An Exequy by Peter Porter

An Exequy by Peter Porter

Peter Porter
1929-2010


“An Exequy”

 

 

In wet May, in the months of change,
In a country you wouldn’t visit, strange
Dreams pursue me in my sleep,
Black creatures of the upper deep –
Though you are five months dead, I see
You in guilt’s iconography,
Dear Wife, lost beast, beleaguered child,
The stranded monster with the mild
Appearance, whom small waves tease,
(Andromeda upon her knees
In orthodox deliverance)
And you alone of pure substance,
The unformed form of life, the earth
Which Piero’s brushes brought to birth
For all to greet as myth, a thing
Out of the box of imagining.

This introduction serves to sing
Your mortal death as Bishop King
Once hymned in tetrametric rhyme
His young wife, lost before her time;
Though he lived on for many years
His poem each day fed new tears
To that unreaching spot, her grave,
His lines a baroque architrave
The Sunday poor with bottled flowers
Would by-pass in their morning hours,
Esteeming ragged natural life
(‘Most dear loved, most gentle wife’),
Yet, looking back when at the gate
And seeing grief in formal state
Upon a sculpted angel group,
Were glad that men of god could stoop
To give the dead a public stance
And freeze them in their mortal dance.

The words and faces proper to
My misery are private – you
Would never share our heart with those
Whose only talent’s to suppose,
Nor from your final childish bed
Raise a remote confessing head –
The channels of our lives are blocked,
The hand is stopped upon the clock,
No one can say why hearts will break
And marriages are all opaque:
A map of loss, some posted cards,
The living house reduced to shards,
The abstract hell of memory,
The pointlessness of poetry –
These are the instances which tell
Of something which I know full well,
I owe a death to you – one day
The time will come for me to pay
When your slim shape from photographs
Stands at my door and gently asks
If I have any work to do
Or will I come to bed with you.
O scala enigmata,
I’ll climb up to that attic where
The curtain of your life was drawn
Some time between despair and dawn –
I’ll never know with what halt steps
You mounted to this plain eclipse
But each stair now will station me
A black responsibility
And point me to that shut-down room,
‘This be your due appointed tomb.’

I think of us in Italy:
Gin-and-chianti-fuelled, we
Move in a trance through Paradise,
Feeding at last our starving eyes,
Two people of the English blindness
Doing each masterpiece the kindness
Of discovering it – from Baldovinetti
To Venice’s most obscure jetty.
A true unfortunate traveller, I
Depend upon your nurse’s eye
To pick the altars where no Grinner
Puts us off our tourists’ dinner
And in hotels to bandy words
With Genevan girls and talking birds,
To wear your feet out following me
To night’s end and true amity,
And call my rational fear of flying
A paradigm of Holy Dying –
And, oh my love, I wish you were
Once more with me, at night somewhere
In narrow streets applauding wines,
The moon above the Apennines
As large as logic and the stars,
Most middle-aged of avatars,
As bright as when they shone for truth
Upon untried and avid youth.

The rooms and days we wandered through
Shrink in my mind to one – there you
Lie quite absorbed by peace – the calm
Which life could not provide is balm
In death. Unseen by me, you look
Past bed and stairs and half-read book
Eternally upon your home,
The end of pain, the left alone.
I have no friend, no intercessor,
No psychopomp or true confessor
But only you who know my heart
In every cramped and devious part –
Then take my hand and lead me out,
The sky is overcast by doubt,
The time has come, I listen for
Your words of comfort at the door,
O guide me through the shoals of fear –
‘Fürchte dich nicht, ich bin bei dir.’

(from The Cost of Seriousness, 1978)

