Publisher Craig Potton has launched a competition to find out what New Zealanders 'best-loved' poems are.
"Two, four, six, eight, dig in, don't wait." doesn't count.
Not surprisingly Kipling's 'If' is among the top contenders. According to the spin it is tussling with 'Rain' by by Hone Tuwhare. Not much of a death match, considering that only four people in the world have even heard of 'Rain' by Hone Tuwhare. Or Hone Tuwhare. Remind me to look it/him up.
You might think I am being flippant but I'm not...really. Let's faced it. Poetry is not a national obsession. When I lived in the UK during the mid 90s a similar populist take on poetry was run. 'If' won - hands down.
When you ask a general audience for their preferences they fall a) go with a brand they know. Who's heard of W.H. Auden? O.K. Kipling...rightyo....and b) is it sentimental? That, in simple terms is what most of us like in poetry. Silly, romantic and nostalgic material will win hands down.
To be relevant we should consider lyricists like Dave Dobbyn and Tim Finn on the roster of our poets. Loyal would ace If any day of the week.
If
by Rudyard Kipling
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son! |
Four Seasons in One day
by Tim Finn
Four seasons in one day
Lying in the depths of your imagination
Worlds above and worlds below
The sun shines on the black clouds hanging over the domain
Even when youre feeling warm
The temperature could drop away
Like four seasons in one day
Smiling as the shit comes down
You can tell a man from what he has to say
Everything gets turned around
And I will risk my neck again, again
You can take me where you will
Up the creek and through the mill
All the things you cant explain
Four seasons in one day
Blood dries up
Like rain, like rain
Fills my cup
Like four seasons in one day
It doesnt pay to make predictions
Sleeping on an unmade bed
Finding out wherever there is comfort there is pain
Only one step away
Like four seasons in one day
Blood dries up
Like rain, like rain
Fills my cup
Like four seasons in one day |
My vote goes to....
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