[Comments from the Poet, crypticbard, inspired this poem]
You taught me that a soul, like Poetry,
could indwell physical monstrosity
(which is how I, in those days, viewed myself).
Each time I took your novel from its shelf,
I felt as though you spoke, through it, to me.
No classmates' bullying and cruelty
stifled your novel's verbal clarity.
During four years of University,
I learned much more about you and your writings,
nor gave in to some scholars' narrowed slightings
And now, decades after my time at college,
I have heard scientists soundly acknowledge
the wisdom that you placed in the design
of your tales---The Last Man, and Frankenstein.
J-Called
[*/+/^]
Author's Notes/Comments:
My sincere thanks to crypticbard, whose words in a comment inspired this poem.
The tenth line alludes to a controversy I caused within the History Department in the spring of 1978 (my sophomore year). Part of the requirements for graduation with the BA degree were the Senior Thesis and the Sophomore Project (and this was universal in all of the academic departments). In the History Department, the Sophomore Project was the compilation of at least one hundred index cards (in those days before the internet), written in acceptable bibliographic format, which presented various monographs and scholarly articles regarding a chosen subject. My chosen subject was the changing critical response to Mary Shelley's novel, Frankenstein, from its publication in 1818 through the present (which was 1978)---one hundred sixty years. As soon as I announced my subject, I was taken aside, by various professors and seniors in the department, and advised to seek a more amenable topic for my research. This aggravated me because the terms of the project had been presented such that any historical subject was acceptable---as long as one hundred items could be compiled upon that subject. I was advised that because Mary Shelley was out of favor with the English and Literature Departments, she was equally disqualified in the History Department. I remained adamant and refused to consider changing my choice; I refused to even discuss the choice further. As I suspected, one hundred sixty years provided more than enough monographs, scholarly articles and reviews to meet the hundred card requirement, and, out of plain spite, I stayed up late, until the Library's nighty closing (eleven p.m.) compiling my cards. When I turned them in, I was given a rather begrudging "B+" on the project. When I had my last office session with the instructor (these were also required), she pointed out to me that, in her opinion, I loved the Poetry of History, but not the processes of scholarly research. She doubted this would bode well for me in graduate school, but my parents' withdraw of funding for anything more than my four undergrad years resolved that question.
Twenty-one years after graduation, I attended a private reunion luncheon in which I learned that the controversy I had caused over Mary Shelley was still mentioned from time to time. And, greeting me after an absence of more than two decades, my faculty advisor, upon seeing me in the corridor, shouted out, "Is Mary Shelley still your girl?" And I shouted back, as loudly, "She sure is."
The last line reverses the publication of order of two of her six novels. Frankenstein was published in 1818; The Lart Man, considered by many (including Jules Verne) to have been the first science fiction novel, was published in 1826.
Perhaps an apt alternate
Perhaps an apt alternate title (on a jovial and personal level) could be something along the lines of: 'She's Still My Girl.' But that's just me. Hoping there is no offence in that remark. Thank you for sticking to your guns. That spiteful "B+" is in this reading noted and repealed. Perhaps those that espouse Method over Essence shall ever have the upper hand. But the soul of 'all things' is always its "Poetry."
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
Thank you for that comment,
Thank you for that comment, and the title suggestion. I will be changing the title immediately, and I am now even more indebted to you for inspiration in both this poem and in its title.
Starward
Just glad that you are
Just glad that you are pleased with the review process.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
Oh, most certainly. The poem
Oh, most certainly. The poem exists because of your kindness; and the title is now correct because of what you pointed out. I am very grateful to you.
Starward