Crusoe in England

Crusoe in England

Crusoe in England
A new volcano has erupted,
the papers say, and last week I was reading   
where some ship saw an island being born:   
at first a breath of steam, ten miles away;   
and then a black fleck—basalt, probably—
rose in the mate’s binoculars
and caught on the horizon like a fly.
They named it. But my poor old island’s still   
un-rediscovered, un-renamable.
None of the books has ever got it right.
Well, I had fifty-two
miserable, small volcanoes I could climb   
with a few slithery strides—
volcanoes dead as ash heaps.
I used to sit on the edge of the highest one   
and count the others standing up,
naked and leaden, with their heads blown off.   
I’d think that if they were the size   
I thought volcanoes should be, then I had   
become a giant;
and if I had become a giant,
I couldn’t bear to think what size   
the goats and turtles were,
or the gulls, or the overlapping rollers   
—a glittering hexagon of rollers   
closing and closing in, but never quite,   
glittering and glittering, though the sky   
was mostly overcast.
My island seemed to be
a sort of cloud-dump. All the hemisphere’s   
left-over clouds arrived and hung
above the craters—their parched throats   
were hot to touch.
Was that why it rained so much?
And why sometimes the whole place hissed?   
The turtles lumbered by, high-domed,   
hissing like teakettles.
(And I’d have given years, or taken a few,   
for any sort of kettle, of course.)
The folds of lava, running out to sea,
would hiss. I’d turn. And then they’d prove   
to be more turtles.
The beaches were all lava, variegated,   
black, red, and white, and gray;
the marbled colors made a fine display.   
And I had waterspouts. Oh,
half a dozen at a time, far out,
they’d come and go, advancing and retreating,   
their heads in cloud, their feet in moving patches   
of scuffed-up white.
Glass chimneys, flexible, attenuated,   
sacerdotal beings of glass … I watched   
the water spiral up in them like smoke.   
Beautiful, yes, but not much company.
I often gave way to self-pity.
“Do I deserve this? I suppose I must.
I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Was there   
a moment when I actually chose this?
I don’t remember, but there could have been.”   
What’s wrong about self-pity, anyway?
With my legs dangling down familiarly   
over a crater’s edge, I told myself
“Pity should begin at home.” So the more   
pity I felt, the more I felt at home.
The sun set in the sea; the same odd sun   
rose from the sea,
and there was one of it and one of me.   
The island had one kind of everything:   
one tree snail, a bright violet-blue
with a thin shell, crept over everything,   
over the one variety of tree,
a sooty, scrub affair.
Snail shells lay under these in drifts   
and, at a distance,
you’d swear that they were beds of irises.   
There was one kind of berry, a dark red.   
I tried it, one by one, and hours apart.   
Sub-acid, and not bad, no ill effects;   
and so I made home-brew. I’d drink   
the awful, fizzy, stinging stuff
that went straight to my head
and play my home-made flute
(I think it had the weirdest scale on earth)   
and, dizzy, whoop and dance among the goats.   
Home-made, home-made! But aren’t we all?   
I felt a deep affection for
the smallest of my island industries.   
No, not exactly, since the smallest was   
a miserable philosophy.
Because I didn’t know enough.
Why didn’t I know enough of something?   
Greek drama or astronomy? The books   
I’d read were full of blanks;
the poems—well, I tried
reciting to my iris-beds,
“They flash upon that inward eye,
which is the bliss …” The bliss of what?   
One of the first things that I did
when I got back was look it up.
The island smelled of goat and guano.   
The goats were white, so were the gulls,   
and both too tame, or else they thought   
I was a goat, too, or a gull.
Baa, baa, baa and shriek, shriek, shriek,
baa … shriek … baa  I still can’t shake   
them from my ears; they’re hurting now.
The questioning shrieks, the equivocal replies   
over a ground of hissing rain
and hissing, ambulating turtles
got on my nerves.
When all the gulls flew up at once, they sounded
like a big tree in a strong wind, its leaves.   
I’d shut my eyes and think about a tree,   
an oak, say, with real shade, somewhere.   
I’d heard of cattle getting island-sick.   
I thought the goats were.
One billy-goat would stand on the volcano
I’d christened Mont d’Espoir or Mount Despair
(I’d time enough to play with names),   
and bleat and bleat, and sniff the air.   
I’d grab his beard and look at him.   
His pupils, horizontal, narrowed up
and expressed nothing, or a little malice.   
I got so tired of the very colors!   
One day I dyed a baby goat bright red   
with my red berries, just to see   
something a little different.
And then his mother wouldn’t recognize him.
Dreams were the worst. Of course I dreamed of food
and love, but they were pleasant rather
than otherwise. But then I’d dream of things   
like slitting a baby’s throat, mistaking it   
for a baby goat. I’d have
nightmares of other islands
stretching away from mine, infinities   
of islands, islands spawning islands,   
like frogs’ eggs turning into polliwogs   
of islands, knowing that I had to live   
on each and every one, eventually,   
for ages, registering their flora,   
their fauna, their geography.
Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it   
another minute longer, Friday came.   
(Accounts of that have everything all wrong.)   
Friday was nice.
Friday was nice, and we were friends.   
If only he had been a woman!
I wanted to propagate my kind,   
and so did he, I think, poor boy.
He’d pet the baby goats sometimes,
and race with them, or carry one around.   
—Pretty to watch; he had a pretty body.
And then one day they came and took us off.
Now I live here, another island,
that doesn’t seem like one, but who decides?
My blood was full of them; my brain   
bred islands. But that archipelago
has petered out. I’m old.
I’m bored, too, drinking my real tea,   
surrounded by uninteresting lumber.
The knife there on the shelf—
it reeked of meaning, like a crucifix.
It lived. How many years did I   
beg it, implore it, not to break?
I knew each nick and scratch by heart,
the bluish blade, the broken tip,
the lines of wood-grain on the handle …
Now it won’t look at me at all.   
The living soul has dribbled away.   
My eyes rest on it and pass on.
The local museum’s asked me to
leave everything to them:
the flute, the knife, the shrivelled shoes,
my shedding goatskin trousers
(moths have got in the fur),
the parasol that took me such a time   
remembering the way the ribs should go.
It still will work but, folded up,
looks like a plucked and skinny fowl.
How can anyone want such things?
—And Friday, my dear Friday, died of measles
seventeen years ago come March.
10 Letter Word Synonyms for Gratitude

