Women hid him, concealed him in girls' sarongs; days of sweetmeats, spices, silver songs . . .
but when Odysseus came,
with an athlete's build, a sword and a shield, he followed him to the battlefield, the crowd's roar,
and it was sport, not war,
his charmed foot on the ball . . .
but then his heel, his heel, his heel . . .
If the pen is mightier than the sword, perhaps UK Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy might wish to investigate fencing next? (And, no, I don't mean light-fingered goods.)
Egawds, how the mighty have fallen, crawlin' all over what Allen Tate called mass mindset for the maltitudes — Oh, okay, I paraphrase — but, man-oh-mannequins! CAD done set her tippies to tappin' an "ode" in praise of Bendy Beckham, his heel and toe-in' tears a-flowin' kind of thang and even allowed one of England's more illustrious gutter smutters to publish same. Why? Why? Why?
Carol Ann Duffy: Why I was inspired to write a special poem to David Beckham . . . The public aspect of some lives provides a narrative, a story, for the rest of us to follow . . . Like Greek Myths, such public lives can contain triumph and tragedy and in a way we all learn from them . . . The narrative of David Beckham's public life is, I'm sure, far from over . . . but this poem is written in sympathy for this part of his story and to draw a parallel with Achilles, who gave his name to Beckham's injury.
Thanks for sharing, Sweetheart. Seems Beckham's not the only one with an Achilles' heel . . .
Now, we all know the dame loves soccer and ranks up there just as worthily as the next grrl when it comes to wielding her workmanlike gifts; but, drooling over a manufactured image and yoking *that* with Achilles and Odysseus in some kind of suggestion the Greeks created those gorgeous go-to works simply to give a mere mortal with a pair of fancy-schmancy briefs the name for his affliction? Keerist save us all from the commodification of absolutely everything, Doll.
Welp, it's a beautiful day in the blabberhood, at least when it comes to bringing poetry to her knees. Puh-leese! If one more journo-slurp appears in print, I am gonna hurl a javelin in any direction that misses Sir Andrew Motion who was roundly and soundly excoriated for his paeon to the Queen Mother. Can we say PCeity run amok? Reverse sexism lives. Gimme a brick and say a prayer for poetry after reading CAD's ick-schtick.
Amen.
KUDOS! Heartfelt congratulations to Fred Wah for making the poetry shortlist in the BC Book Prizes with is a door. May the best book win The Dorothy Livesay Poetry Prize . . . or else!
