic author” “a mortal archipelago”
A read a short story a long time ago about a girl who went to a beach party and didn’t fit in with anyone and wandered off and in the rocks she found a little boy who’d obviously fallen in, his foot caught, floating facedown in the water. And that’s how the story ended, with her observation of this as “the one beauty and the one truth,” or something like that.
Very strange, but oddly resonating.
I suppose like just about anyone else I have read a lot of poems in my life, but few resonate with me as much as ‘Wet Ghost’. I’m glad you liked my description. Those parts you highlighted I also love.
I would like to read that short story you described. Where did you come across that?
I know, I would love to read it too! But I read it over 25 years ago and don’t even remember the author’s name, sadly. 😦