10 Letter Word Synonyms for Gratitude

A selection of 10 lettter words that are synonyms or similar to gratitude. Do you have any others to add the list? let me know in the comments below.

 

ANSWERABLE

CENSURABLE

DEPENDABLE

ENRAPTURED

ENTHRALLED

FAVOURABLE

PROPITIOUS

PROSPEROUS

SPELLBOUND

STIMULATED

SUCCESSFUL

GRATIFYING

REFRESHING

ACCEPTABLE

10 Letter Words With no Repeating Letters

10 Letter Words With no Repeating Letters

A

 

B

 

C

 

D

 

E

 

F

 

G

 

H

 

I

 

J

 

    L

     

    M

     

    N

     

    O

     

    P

     

    Q

     

    R

     

    S

     

    T

     

    U

     

    V

     

    W

     
    10 Letter Words Starting With Z

    10 Letter Words Starting With Z

    10 Letter Words Beginning With A

    10 Letter Words Beginning With A

    ATTENTION!!! Please checkout our  ” Big A alphabet Wordsearch Book for Adults
    Big A alphabet word search for adults emeraldbookclub.org

    Embark on a fascinating journey through the alphabet with “Alphabet Adventure: 2000 Words Starting with ‘A’ – The Ultimate Word Search Book for Aficionados.” This unique word search book is dedicated entirely to words that begin with the letter ‘A,’ offering a delightful and challenging experience for word enthusiasts of all levels.

    Featuring over 2000 carefully selected words, this book promises hours of entertainment and mental stimulation. From everyday terms like “Abbreviate” and “Adaptively” to more complex words such as “Admonitive” and “Advections,” each puzzle is crafted to enhance your vocabulary and sharpen your mind.

    10 Letter Words with Six Vowels

    10 Letter Words with Six Vowels

    Are you a fan of the big 10? 

    Below is a list of 10 letter words to boost your vocabulary. Read them Learn them and find out the meanings and synonyms to use on your writing, speaking and listening.

     

