I came across a poem and was blown away by its beauty. I am seriously jealous of the talent behind this gem.
The poem is by Maureen Hynes, who has won the League of Canadian Poets’ Gerald Lampert Award for best first book of poetry by a Canadian. Her work has been widely published in Canadian journals and anthologies, included in Best Canadian Poems 2010 and longlisted for the CBC Canada Reads 2013 poetry award. Maureen is poetry editor for Our Times magazine.
Okay, I thought I’d do something different. THIS WAS INSPIRED BY ROY.
I keep hearing from some: teach me, I want to learn, show me, I don’t understand, I don’t see what the heck you’re talking about, I don’t get it, I want to get it, I don’t think I’ll ever get it, I can't possibly ever in a thousand years read a poem like that and get it.
SO... I am going to post the poem and then open its chest, pull out its heart and present it to you, still beating, on a platter.
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(poem posted for educational purposes only)
Overtime in the Scriptorium
by Maureen Hynes
layered and hooded she smoothes out
calfskin vellum sets pots of verdigris
red and yellow ochre in reach
lapis gold powder silver leaf
outlines the first black letters
in a folio of tall script turf fire smoking
the work but her fingers never
warm enough a lifetime on a high stool
at a sloped table outside the margins
of illumination and inside knots
of that hunger she writes tower
blackbird sand dune and fever
sleep she writes in an alphabet of trees
paints wings on men snakes her letters
into saints and insects lightning magpie
coils her Latin into small animals
and open-mouthed fish traces
a rusty path out her winter window
the empty stool beside her
Interpretation and study
This is a poem about scriptorium (works or a place of illustrated/illuminated text/calligraphy) and is written in the point of view of a nun (perhaps)
A nun’s work in the 14th and 15th century would seem to have no beginning nor end. She would have spent long hours illustrating letters as a act of piety; all is done as labour of love for God and for His son. It is work which was done alone, strained the eyes and hands and back. It was also a dying art, even in the 15th century, as printing presses had been invented.
Here are two examples of what nuns and monks would have crafted:
Now, knowing this, let’s really dissect this work.
layered and hooded she smoothes out
calfskin vellum sets pots of verdigris
red and yellow ochre in reach
Note the lowercase ‘l’ in layered; its use signifies that this is truly NOT the beginning. The beginning of this poem will never be seen because this poem actually starts at the moment when the nun first picked up her tools, all those decades earlier.
The poet has wisely chosen to start the poem as if we have missed something.
There are no uppercase letters in this poem. Not a one. This is brilliant IRONY, since the nun would have spent arduous hours illustrating UPPERCASE letters. Furthermore, the use of lowercase letters gives a sense of humbleness, of submissiveness.
Good use of spacing illustrates (lovely irony) how the nun kept her paints close yet apart; one would think that a nun feels a special closeness to mankind, yet insulated from most of humanity, especially the cloistered nun.
The three line stanzas keep the poem’s flow. Each line (save for the last) is of equal importance. The purpose of keeping each stanza the same length is to force the reader to weigh EACH word. Internal spacing replaces free style line breaks.
lapis gold powder silver leaf
outlines the first black letters
in a folio of tall script turf fire smoking
the work but her fingers never
warm enough a lifetime on a high stool
at a sloped table outside the margins
of illumination and inside knots
of that hunger she writes tower
blackbird sand dune and fever
Love the juxtaposition of outline and outside versus inside. SHE is the tower blackbird, wearing her black habit, roosting in a small room with a desk and her nest of writing tools. Sand dunes ... all those sand dunes found in a Holy land she will never see.
Again, note the careful use of spacing. All her equipment has been placed just so. There is space between script (holy work) and turf (earthly material) Work is hers, but not truly hers. What she does is for others. The space between the work and her fingers is “divine!”
The spaces between writes tower sand drives home the distance between herself and others, as well as signifies a passing of time.
sleep she writes in an alphabet of trees
paints wings on men snakes her letters
into saints and insects lightning magpie
coils her Latin into small animals
and open-mouthed fish traces
a rusty path out her winter window
Oh, the contrast of this line “paints wings on men snakes her letters” angels and serpents. Art, that! And the space between angels and serpent? SHAZAM! Magic!
We get a sense of complete seclusion, of longing, as she traces a path with paint. She is alone and quiet as she works, painting a fish with an open mouth. The fish was also one of the first symbols of Christianity. Interesting connation with open-mouthed...
Also, the spacing (in lieu of punctuation) is sophisticated, and shows poetic maturity. Seasoned poets tend to break their lines creatively, directing the reader, slowing and quickening the pace with technique and style.
The purpose of poetry is not only to communicate, I believe, but to startle and intrigue, to move the reader with language and to allow the reader to see something in a new light. Poetry (again, my opinion) should either disturb or tantalize, tickle the funny bone or torment the heart. It can make one nostalgic, sick to the stomach or lead to activism.
And the last line ...
the empty stool beside her
Okay, this is beautiful ambiguity. What a statement.
Is it empty because fewer nuns have committed themselves to completing scriptorium? Does the empty stool represent one less woman who has chosen to be a nun? Does the empty stool represent Christ, who is there with her in Spirit, a physical reminder of her purpose and the sacred vow she took as one who illuminates copies of the Bible? We are not sure. The interpretation is left to us.
Okay, so now let’s take a closer look at some of the word choices.
The verse is rich in assonance, consonance and euphony.
Many poets (I include myself in those numbers), would classify this as a rhyming poem, (I’ll discuss this more at a later date). There is a great deal of both internal and external rhyme used.
Okay, let’s take a close look at some of the rhyme. I’ve used colours and bold font to show alike sounds (the purple in li, fi, hi, wri and pie doesn't show very well, but is there)
layered and hooded she smoothes out
calfskin vellum sets pots of verdigris
red and yellow ochre in reach
lapis gold powder silver leaf
outlines the first black letters
in a folio of tall script turf fire smoking
the work but her fingers never
warm enough a lifetime on a high stool
at a sloped table outside the margins
of illumination and inside knots
of that hunger she writes tower
blackbird sand dune and fever
sleep she writes in an alphabet of trees
paints wings on men snakes her letters
into saints and insects lightning magpie
coils her Latin into small animals
and open-mouthed fish traces
a rusty path out her winter window
the empty stool beside her
I also have to say that a favourite line of mine is “snakes her letters/
into saints and insect lightening magpie.”
there is wonderful ‘mouth music’ here. (in ... SAINTS... in SECTS ... )soooooooooooo good!
So, please, let me know if I have missed anything.
What do you see?
PS... if you like this blog, I’d be happy to post others of this nature.
xoxox
Cyndi
If you have something to add
or you interpret the imagery differently,
I encourage you
to share YOUR interpretation.
I would love to see things
from YOUR EYES!
Let's learn together!
_________________________
I wish to thank Maureen Hynes for her support of this blog and for encouraging my love of poetic exploration. I am in float mode, still, over her kindness.
I also wish to thank the curators of Canadian Poetries, Shawna Lemay and Kimmy Beach, who have been following this discussion, I have just learned. I found this poem at Canadian Poetries.
Canadian Poetries showcases the new and recent work of a wide range of established poetic voices.
Here is a link to their site and to two more of Maureen Hynes poems.
http://www.canadianpoetries.com/poetries/2014/9/2/maureen-hynes-three-poems