Review of Duane Vorhees' book , Love's Autobiography : The Ends of Love
Review of Love's autobiography: The Ends of Love
Poet: Duane Vorhees
Hawakal Publishers , Kolkata, 2018
price NR 250
pp 65
Poet: Duane Vorhees
Hawakal Publishers , Kolkata, 2018
price NR 250
pp 65
Duane Vorhees is one poet whom I
admire a lot, and one can learn a lot from his unique and innovative poetic
offerings. This sleek book ‘The Many
Loves of Duane Vorhees” is
packed with notes of love, [also unrequited love], idealism and skepticism, longings,
rejuvenated vigor, yearnings, nostalgia, desires, and tongue- in -cheek- humor.
It is a book which makes one grin, giggle and guffaw, and also makes one think,
rethink and mull over certain things.
While going through the poems, I wondered, how a poet could talk in so many voices. There is a euphonious simultaneity in his multi- hued verse. You can almost see and touch the passions pulsating and emotions throbbing as you read poem after exquisite poem.
While going through the poems, I wondered, how a poet could talk in so many voices. There is a euphonious simultaneity in his multi- hued verse. You can almost see and touch the passions pulsating and emotions throbbing as you read poem after exquisite poem.
I was absolutely captivated by the internal rhyme in ANOTHER SPRING NIGHT IN FARMERSVILLE, OHIO;
'The sun is a gong hung low across the sky.
windswept. earthdirty. sunwhipped: farmers wait inside
their bones
for the horizon to rise and beat the daylights out of the
sun
and call them from their long dungrows for a night.' [ long dungrwos, hung low , song sung slow , a thong - strung- bow, strong gungho....]
'The sun is a gong hung low across the sky.
windswept. earthdirty. sunwhipped: farmers wait inside
their bones
for the horizon to rise and beat the daylights out of the
sun
and call them from their long dungrows for a night.' [ long dungrwos, hung low , song sung slow , a thong - strung- bow, strong gungho....]
Another of my favorites in the
collection is, the wonderfully crafted prose –poem , JENNIFER IN TWO VOICES
I found myself humming this refrain [“I know why the sky sings the blues — for you, Jenny, for you – atmosphere breaks down and cries.”] long after I had finished reading the book .
I found myself humming this refrain [“I know why the sky sings the blues — for you, Jenny, for you – atmosphere breaks down and cries.”] long after I had finished reading the book .
The poem ‘Without you Beth
My Life’ , is such a heart- wrenching poem that it left me with a tingling sensation in my eyes, and I kept going back to it again and again.
‘Death. Abyss-dropped coffin.
Everyone wept. Someone mumbled a little Donne.
Then they handed round the shovels.
(An egg unhatched:
without you Beth my life's another burial ground.)’
Such poignant words which leave an everlasting impact. The imagery in the poem is stunning and one finds oneself unconsciously drawn into a little self- introspection as the words and their meanings slowly unfold.
Ah, yes, I was so carried away by the rhythmic cadences of ‘Montana Motel’ that I inadvertently found myself singing the song and later, even recorded it.
My Life’ , is such a heart- wrenching poem that it left me with a tingling sensation in my eyes, and I kept going back to it again and again.
‘Death. Abyss-dropped coffin.
Everyone wept. Someone mumbled a little Donne.
Then they handed round the shovels.
(An egg unhatched:
without you Beth my life's another burial ground.)’
Such poignant words which leave an everlasting impact. The imagery in the poem is stunning and one finds oneself unconsciously drawn into a little self- introspection as the words and their meanings slowly unfold.
Ah, yes, I was so carried away by the rhythmic cadences of ‘Montana Motel’ that I inadvertently found myself singing the song and later, even recorded it.
‘Come lay your body down close next to mine.
Sure, yes I’m sure, your husband won’t mind.
Sure, yes I’m sure, your husband won’t mind.
Sure, yes I’m sure. . . Sure, yes I’m sure. . .”
Sure, yes I’m sure, your husband won’t mind.
Sure, yes I’m sure. . . Sure, yes I’m sure. . .”
DON’T GET ME WRONG
‘Despite all these eons of
together, you still want me to write you poems?
Okay: “the stars: scattershot across the purple night / like bird shit on velvet”
Don’t like it? Terribly sorry.
This lack of sweet poetry, can you forgive?
Okay: “the stars: scattershot across the purple night / like bird shit on velvet”
Don’t like it? Terribly sorry.
This lack of sweet poetry, can you forgive?
The first stanza brought a smile
of wry amusement to my face. By the end
of the poem, the smile remained, but the texture of the smile had changed.
‘but your embrace remains a
comforter in the cold winter nights
and the scenery's quite nice still.”
There is nothing hackneyed about his poems, every poem falls in a different category altogether, multi- nuanced and multi- layered. Some of the poems are thick with innuendoes, which, made a prude like me, almost blush. But, yes, I kept going back to the poem to find out whether he really meant what I thought he meant.
What versatile creativity! This is a book not to be missed at any cost. Spectacular in imagery, rich in metaphor, truly a masterpiece, you want to go back to again and again.
and the scenery's quite nice still.”
There is nothing hackneyed about his poems, every poem falls in a different category altogether, multi- nuanced and multi- layered. Some of the poems are thick with innuendoes, which, made a prude like me, almost blush. But, yes, I kept going back to the poem to find out whether he really meant what I thought he meant.
What versatile creativity! This is a book not to be missed at any cost. Spectacular in imagery, rich in metaphor, truly a masterpiece, you want to go back to again and again.
Comments
Post a Comment