    10 Letter Words With 6 Vowels

    cassiopeia
    chautauqua
    courageous
    ecuadorian
    autologous
    autoloader
    autoimmune
    alienation
    ameliorate
    aquamarine
    asteraceae
    auctioneer
    audiophile
    inaugurate
    equational
    equatorial
    equilibria
    equitation
    euthanasia
    evacuation
    evaluation
    evaluative
    ideologies
    inadequate
    outrageous
    audiotapes
    auditioned
    auditorium
    auspicious
    eigenvalue
    equalities
    initialise
    initialize
    initiation
    ideologise
    indianaite
    palaeozoic
    iniquitous
    monoecious
    obsequious
    oceanarium
    oleaginous
    equivocate
    ericaceous
    eurocheque
    eurovision
    bioaerosol
    autoguider
    autoerotic
    iodocasein
    olivaceous
    oniomaniac
    oniscoidea
    taeninidia
    violaceous
    loquacious
    aeronautic
    ubiquinone
    audiometer
    haematuria
    radiolaria
    aficionado
    automation
    automobile
    automotive
    autonomous
    beaujolais
    beautician
    initiative
    ionisation
    ionization
    isoleucine
    mauritania
    obituaries
    orientalia
    iniquities
    inequities
    reevaluate
    autotomies
    autotomise
    deaquation
    deliquiate
    eliquidate
    enicuridae
    equinities
    haliotidae
    iconomania
    idealities
    audiencier
    areologies
    arecaceous
    ubiquitous
    univariate
    aceraceous
    aethalioid
    acetonuria
    aerologies
    adequation
    aedilities
    alineation
    aquicolous
    The Average Number of Books Read per Year

    The Average Number of Books Read per Year

    Do you have a reading target each year or do you just pick a book randomly? I had a target of one book per week once upon a time. It went well for a few months I must say. I know..no excuses right? i must get back into hardcore eading habits. Warren Buffet himself spends hours per day reading: what is my excuse..or yours..lets stick with yours for now…

    The average number of books read per year varies by country, with the United States at the top with an average of 17 books annually, followed closely by India (16 books) and the United Kingdom (15 books). Other countries with high averages include France (14 books) and Italy (13 books), while many other nations fall below seven books per year, with Afghanistan at the lowest with about 2.56 books   

    Countries also rank differently when measured by hours spent reading per week, with IndiaThailand, and China leading in that metric, which may reflect differences in reading speed or book length

    Based on recent data from 2024/2025, the United States and India lead in the average number of books read per year per person, with 17 and 16 books, respectively

    Top countries by average books read per year
      • United States: 17 books
      • India: 16 books
      • United Kingdom: 15 books
      • France: 14 books
      • Italy: 13 books
      • Canada: 12 books
      • Russia: 11 books
      • Australia: 10 books
      • Spain: 9 books
      • Netherlands: 8 books

    These statistics are generally derived from surveys and vary depending on the methodology, sample size, and type of books (print, e-book, audiobook) included. The United States , for example, has also shown a median number of 5 books read per year, indicating that a significant portion of the population reads far fewer books than the average suggests

    Other countries
      • Switzerland: 6.9 books
      • Taiwan: 6.83 books
      • Belgium: 6.76 books
      • Singapore: 6.72 books
      • Hong Kong: 6.66 books
      • South Africa: 6.62 books
      • China: 6.61 books
      • Japan: 6.2 books
      • Afghanistan: 2.56 books

    The Most-Read Books

    The list of the most-read books of all time includes the Holy Bible as number one and the Holy Quran at number two. The Harry Potter Series, collections of quotes from The Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse Tung (former Communist China Party leader), and Lord of the Rings are several of the other most read books.

    What factors contribute to high book reading rates in India, US and UK?

    High book reading rates in India and the United States stem from a mix of robust cultural emphasis on education, high accessibility to reading materials (both physical and digital), and significant socioeconomic factors

    India
    • Strong Emphasis on Education and Knowledge: Indian culture places a high value on learning and knowledge, which makes reading a common and popular leisure activity across all age groups. Schools often place high importance on cultivating a passion for books, with regular book festivals (like the Jaipur Literature Festival) and school book weeks.
    • Growing Middle Class and Literacy Rates: The expansion of the economy has led to a growing middle class with rising disposable incomes, who are more willing to invest in books and educational materials. Combined with consistently increasing national literacy rates, this creates a larger pool of potential readers.
    • Accessibility and Affordability: The rise of e-commerce platforms has made books more accessible, while the availability of cheap, easily accessible material, especially non-literary fiction, caters to a wide audience.
    • Diverse Literary Ecosystem: A rich cultural landscape drives demand for vernacular literature and supports local authors, ensuring a wide range of content is available to diverse demographics
    United States
    • High Access and Availability: The U.S. benefits from widespread access to books through extensive library systems, major bookstores, and online retailers. The prevalence of e-readers and e-books further increases accessibility.
    • Educational System and Literacy: Historically, foundational laws mandated basic education, contributing to a culture of widespread literacy. While literacy challenges exist in some demographics, the overall educational infrastructure encourages reading from a young age, with a focus on literacy skills in schools and among parents.
    • Demand for Information and Entertainment: Americans seek information, entertainment, and distraction through books, with an increasing desire for comfort and understanding in uncertain times. The availability of diverse genres (fiction, non-fiction, history, mystery) caters to varied interests.
    • Strong Publishing Industry: A robust and competitive publishing industry ensures a constant flow of new titles, supported by a large market that can sustain demand for niche subjects and popular bestsellers
    United Kingdom

