tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5873009918100574338.post3744933384206930237..comments2024-02-05T09:17:53.322-08:00Comments on Adrian Barlow's blog: Sunday in Saint GermainAdrian Barlowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04526714501872493961noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5873009918100574338.post-69361735748465652282014-10-26T14:45:06.827-07:002014-10-26T14:45:06.827-07:00"Dull would he be of soul who could pass by a..."Dull would he be of soul who could pass by a sight so touching in its majesty"?Garry Headlandhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07741556616880181278noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5873009918100574338.post-51117278806600010182014-07-05T05:48:51.960-07:002014-07-05T05:48:51.960-07:00Adrian – A lovely blog, and – as such – no surpris...Adrian – A lovely blog, and – as such – no surprise to your readers! I hope though that you will not mind my concentrating on Auden’s’ lines, “poetry makes nothing happen.” This is one of those vague fears that have hovered about my mind for decades. But, like many such, I think it is based on a false perspective – or weak cognitive assent, if you like. Who, after all, ever said that it was the purpose of poetry – its raison d’être – to “change the world”? No one! (insofar at least as I know.)<br /> <br />I have worried in the past that poetry was written by the few, and read only by the statistically barely discernible. In other words, poetry has been preserve of those lucky enough to both understand and appreciate it. Or, to describe it in another way, poetry has provided inspiration, consolation, and unflinching reality for certain people who might be described as initiates. However, that last word jars, and it simply does not represent the broad democratic audience that poetry reaches. Still, for the majority of mankind poetry is a closed book. Further, the majority do not read at all (and some do not even read newspapers). <br /><br />So is poetry only for the sensitive: those born with a ‘missing layer of skin’ – those who have seen thought the hollow centre of consumerism, and have faced the appalling things that human beings do to each other, to the animal kingdom, and to the environment? I think that the answer is, “Yes”. Pride here is anathema, but gratitude and humility are certainly not. And yet the world is not short of diplomats, politicians, journalists, civil servants, etc. who do read poetry – and the influence of this activity is immeasurable . . . In a sense this comparable to George Herbert’ lines:<br /><br />More servants wait on man<br />Than he’ll take notice of.<br />Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07119180758113013415noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5873009918100574338.post-1600262759407142902014-07-04T03:37:33.574-07:002014-07-04T03:37:33.574-07:00Thank you - again!Thank you - again!tomdhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03766237341387024779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5873009918100574338.post-8446103072856816302014-07-01T15:11:51.155-07:002014-07-01T15:11:51.155-07:00"I should have liked, very much, to share ‘Al..."I should have liked, very much, to share ‘All Day It Has Rained’ with my friends in the OIB; but, as with my farewell visit to the Château of Saint Germain-en-Laye, the moment has passed."<br />Among the newer members of the OIB community, I have only known it under Adrian's auspices. I was 'good at English' at school and 'loved books' so teaching literature was going to be easy. I never really 'got' poetry in school, as my copious doodles in Soundings illustrate. Then came the OIB meetings – in St Germain or Sèvres. What a surprise to discover how wonderful it is to teach poetry and how receptive our students are. How much they teach us. How the poetry they encounter enriches their lives. On the last day of the Baccalaureate one of my 18 year old students was cheerfully telling another that on reading one of the comparative poems in the Literature exam she thought "I'll read that someday at my father's funeral'. This is what Adrian’s love of poetry has brought.<br />Adrian distills poetry into every moment he spends with us. His passion about it gives sense to what we do in the OIB. So in our teaching - and with this blog appearing in our mailbox –he will continue to share poetry and a poetic vision of the ordinary with us.<br />And as for ‘All Day It Has Rained’, it looks like you just have. The moment will never pass. <br />Genevievehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01682929392542138297noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5873009918100574338.post-54625837670615230032014-07-01T05:14:06.396-07:002014-07-01T05:14:06.396-07:00As a former Scout I well remember bell tents but i...As a former Scout I well remember bell tents but it was a week in a ridge tent on the Isle of Man that I had my experience of listless boredom when the rain prevented us from doing any scouting activities. I don’t remember how we managed to cook as everything had to be done over a camp fire. For the rain it raineth everyday. I was far from listless and bored, however, during your ten year tenure as Cambridge Inspector as you gave us more and more challenges to rise to as well as ever more interesting and challenging texts to teach. I also have memories of shared meals and wine that always formed an integral part of the OIB teaching experience. Conviviality is a key word, alongside community, a notion that you encouraged very much. I have walked in the gardens of the Château in St Germain (actually I was pushing my niece in her pram) on a sunny Sunday, yet I didn’t have that cultural knowledge of the place that you have and I shall never have it but then you are someone who is more than willing to share. So, come rain come shine there’ll always be that important Adrian Barlow heritage for us to carry on with and to build on. <br />A great while ago the world begun,<br />With hey, ho, the wind and the rain.<br />But that's all one, our play is done,<br />And we'll strive to please you every day.<br />Garry Headlandhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07741556616880181278noreply@blogger.com