Popping Fuchsias

by Robin Skelton

A new formalism, a new spiritualism waits on the horizon. Always at the forefront, Robin Skelton takes up some of the oldest and most rigorous poetic forms to shape them to new ends. Here is an embarrassment of riches—villanellas, sestinas, sonnets, rondeaus, gloses, cinquains, and even arcane Welsh forms—to delight the most discerning of readers.

172 pages, Paperback

First published September 1, 1992

About the author

Robin Skelton was a writer and poet. He also wrote as Georges Zuk.

Reviews

[Debbie Hill · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a difficult book to rank. I wanted to fall in love with this poet’s words but these poems written between 1987 and 1992 were the result of the poet Robin Skelton “stepping out in a new direction” with rhymes and closed forms. He even admitted in his “Afterword” that this book which concentrated on metrical, rhymed and set forms “has not arisen from a sudden attack of academic nostalgia, but rather from a gradual realization that I had ignored, over the years, a great many possibilities.”

Perhaps this deviation altered his true inner voice. I was told this was not Skelton’s best work and I would have to agree.

Rather than concentrate on his message, I felt myself taking notes and studying the rhymes and form, which were a distraction for me. If you enjoy the intellectual puzzle play of rhymes and form, then this is definitely an excellent book to be examined. However, while I admired his work and dedication in putting this collection together, I wanted the words to speak to me and in most cases, they did not. Also a vast number of the poems were dedicated to individuals and because there were no ‘End Notes”, I felt compelled to look the names up, which I did not due to time constraints. Imagine what the backstories would reveal. This is not a quick read for the beach.

However, there were some word gems that caught my attention. I loved his series called “Five Poems for Christopher Pratt”. I enjoyed reading the epigraphs and the way Skelton expanded on Pratt’s words.

Also in the poem “Landscape”, he wrote “I am not what the painter sees/but what there is in him that sight//cannot express.” Great depth! I loved it.

And perhaps Skeleton saved his best poem for the last, with the book concluding with his 10-page poem “Meditation at Samhain”. In the first section, he wrote: “the slow years have composed/to play my minor air,/for the conductor means/to lay this baton down” and towards the end he wrote “I stand before my desk/part child, part man, and part the echoing skull of age,/and lift my coffee cup.”

Skelton, who died over two decades ago, was a prolific Canadian poet who helped establish the Creative Writing Department at the University of Victoria and co-founded The Malahat Review, a literary journal that is still published today. I look forward to reading more of his work.

[Mills College Library]

811.54 S6275p 1992