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| Jamie McGarry |
What could be more fitting for the last in this series of Poem Club than a poem by my fellow twenty-something self-employed publisher, Jamie McGarry? I acquired his book of snail poems, The Dead Snail Diaries, for the Emma Press quite soon after meeting Jamie last summer, so it's very exciting that it's finally out. As with previous editions of Poem Club, I'll post the poem below along with some of my own thoughts to start things off.
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A Love Poem: From Snail to Slug
God made us brown so we’d be hard
to spot upon his fertile soil;
to hide from the birds (which he made as well),
to cower, dodge, to postpone hell.
But slug does not hide, or flinch back.
His coat? Uncompromising BLACK.
He turns defence into attack.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God gave us shells to weigh us down.
Without them, we would HURTLE round,
so common sense suggests. Who’d beat us,
across a distance of ten metres?
But slug, dear slug, you have the grace
to not rub freedom in our face;
you slow your stride to match our pace.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God made us quiet, thoughtful, wait.
He taught us manners, and restraint.
He taught us not to stay out late,
we’re model garden citizens.
But slug, he DEAFENS when he speaks!
He goes out seven nights a week!
Beer-swilling, hard-living, party beast.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
I’d sell my soul to be like him.
Vacate my shell, and dye my skin.
I’d go twice weekly to the gym,
if doing so would let me in
to doors in town that say ‘slugs only’.
But slug accepts no fake, no phony.
I’ll love, but I will never be
a slug – oh glorious slug.
to spot upon his fertile soil;
to hide from the birds (which he made as well),
to cower, dodge, to postpone hell.
But slug does not hide, or flinch back.
His coat? Uncompromising BLACK.
He turns defence into attack.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God gave us shells to weigh us down.
Without them, we would HURTLE round,
so common sense suggests. Who’d beat us,
across a distance of ten metres?
But slug, dear slug, you have the grace
to not rub freedom in our face;
you slow your stride to match our pace.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God made us quiet, thoughtful, wait.
He taught us manners, and restraint.
He taught us not to stay out late,
we’re model garden citizens.
But slug, he DEAFENS when he speaks!
He goes out seven nights a week!
Beer-swilling, hard-living, party beast.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
I’d sell my soul to be like him.
Vacate my shell, and dye my skin.
I’d go twice weekly to the gym,
if doing so would let me in
to doors in town that say ‘slugs only’.
But slug accepts no fake, no phony.
I’ll love, but I will never be
a slug – oh glorious slug.
Emma's thoughts. This is adorable, right? I think this is an incredibly charming poem, and I especially love all the rhymes. The rhyme scheme is irregular but relentless, with rhymes firing off all over the shop in an irresistibly fun way. My personal favourites are the virtuoso 'Who'd beat us/ten metres' in the third stanza and the climactic barrage of solid monosyllabic rhymes in the penultimate stanza – 'him/skin/gym/in'. The rhymes and rhythms don't feel forced, and just beg to be read aloud (you can hear Jamie reading it here). I think this is the kind of poem that could convince someone that poetry is for them, and is worth investigating further.
Your thoughts. We had a lovely long comment from Sarah Parkinson, which I'll quote in full: 'We have a children's book at home which is about the different animals God has made, and which contains very similar meter and rhyme to this poem. 'God made the busy working ants...' etc. This poem for me evokes some of that childlike perspective on the world around us, exploring something that is innate and yet that we sadly so often lose in adulthood. The snail's longing to be something other than itself is given a plaintive cast elicited by the almost sing-song readability of the poetry. I find the pathos in it - that the snail is not content with its own identity - is also highlighted by the structure, and emphasised effectively by the occasional half-rhyme and loss of rhythm. A very touching and thought-provoking poem.'
What do you think of 'A Love Poem: From Snail to Slug'? Do you find it romantic? What's your favourite bit? Do you like the rhymes? Let me know in the comments section below. Don't be afraid of sounding stupid! Just let me know what you like about the poem or what it makes you feel. All comments will be held for moderation, so don't worry if it doesn't appear immediately after you send it.
<-- POEM CLUB #9: 'Bonfire' by Rachel Piercey
Your thoughts. We had a lovely long comment from Sarah Parkinson, which I'll quote in full: 'We have a children's book at home which is about the different animals God has made, and which contains very similar meter and rhyme to this poem. 'God made the busy working ants...' etc. This poem for me evokes some of that childlike perspective on the world around us, exploring something that is innate and yet that we sadly so often lose in adulthood. The snail's longing to be something other than itself is given a plaintive cast elicited by the almost sing-song readability of the poetry. I find the pathos in it - that the snail is not content with its own identity - is also highlighted by the structure, and emphasised effectively by the occasional half-rhyme and loss of rhythm. A very touching and thought-provoking poem.'
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| The Dead Snail Diaries |
<-- POEM CLUB #9: 'Bonfire' by Rachel Piercey
We have a children's book at home which is about the different animals God has made, and which contains very similar meter and rhyme to this poem. 'God made the busy working ants...' etc. This poem for me evokes some of that childlike perspective on the world around us, exploring something that is innate and yet that we sadly so often lose in adulthood. The snail's longing to be something other than itself is given a plaintive cast elicited by the almost sing-song readability of the poetry. I find the pathos in it - that the snail is not content with its own identity - is also highlighted by the structure, and emphasised effectively by the occasional half-rhyme and loss of rhythm. A very touching and thought-provoking poem.
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