Friendly Discussion

I always feel a twinge of wounded pride,

A slight sharp pain of anger and offense,

When somebody dispraises Dylan Thomas.


His poems were my Bible at sixteen:

He taught me that anything could be done

Within the frame of the ten-syllable line.


(I think of him, weirdly, as family:

A year before she died, his daughter came

To Harvard Square and read her own poetry.


I missed the reading. When I found Aeronwy

On YouTube, at the very first word she spoke,

I started weeping, mourning the lost chance.)


And now I see the respectable Mr McClatchy

Has called the work of Dylan Thomas "bunkum."

Entitled to his opinion, but has old J. D.


Written a line as lasting in the mind

As Do not go gentle into that good night?

Or This sandgrain day in the bent bay’s grave?


Has he enlivened English so that passionate youth

Want to make poetry their life-work, their life-love?

No, nobody touches Dylan when I'm around


Or we're going to have a friendly discussion.

Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 380 times
Written on 2018-01-16 at 08:54

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I've got your back with Dylan! Do not go gentle into that good night is a favourite of mine.

And Dylan was Welsh.

The Force That Through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower... Yes, I think I'll just leave that as a doffing.

Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
I agree. I do not believe that anyone can read Milkwood and not enjoy it.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Thomas's chief crime is that he's too easy to like. Poe and Steinbeck stand similarly accused. There's not much that a fan can do. The art of poetry has become so debased that really awful poets are celebrated because those who claim to enjoy poetry have no idea what is good poetry. They've been trained to believe that willful incoherence and/or excessively descriptive,yet pointless anecdotes constitute good poetry. Anyone who has heard Thomas's roar knows that that isn't so.

jim The PoetBay support member heart!
Well expressed. What D. Thomas does for you, another Irishman (of a sort) does for me:

On the beach at Fontana

Wind whines and whines the shingle,
The crazy pierstakes groan;
A senile sea numbers each single
Slimesilvered stone.

From whining wind and colder
Grey sea I wrap him warm
And touch his trembling fine boned shoulder
And boyish arm.

Around us fear, descending
Darkness of fear above
And in my heart how deep unending
Ache of love!

óJames Joyce

ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo! Each and every poet in their way special. I listand to a very interesting talk on Samuel Taylor Coleridge epike poem Kubla Khan. Sure gave me much to mull over.