4.8 • 1.9K Ratings
🗓️ 15 February 2023
⏱️ 33 minutes
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0:00.0 | Hello and welcome to Frank Skinner's poetry podcast. Today, I would like to speak about |
0:12.5 | Carol Ann Doffy, who is a very famous British poet born in Scotland and who was poet laureate, |
0:22.2 | the first ever woman, poet laureate in the UK, between 2009 and 2019. You will have heard of |
0:31.6 | Carol Ann Doffy and many of you may well have read a poetry in the context of the school curriculum. |
0:41.9 | She's been on a few syllabi in a time. I have no idea if that is the plural, but |
0:49.7 | hi, it's a poetry podcast, you're allowed to invent. I'm going to go straight into it. I think |
0:55.6 | Carol Ann Doffy is obviously a fab poet and I've picked two of my faves, one that you may well have |
1:05.4 | heard before, one that you may not. Anyway, the one I want to begin with is called Death of a Teacher |
1:12.6 | and well, I'm going to go straight into it. The big trees outside are into their poker game again, |
1:23.3 | shuffling and dealing, turning, folding their leaves, drifting down to the lawn, floating away, |
1:33.5 | high on a breeze. You died yesterday. Okay, so it begins with an elaborate metaphor, |
1:44.8 | making a tree or a collection of trees sound like card players and it works. Well, they do shuffle |
1:55.5 | and deal. Their leaves shuffle around and they are dealt to the ground, turning, folding |
2:02.8 | their leaves, all the things that card players do with their cards. Trees, I imagine, no one to |
2:10.3 | hold them and no one to fold them in the words of Kenny Rogers, drifting down to the lawn, |
2:17.0 | floating away, ice high. They look a bit like, I don't know, ice of spades, some of those leaves, |
2:24.5 | floating away, ice high on a breeze. So we begin with a very poetic, almost stereotypically |
2:35.4 | poetic description of trees. And then just when we're thinking, wow, this is what poetry is all |
2:42.7 | about, isn't it? It's a clever comparisons. And then suddenly, the punch to the stomach, |
2:51.4 | three words you died yesterday. And then everything changes. I don't know if Carolina Duffy |
3:01.8 | or the speaker of the poem is saying, yeah, I love all that stuff, but sometimes it's so real |
3:08.8 | and so raw. Don't forget that stuff as well. Bang, you died yesterday. Okay, next section. |
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