Should Auld Aquaintance

We're looking forward to the Burns Supper at the Poolewe Hotel. A packed assembly will gather together to honour that ever poverty stricken Ayrshire farmer and world class Lothario who is Scotland's national poet, the composer of that most universally known of verses beginning, 'Should auld aquaintance be forgot ...'
Yes, the company will be excellent, as will the piping. The food and drink will be good, especially that famous old puddin' (I love haggis), and the speeches pointedly hilarious. We will feel ourselves enjoined by millions upon millions of others far outside the borders of Scotland.
One question in my mind: where have all the poets gone? I mean the real poets; the ones of this past and present century whose work will be similarly feted into the forever future? I cannot answer this, although I might anger some by stating that if they are indeed here, somewhere, I cannot hear them; and that for the most part poetry today is the train wreck from which the majority of us instinctively turn away. True, I hear echoes in such as the work of Bob Dylan but I cannot hear the real thing.
For me poetry is the highest form of human artifice, the high water mark of each succeeding generation. Should humanity disappear from the universe and other life forms come across its traces in millenia to come, such life forms will trace our ascent and decline and fall through nothing but our verse over time.
So my glass will be raised to that old Robbie and to all those others in the past who have left us the lines of strung together words that provide ongoing inspiration and explanation to and for us all.

1 comment:

  1. Bryan, have you seen the online Burns work at and ?


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