The Sandbag Times Issue No: 45

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows
how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
Whilst not everyone will subscribe to the theology
of this poem, its technical features are
striking. In the first instance, it is clearly the
work of a writer who has done his time as a
poetic apprentice and has reached the point of
technical mastery to the point of being innovatory.
Hopkins wrote in his journal, ‘the effect of
works of genius is to make me admire and do
otherwise’ and in this poem, a curtal sonnet, a
version of the form he invented, we do indeed
see Hopkins doing otherwise. He reduces the
standard fourteen lines of the Italian or petrarchan
sonnet to ten and a half lines, whilst
maintaining the same proportions of the standard
form. The compact container of the curtal
sonnet is suited ot the purpose of giving us the
sense of all things being crammed in to the
world, the plenitude of being. The alliteration,
assonance and rhyme deployed in the poem
link the disparate facets of the world in one
unifying principle which, for Hopkins, is God.
Hopkins was always at pains to arrive at the
essence of things, their ‘inscape. In a letter to
his friend, Robert Bridges (Poet Laureate1913-
1930), he wrote, ‘...design, pattern or what I
am in the habit of calling inscape is what I
above all aim at in poetry.’ Pied Beauty certainly
fulfils the poets aim through its careful
design and patterning. A lot more that can be
said about this poem; it serves as an example
of how a great deal can be expressed in a
short form.
Keeping apprenticeship firmly in mind, it is a
pleasure to include a poem by Hannah
Searson who, at the age of fifteen, has successfully
combined free verse with an element
of refrain and repetition to address what is a
very difficult subject. Well done, Hannah.
To our minds
To our bodies
To the lies we tell ourselves
To our souls
To our hearts
To our thoughts that are kept on dusty bookshelves
In for four
Hold for seven
Out for eight
In for four
Hold for seven
Out for eight
In for four
Hold for seven
Out for eight
In for...
It just doesn’t work
It just keeps on like an endless cycle
Our minds constantly go berserk
It’s an endless recital
It’s a constant battle
It’s a never ending race
Our crooked mind lets out it’s sick cackle
And then we’re gone without a trace
And just like that
We slip into darkness
Forever waiting for that light
Until our hope falls flat
But regardless
We’re stuck in a never ending headlight
Of doubt
Of fear
Of all that put us down
In for four
Hold for seven
Out for eight
Maybe just Maybe it may work today.
Hannah Searson (15)
Breathe
In for four
Hold for seven
Out for eight
In for four
Hold for seven
Out for eight
That’s what they teach us
That’s what we get taught
When we break down
And don’t know what to do anymore
We get told that same ritual
We get shown that same thing
that’s unintelligible
Win This Fantastic Title
This unusual and beautiful book collects together twenty
five of the often read, well-loved poets. Each
poet is illustrated with an original watercolor
portrait by the talented young artist,
Charlotte Zeepvat, who reproduces in
pleasing script one of their works, giving a
biographical summary that placed the poet
firmly in the battlefield context in which
their work was conceived.
To have a chance at winning this
fabulous book, simply email your
poetry to:
mike@sandbagtimes.com
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