Covenant College - Tartan Yearbook (Lookout Mountain, GA)

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6lThistle is a motif and it is a tool for use the figure ofUlysses, which expression. For instance, I have is a well known mythological some poetry on Ulysses and I figure, to speak of certain Ulysses beneath the cliffs I That rough bark being cast upon the sea And the warriors tired of war Straining for home No foreign land or strange beauty Could turn them from their native shore. Circe had only magic And what did she know of their true souls Being a sorceress Being a woman? No perfume fnot even the lotusj Could hold those tempered by death From their final mission As homeward was their last earthly heaven Or make their minds, fevered with one Obsession, to turn and forget. But was their leaderls quick mind Snatched from them for a moment On the murderous rocks Beneath the singing, Themselves being saved by wax? And being the coast of Ionia Did he doubt for a moment And think of the face that profaned all beauty forever And turned the women of lllium to shame? Did he hear for a moment the song That, being a consuming beauty Leading to death upon thejagged cliffs, Spun for his heart and lost? Was he staggered by that face And dizzied by that song And perhaps, before his wife's patient arms Could soothe the madness Did he wish that in that moment he had torn the lashings Broken the bonds, flown from the heaving deck And flung himself on the cliffs drowning in the song? While the others beat the oars to safety Blind, deaf and dumb never speaking When later asked why their master did not return to his home. existential themes. This imme- diately puts the poem in some kind of context.'I don't have to spend a lot of time on charac- terization. I have the type of man just by saying the name. I don't have to build a whole new character. Can you see any other problems in the way in which Christian's view poetry? Well, the other thing in Christian poetry that you don't see too much of, it appears to me, is that you don't get a lot of honesty. Christians write poetry when they're happy or when they're sad but not so much when they're reflective. And they always feel that they have to put a Christian moral on it. Very few of my poems could somebody pick up and say, Oh, this guy's a Christian. However, I think that if 25 of my poems, say, were read to- gether it could be seen that I was tending in that direction. I don't feel that I have to tack a moral on the end. I believe that if I want to speak of hatred and I have felt hatred in my heart then I'll write about hatred and I don't feel the urge to give any Christian moralizing about it. If I want to talk about romantic love I talk about romantic love. To me one of the major calls of the Christian poet is to be honest. And hopefully through my poetry people will see an imperfect person, but a person who has a commitment to something higher than himself which, of course, explicitly is to God and Christianity.

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October! 5 A glimp e of local color The National Society of Arts and Letters, an organization for the purpose of encouraging young artists, recently honored a Covenant student. A local chap- ter of the society which meets in Birmingham, Alabama extend- ed an invitation to Barber Bancroft to give a recitation of his poetry on October 21. The society was impressed with the quality of Barber's work and asked him to return in 1978 when their emphasis will be on poetry. In order to give exposure to some of his poetry and his thoughts on poetry to the Covenant community, literary editor Steve Morton interviewed Mr. Bancroft. What is the poetis purpose in writing? Well, of course, the thing that one comes up against again and again is that one of the major concerns of the poet is to com- municate. When you decide you want to communicate you have to, to a certain degree, pick your audience and pick your level. The themes which you want to discuss many times eliminate a certain type of people, im- mediately, just by the nature of what you want to express. What is it that a poet wishes to communicate in his poetry? The poet is trying to get the best balance possible between his subjective vision, his exis- tential vision, and the use of the object of language to convey this. To me, the tension between my subjective vision and the ob- jective tool of language is what poetry is. And so you see poets doing a lot of things that the grammarian and even the logician would frown upon. . .The reason the poet is doing this is that he is trying to portray something which is basically subjective in nature via language which is basically objective in nature. . . Also, every good poet is going to expose himself in his poetry. You've got to, I can't see any way around it, you're going to expose what type of person you are in your poetry or in your art. How is poetry communicated? Generally speaking poetry can and often does appeal to the sensual self, you have rhythms, you have patterns, you have the beauty of the sounds. This, to me, is not to be overlooked or belittled. Some critics think that that's uncivilized-or un- cultured to enjoy this aspect of poetry, but I think it has to be part of it. You have the concept that sound should echo sense and so there the distinction is blurred. You have these sounds that go together and they have meaning. Now the denotation of the words apply to the intellect, therefore we can get propositions out of poetry. On the other hand the connotations that aword may assume socially and cul- turally, literarily or just for an individual will help to apply that point to the individual's emotions or heart, feelings or whatever you want to call that area which experiences the sub- jective. So here we have the unifying of somebody, he is asked to respond as a whole. What do you think of that poetry which is generally ac- cepted as Christianpoetry? I see a lot oftpeople writing very sentimental things about their conversions or something like that. I would never go so far as to say that these lines do not mean anything to those individuals. The question is whether those lines mean any- thing to anybody else or draw upon anything especially creative or bring a new light, or say something in a new way. A lot of what passes for Christian poetry, to me, would do well to go on greeting cards. Now I think we're all aware of the calibre of poetry that goes on greeting cards. . .It does seem that we as Christians should first of all seize the tools, if we're talking about poetry, which can be afforded by the Christian: obscurity, metaphor, simile, analogy and literary ref- erence, for instance. How do you view the use of lit- erary reference in poetry, seeing that some Christians have prob- lems with this? Something that has always horrified me is when you have a writer like Milton making mythological reference after mythological reference and somebody will say, If he's making all these mythological references how is that that he's a Christian poet? The an- swer is simply that mythology

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Cease you hindrance, you hateful summer with spiteful greens and light. Let poor winter send the haughty sun to his farther palace of deeper night. Sweep your warmer sons Aeolus to a distant place And summon your hoary headed child from the freezing fields of space To sing the dirge for fecundity and verdant life. Embrace me with a frosty kiss on this forehead marked by strife. Come, O Winter, take away all promises of rebirth- Promise me brighter stars, Promise me barren earth, Promise me my Nepenthe, Promise me my Lethe, Promise me these things, for I would forget My painful fertile days, Heady summer and springtime's tiresome ways. Octoberl7 The round hollow of the moon's blind eye Filled my mind and troubled my sleep. I was touched by all her pale fingers. My cheek flushed and hair tossed as she caressed To feel and to know he, who had so long Gazed adoringly upon her. But as she touched and breathed into my forehead I saw she was a young girl. Her eyes seemed fixed on a deeper place in the heaven's field. Upon seeing her, I slowly began to yield To her urgent silences. She laughed a foreign laughter and drew Her pallid body to me. We sang all night to one another. I plucked moon blossoms for her But she could not see. I fell at her feet in tears. The round hollow of the moon's blind eye Filled my mind And we ride the sky-tides together. We laugh a foreign laughter and feast on blossoms of light And sing to the earth that we are blind. Diana shot her curved bow Amidst mad moonlight Beneath dark shadows. Beyond the trivial path The mute field Held with moist hands a tunic And the moon mirrored by th As the waters enveloped One who knew power, Pale light and silence. The night so easily won The heart so easily won From behind the vinessfallen From the trees, wisteria. Was he willing, was he willing For the hounds to blindly do their killing? And then was he satisfied with sleep? And was he carried over the sacred stream? Was he dead or Merely sleeping Almost touching, Almost dreaming? e pool shattered