The Light and other Collected Poems

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Weed, the great time-waster, provided a fortuitous exception to the rule, an exception that remains vivid to this day. It was a weekend in the winter of sophomore year.

I had gotten stoned, gotten introspective and had wandered off to a lounge on north campus, leaving my partying friends. Not being sleepy, not liking my typically self-critical thoughts, I had prudentially grabbed a book, Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas. Normally, under the influence, reading wasn't easy.

Printed words played like eels in shifting, shallow waters. Reading was slow going, distractive, the mind going hither and yon much like the eels. But I had never tried poetry before. To focus, and because his style so obviously demands vocalization, I read the poems aloud, sittling there alone on an ugly couch in an ugly lounge.

They were beautiful, impressive. I read a poem, got the concept, the pattern, and read it again, better, with understanding, with proper emphasis. I did my best with what I imagined to be a Welch accent, an imitation of his voice from "A Child's Christmas in Wales" which Father had listened to yearly. Certain of the critical faculties being shot, it sounded pretty good. It was quite enjoyable, baroquely enriching. I forgot to be depressed, staying up the night with the music of Dylan Thomas. Feb 12, Matt rated it really liked it Shelves: Just a master of sheer language. His poetry works on your inner consciousness, you feel it and hear it before you think it.

Untangling his syntax and his associations makes for some interesting reading all its own. His name meant "wave", as in the ocean, in Welsh. Imagine this simmering stew, this cauldron if you will, and you've got yourself something rich, evocative, stormy, and powerful. It's the goshdarn lifeforce in Just a master of sheer language. It's the goshdarn lifeforce incarnate. Go to the smaller, more obscure poems first. Get yourself tied up in the bog water of his preoccupations before you read the stuff that's more plainspoken.

And there's that rich history of pseudo-gaelic that makes the language edible and raw and bone-blunt. I can't say enough about this guy, he's held me in rapture for years. I can't even focus on it too well since he is so visceral and obscure in all the best ways. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not "Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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The sad truth is that the Welsh word wizard failed to rock my boat. I appreciated the lilting rhythms, the clever imagery, the brilliantly innovative use of words, the alliterative genius… all that. But I struggled to find meanings. But there were all the other inaccessible would-be gems, which left me cold. I hope I can find an audio version of the collected poems. Apr 29, Greg rated it really liked it Shelves: How do you criticize a volume of poetry such as this?

These are not ideas, these are words, formed together, which create ideas reflexively. The language is psychedelic, romantic, beautiful, paradoxical, mesmerizing. I love the opening stanzas of Fern Hill: Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes, And honored among wagons I was prince of How do you criticize a volume of poetry such as this?

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes, And honored among wagons I was prince of the apple towns, And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves Trail with daisies and barley Down the rivers of the windfall light.

But seasons must be challenged or they totter Into a chiming quarter Where, punctual as death, we ring the stars; There, in his night, the black-tongued bells The sleepy man of winter pulls, Nor blows back mon-and-midnight as she blows. I suspect that, as with most prophetic words, one sees in them the ideas one wants to see, and the words give shape to nascent vision between every set of ears reading the wonderful lines. Jun 15, Chris rated it it was ok. I tried to like it. God knows how hard I tried. The first half of the book was much more comprehensible than the last.

The poems I did understand were absolutely amazing, which makes me think I'm just missing out on the poems I can't understand. Much of his stuff really seems like a word game to him. He toys with the meanings and sounds of words, actually calling himself in a letter to a friend "a freak user of words. I feel like I could have progressed much farther with someone to help me through it. I hate giving a low rating to a book that I think has a lot of potential, but I have to be honest and say that it fell short of really moving me. I'm stuck with the question, "Was only part of it brilliant, or am I unable to keep up?

Maybe some of you Dylan Thomas fans out there can give me some direction. View all 3 comments. Jul 29, Donovan Richards rated it it was amazing. An iconic rock formation in the Cascade foothills, it is an easily identified landmark signifying entrance into the mountains through Interstate But recognition is a different phenomenon than true experience.

For me, this same principle applies to Dylan Thomas. Death, it seems, functions as the endpoint, the conclusion of narrative. Thomas often leans on the symmetry of life and death and the lengths to which humanity operates in avoidance of that final act. Here, it almost seems as if Thomas searches for beginnings hoping that the new will always push aside the inevitable demise of the human being. The reader feels the resolute spirit of Thomas often during Collected Poems. While death plays a central role in all of life, it will not govern us.

Half-light: Collected Poems 1965-2016

For this reason, Thomas always seems caught in the middle between an obsession with the end and the fight to not let the end influence the present. Often, the takeaway line—the most intriguing and artistic line intended to be exceptionally quotable—occurs at the conclusion of the poem. Each preceding line sets up the final point with gravitas. Not so with Thomas.

His takeaway line occurs at the beginning, with expansion on the line building out from stanza to stanza. Much like my trip to Mt. Si, reading Collected Poems gave me a better understanding of an author I thought I knew. Collected Poems affirms my thoughts on Dylan Thomas as a premier poet and I am glad to see his body of work is consistently good. If you are like me and you know of Dylan Thomas, bite the bullet and read Collected Poems. Originally published at http: Where I began writing, during a fine undergrad English major.

Collected Poems by Dylan Thomas

I memorized a half hour of DT, not that easy, for Fern Hill has half lines where the mind can skip forward to a similar half-line. I was shocked to see Fern Hill the farm in town, on a knoll a hundred yards above the old square. I volunteered to recite some DT at his cottage, now a teahouse.