    High book reading rates in the UK (averaging 15 books per year per person) are driven by a combination of a strong foundational culture of literacy, high book accessibility, and government and charity-led initiatives

    Key factors include:
    • Established Culture of Literacy: The UK has a long-standing emphasis on education and a very high overall literacy rate (around 99%). A strong historical appreciation for literature is embedded in the national culture, with books and reading often valued activities within the home environment from an early age.
    • Early Exposure to Books: Research consistently shows a significant link between children owning books at home and their likelihood of reading above their expected age level. Early exposure to books in the parental home establishes routines that enhance lifelong reading habits and cognitive competencies.
    • Extensive Public Library System: The UK has a widespread network of public and school libraries that provides easy and free access to a vast array of reading materials, catering to diverse interests and socioeconomic backgrounds.
    • Active Promotion of Reading for Pleasure: Numerous government initiatives and charities, such as the National Literacy Trust and The Reading Agency, run campaigns and programs to promote reading for enjoyment. Events like World Book Day also help to maintain enthusiasm for reading across the population.
    • Robust Publishing Industry: The UK has a large and vibrant publishing sector that produces a constant flow of new, diverse titles across all genres, supported by major booksellers and online retailers, ensuring a wide variety of choices for readers.
    • Socioeconomic Factors: While socioeconomic disparities in reading habits exist, overall higher educational attainment and a large middle class with disposable income for book purchases contribute to the high national average

     

    Survey methods for collecting data on book reading habits across countries

    Data on book reading habits is primarily collected through surveys and data analytics from digital platforms, usually initiated by government organizations, industry associations, or market research companies. The methodologies vary by country, leading to challenges in international comparability

    Common Survey Methods
    The most common Data Survey methods include:
    • Personal Interviews: These are a dominant method, conducted either in-person or via telephone (Computer-Assisted Telephone Interviewing – CATI). This approach is used by organizations like the Pew Research Center in the US.
    • Online Questionnaires: Web-based surveys are widely used due to their cost-effectiveness and reach. These often involve self-administered questionnaires.
    • Mixed-Mode Approaches: Combining different methods (e.g., phone and online surveys, or mail and web) helps researchers achieve better representation across diverse populations.
    • Time Use Surveys: These surveys ask individuals to report their activities within a specific 24-hour window, which can provide more detailed information on reading duration and reduce recall bias compared to general “how many books” questions. The American Time Use Survey (ATUS) is a notable example
    Data from Digital Platforms
    Beyond traditional surveys, researchers also gather data through digital analytics:
    • E-reader Data: Data from e-reading devices (like Amazon Kindle) or library checkouts can offer insights, though this data is often proprietary and difficult to obtain for research purposes.
    • Social Media Platforms: Researchers have collected data from book-cataloging social media platforms like Goodreads by utilizing their APIs to analyze user-reported reading instances
    I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

    I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

    I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
    And Mourners to and fro
    Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
    That Sense was breaking through –
    And when they all were seated,
    A Service, like a Drum –
    Kept beating – beating – till I thought
    My mind was going numb –
    And then I heard them lift a Box
    And creak across my Soul
    With those same Boots of Lead, again,
    Then Space – began to toll,
    As all the Heavens were a Bell,
    And Being, but an Ear,
    And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
    Wrecked, solitary, here –
    And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
    And I dropped down, and down –
    And hit a World, at every plunge,
    And Finished knowing – then –
    The Brain — is wider than the Sky

    The Brain — is wider than the Sky

    The Brain — is wider than the Sky —
    For — put them side by side —
    The one the other will contain
    With ease — and You — beside —

    The Brain is deeper than the sea —
    For — hold them — Blue to Blue —
    The one the other will absorb —
    As Sponges — Buckets — do —

    The Brain is just the weight of God —
    For — Heft them — Pound for Pound —
    And they will differ — if they do —
    As Syllable from Sound —

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