There is a new poetry anthology being launched in April. It is called, Poems That Make Grown Men Cry and the clamour for bragging rights by the contributors is extraordinary. And they are all there, from Daniel Radcliffe to Simon Schama. Isn't it extraordinary, you have to get them together like a rugby team before they can come out of the emotional closet and the rest of us are supposed to buy it in empathy... well perhaps I am being a little unfair, but we are such a closed up, buttoned up bunch us British men. I can also reveal the top choice was W. H. Auden and here is an extract from his Lullaby:
Lay your sleeping head my love,
Human on my faithless arm...
Personally I would have chosen Neruda, or Rilke and then as I started writing my own personal list began to grow, ah well. What I can't really decide on is the rationale behind the anthology, except that it is raising money for Amnesty International (which is why I will buy it) but when Kate Allen, the British Director of the charity said, "We hope that this anthology will encourage boys, in particular, to know that crying - and poetry - isn't just for girls," I found myself thinking, well there you go, in an effort to address gender stereotyping we are given, umm, a gender stereotype - it was Dante who wrote:
Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark
For the straightforward pathway had been lost...
I have lived with these lines all my life, and still the pathway eludes. I posted this track recently, but still it lingers. This tough old rock and roll boy had no idea, about gender and poetry, did he? Happy Monday morning, the sun is shining, the early grey tea is fine and I still miss...
