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Printed from https://writing.com/main/newsletters/action/archives/id/7317-A-S-J-Tessimond.html
Poetry: November 11, 2015 Issue [#7317]

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Poetry


 This week: A. S. J. Tessimond
  Edited by: Stormy Lady Author IconMail Icon
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Table of Contents

1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions

About This Newsletter

This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady Author Icon


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Letter from the editor

The Man In The Bowler Hat
By A. S. J. Tessimond

I am the unnoticed, the unnoticeable man:
The man who sat on your right in the morning train:
The man who looked through like a windowpane:
The man who was the colour of the carriage, the colour of the mounting
Morning pipe smoke.
I am the man too busy with a living to live,
Too hurried and worried to see and smell and touch:
The man who is patient too long and obeys too much
And wishes too softly and seldom.

I am the man they call the nation's backbone,
Who am boneless - playable castgut, pliable clay:
The Man they label Little lest one day
I dare to grow.

I am the rails on which the moment passes,
The megaphone for many words and voices:
I am the graph diagram,
Composite face.

I am the led, the easily-fed,
The tool, the not-quite-fool,
The would-be-safe-and-sound,
The uncomplaining, bound,
The dust fine-ground,
Stone-for-a-statue waveworn pebble-round.


Arthur Seymour John Tessimond was born on July 19, 1902 in Birkenhead, England. He was an only child and left home at a young age. He was sixteen when he started his studies at Liverpool University. After he finished his studies he moved to London where he worked in a small bookshop. Tessimond dodged getting drafted into the service during World War II. Only to later find out he would have been declared unfit for duty all along. He was later diagnosed as having bipolar disorder. As a treatment for his condition Tessimond underwent electroshock therapy in hope to cure his condition.

Tessimond started writing in his early twenties. Often writing about his ups and downs and his nightlife. As many other poets, his first pieces were published in literary magazines. In 1934, Tessimond published his first volume of poetry "Walls of Glass." Followed by "Voices in a Giant City" published in 1947. Tessimond also contributed poems to "Bewick's Birds," which was published in 1954.

At the age of sixty, Tessimond suffered a Brain hemorrhage and died. A posthumous collection entitled "Not Love Perhaps" was published in 1978. Also published "Collected Poems" in 1985, which was edited and by Hubert Nicholson.

Editors Note: I first read one of A.S.J Tessimond’s poems a few years back. I was intrigued by his work and went looking for more. I found very little about the poet himself, it was as if time had erased him and only left behind the words he sent out into the world. Like so many other poets I have featured in my newsletters he fought a darkness inside him. I seem to be drawn to be drawn to those minds that at shattered. Their poetry often tugs at my soul and I quickly add them to a must read. I hope you enjoy his work as much as I did.


Black Morning Lovesong
by A. S. J. Tessimond

In love's dances, in love's dances
One retreats and one advances,
One grows warmer and one colder,
One more hesitant, one bolder.
One gives what the other needed
Once, or will need, now unheeded.
One is clenched, compact, ingrowing
While the other's melting, flowing.
One is smiling and concealing
While the other's asking kneeling.
One is arguing or sleeping
While the other's weeping, weeping.

And the question finds no answer
And the tune misleads the dancer
And the lost look finds no other
And the lost hand finds no brother
And the word is left unspoken
Till the theme and thread are broken.

When shall these divisions alter?
Echo's answer seems to falter:
'Oh the unperplexed, unvexed time
Next time...one day...one day...next time!'

Wet City Night
by A. S. J. Tessimond

Light drunkenly reels into shadow;
Blurs, slurs uneasily;
Slides off the eyeballs:
The segments shatter.

Tree-branches cut arc-light in ragged
Fluttering wet strips.
The cup of the sky-sign is filled too full;
It slushes wine over.

The street-lamps dance a tarentella
And zigzag down the street:
They lift and fly away
In a wind of lights.


Thank you all!
Stormy Lady Author Icon
A logo for Poetry Newsletter Editors
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Editor's Picks


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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" Open in new Window. [ASR] is:

 "Some Dreams Will Never Die" Open in new Window. (E)
See a scary movie and it stays with you the rest of your life?
#2062316 by Casey Author IconMail Icon



Dark memories still conjure in my sight
when Dracula's GREY coffin does appear.
I see the crash of bats in WING`ED flight
I hear the hinges creak upon his bier.

On many BARREN nights since first I saw
the Count, wherein his lady, casket bound
is tortured by the constant drip. That raw
blood-curtling drip, drip, dripping horrid sound.

And MARVELOUS, the blue HUES of that scene
with pale REFLECTIONS from her maddened EYES
she breaks from out her coffin! Such surprise!
She runs across the BRIDGE to meet him there.

On many churlish nights since childhood days
I'm still afraid to sleep without light's blaze.




Honorable mention:
 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#2063531 by Not Available.



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These are the rules:

1) You must use the words I give in a poem or prose with no limits on length.

2) The words can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem and can be any form of the word.

3) All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum, "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" Open in new Window. [ASR] by December 5, 2015.

4) The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post (December 9, 2015)

The words are:

dust tinsel boxes ribbon lights bells flakes keepsake


*Delight* Good luck to all *Delight*
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 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#2063825 by Not Available.

 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#2064518 by Not Available.

 
STATIC
Frosty Piece of... Art Open in new Window. (13+)
Micropoetry straight from my Twitter feed.
#2064724 by Cinn Author IconMail Icon

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 Invalid Item Open in new Window.
This item number is not valid.
#2063712 by Not Available.

STATIC
Imprisoned  Open in new Window. (ASR)
Poem about self pain
#2063945 by ~Minja~ Author IconMail Icon

 Consider the Rain  Open in new Window. (E)
Keep a positive attitude in times of stress and grief.
#2064704 by turtlemoon-dohi Author IconMail Icon

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STATIC
Till We Meet Again Open in new Window. (E)
A poem about my grandfather
#2064356 by Jen~ Author IconMail Icon

 Zombies Open in new Window. (E)
What have we become?
#2064736 by Jarrod Martin Author IconMail Icon

 
STATIC
Dark Soul Open in new Window. (13+)
Writer's Cramp Entry~Animals are in tune with paranormal, spirits, and such.....
#2064795 by Jen~ Author IconMail Icon

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