No go, "But you can recite some of his poems. Oct 06, Elizabeth rated it it was amazing. Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not g Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Jan 24, Eslam Mohammed rated it really liked it Shelves: Bernard "Michael Chaine"kept repeating these lines,of one of the remarkable poems of the heavenly-gifted poet Dylan Thomas: Jul 04, Charles Levenstein rated it it was amazing Shelves: Jun 26, Jacqueline rated it it was amazing Shelves: The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury.

By the sea's side hear the dark-vowelled birds. Joy is the knock of dust, Cadaver's shoot Of bud of Adam through his boxy shift, Love's twilit nation and the skull of state, Sir, is your doom. What's never known is safest in this life. Hands of the stranger and holds of the ships, Hold you poison or grapes? The five kings count the dead but do not soften The crusted wound nor pat the brow; A hand rules pity as a hand rules heaven; Hands have no tears to flow.

I have heard may years of telling, And many years should see some change. The ball I threw while playing in the park Has not yet reached the ground. My nostrils see her breath burn like a bush. And death shall have no dominion. No more may gulls cry at their ears Or waves break loud on the seashores; Where blew a flower may a flower no more Lift its head to the blows of the rain; Though they be mad and dead as nails, Heads of the characters hammer through daisies; Break in the sun till the sun breaks down, And death shall have no dominion.

Lie dry, rest robbed, my beast. You have kicked from a dark den, leaped up the whinnying light, And dug your grave in my breast. And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last I may without fail Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars. Most of Dylan Thomas poems were for me difficult to make heads or tails. A poem which is powerful and resonates. I also liked many others such as Fern Hill and Altarwise by owl-light. Here's a favorite from this amazing, challenging, inspiring collection, the title poem, "Half-Light": We lay in parallel furrows.

Jim, yesterday I heard your wife on the phone tell me you died almost nine months ago. Jim, now we cannot ever. Bitter that we cannot ever have the conversation that in nature and alive we never had. We have not spoken in years. When I tell you that all the years we were undergraduates I was madly in love with you you say you knew. I say I knew you knew.

You say There was no place in nature we could meet. You say this as if you need me to admit something. No place in nature, given our natures. Or is this warning? I say what is happening now is happening only because one of us is dead. You laugh and say, Or both of us! Our words will be weirdly jolly. That light I now envy exists only on this page. Dec 11, Christopher rated it really liked it Shelves: Being only a recent neophyte to poetry, I only heard about this collection because it won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize this past year.

Having now finished reading this wonderful collection, there is no mystery in my mind as to why it was chosen. This is an astounding collection that readers both new and old to the genre can enjoy. And this is true of both his short and long poems. Until now, I had no Being only a recent neophyte to poetry, I only heard about this collection because it won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize this past year.

Until now, I had not read a poet who could hold my attention in both the long and short form. Usually they are good at one, but lousy at the other. Bidart is excellent at both. These poems in particular, and all of his poems in general, are meditations on history, mythology, family, and sexuality and the legacy they leave us.

Some of his poems are bit explicit in their sexuality, including homosexuality, so less mature readers may want to wait before picking this book up.

But this is also one of Mr. He is open and vulnerable about his own family and sexuality, but he never loses the plot of his poems in mindless meditations. This was a great read and I recommend it to all of my poetry friends. May 18, Abby N Lewis rated it really liked it Shelves: I loved this collection, but it definitely requires the sort of attention that stems from a mind that is content and a body well fed and rested.

That being said, I still loved it. I started to read the first poem, "To the Dead," and I found I couldn't finish reading the poem--I had to stop, go back to the beginning, and read it aloud. It was the sort of poem that demands that kind of attention. By the time I had finished reading the poem aloud, I was crying. From there, I knew I had to keep read I loved this collection, but it definitely requires the sort of attention that stems from a mind that is content and a body well fed and rested.

From there, I knew I had to keep reading while reading aloud as often as possible. In the interviews in the back of the collection, Bidart talks about his struggle to put the "voice" correctly on the page in a poem. But in my mind, the fact that I felt compelled to read each poem aloud because of the way it appeared on the page--to me, that meant Bidart had succeeded in getting each voice across to his reader. May 28, Elise rated it it was ok.

Sep 08, Heather Lake rated it liked it. This collection was a bit of a struggle for me to get through. I think the latter poems did strike a better balance at this, but again, just not my cup of tea. Jun 03, Jim Manis rated it really liked it Shelves: I was a third of the way through this book when the Pulitzer's were announced and sparked the argument about whether such prizes should be awarded to such collections or for shorter, more traditional works of poetry. I understand the arguments for both cases, but frankly can't decide which should outweigh the other.

I like Bidart's longer poems. The shorter ones seem too much like what everyone else has written over the past half century. The three interviews at the end of the book are worth read I was a third of the way through this book when the Pulitzer's were announced and sparked the argument about whether such prizes should be awarded to such collections or for shorter, more traditional works of poetry.

The three interviews at the end of the book are worth reading. Half Light-collected Poems 24 Items found. Low to High Price: High to Low New Arrivals. Xlibris Corporation 1 Show All. Half of the World in Light: New and Selected Poems Collected Poems Collected Poems by Joshua Ruebl - Paperback In the Mellow Light: A Collection of Poems on Being and Loving A Collection of Poems to the Glory of Life Half Full, or Half Empty?: A Collection of Poems

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