Lazy poetry month unbound
Apr. 24th, 2025 12:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Another from Poetry Unbound -- "A Portable Paradise" by Roger Robinson. It felt fitting for conversations I've been having and witnessing.
A Portable Paradise
And if I speak of Paradise,
then I'm speaking of my grandmother
who told me to carry it always
on my person, concealed, so
no one else would know but me.
That way they can't steal it, she'd say.
And if life puts you under pressure,
trace its ridges in your pocket,
smell its piney scent on your handkerchief,
hum its anthem under your breath.
And if your stresses are sustained and daily,
get yourself to an empty room - be it hotel,
hostel or hovel - find a lamp
and empty your paradise onto a desk:
your white sands, green hills and fresh fish.
Shine the lamp on it like the fresh hope
of morning, and keep staring at it till you sleep.
* * * * * *
I like Ó Tuama's commentary because he moves seamlessly between context -- the poem appears in a collection that talks about the catastrophe at Grenfell; the biography of the poet, who lives between Trinidad and England; Ó Tuama's own responses; the derivation of words ("paradise" was first a Zoroastrian word!); and the uses of poetic devices like assonance.
Here is an example of his mobility of ideas:
This might be one I choose to teach this summer.
§rf§
A Portable Paradise
And if I speak of Paradise,
then I'm speaking of my grandmother
who told me to carry it always
on my person, concealed, so
no one else would know but me.
That way they can't steal it, she'd say.
And if life puts you under pressure,
trace its ridges in your pocket,
smell its piney scent on your handkerchief,
hum its anthem under your breath.
And if your stresses are sustained and daily,
get yourself to an empty room - be it hotel,
hostel or hovel - find a lamp
and empty your paradise onto a desk:
your white sands, green hills and fresh fish.
Shine the lamp on it like the fresh hope
of morning, and keep staring at it till you sleep.
* * * * * *
I like Ó Tuama's commentary because he moves seamlessly between context -- the poem appears in a collection that talks about the catastrophe at Grenfell; the biography of the poet, who lives between Trinidad and England; Ó Tuama's own responses; the derivation of words ("paradise" was first a Zoroastrian word!); and the uses of poetic devices like assonance.
Here is an example of his mobility of ideas:
a poem can issue many invitations, particularly invitations to identify with a character. A person might identify with the speaking voice of this poem, or with the grandmother. Someone might read something and see their lives open. In bringing my full self to read Roger Robinson's poem, I want to honour the part of me that's suffered, but I can't pretend I'm ever going to read this poem as anything other than a white man. Therefore, I ask myself what behaviours I've been part of that have taken other people's paradises, requiring them to seek shelter from me.
This might be one I choose to teach this summer.
§rf§
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