This Poem was Submitted By: James C. Horak On Date: 2006-02-06 14:23:15 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Sir Richard Burton

Actors are not thought much upon the pages of History.    Their tread more a swipe at dust, than bold mark                                       blood-emblazoned. And so, I had thought the hanger on to twisted beauty              Demented more than ever to pedophile cause, now. But such men are not to be measured, half-kissing beauty                  Shorted by stick to measure worthiness better.  A. Miller dug to frailty with his own penis at the same flesh                                                                                                                                               and blood pin-up. But Burton, a man whose lines often shorted him, more worthy than    Sometimes the Bard himself, to find so true the very intention                The Muse placed upon every tone and measure.  Able to know within what was to come without, yet find the way       A thing said more than once, was never still the same.  While living, his legacy, as that of all, was not apparent. Even then,     So tawdry can we be, the hints of his greatness were not met                                                   With his best. And I, practiced in art to know better, knew so suddenly how poorly                                                                 I knew. When I first drew in, The Medusa Touch, so disingenuously                                                        after his death.

Copyright © February 2006 James C. Horak

Additional Notes:
Burton was foremost a Shakespearean actor, who, no matter what role he played saved some rich reminder of that Elizabethan legacy for his lines. The movie, The Medusa Touch, gave him a role in which the full expanse of his delivery in all measure could be delivered. That it had a futurist or science fiction bent gave it even more of the Grecian Stage larger-than-life demeanor...one the actor added greatly to. His swan song oration within a fervent pleading for his doomed client before the English court is equal to the Eulogy of Caesar by Mark Antony in Shakespeare's, Julius Caesar. It had to have been written with both Shakespeare and Burton in mind. Just as these elements are so astoundingly found in a poorly promoted cinema, so to is the incredible parallel this movie itself verges upon as it becomes as stark a euphemism as there is for endless, timeless, watonless existence. Sadly this awareness underlined Burton's life and haunted many of the interpretations he placed upon his roles. For one cannot separate such gifted understandings from life.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2006-03-07 15:14:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
James, You capture an bifurcated vision that meets with your theme. The style, almost a Shakespearean suite, that brings alive the object of your piece. I don’t know if I would agree with your opening line; “Actors are not thought much upon the pages of History.” as with all artists they are probably staged improperly for circumstance, but never held with the esteem for innate value to humanity. I can say that Poets, Bards, and Painters probably all fall into the near pseudo-realm of, “very nice, and glad we have ‘em, but the can opener has had a far more practical effect on society”. Then again, the metaphor is clearer in the following lines. I am not sure that Arthur Miller (my assumption of A. Miller) would find the piece a flattering caricature (nor do I think, in any case it is really pertinent to your piece, more a contrast you needed to make for your own defining), but it is easily ingested. In fact, it is an obtuse relation between the beauty of the artist being overvalued (all artists; aka; the questionable acting skills of Marilyn Monroe) – as compared to the overlooked skill of the artisan being undervalued, but I like it, I’ll take it. You could have said it just as bitingly without the anatomical reference. I was spellbound reading this piece. Although I am often suspect of tribute pieces (mostly cause I know the value of the can opener as well), I caught much of the spirit of who the man was. Also, being a true lover of the Shakespearean ilk, I have early honored those who could command the presence to do it well. Your verse was like that, so I was entertained. Passionately it made its peace. I will tell you up front I have no reference for the “pedophile”- particularly in the day and age it was, but nevertheless it works, narcissism is ever that way. Oddly, the marriage of Richard and Elizabeth, embroiled in her young passions, might be construed to adhere to like passions of Miller and MM, anyway; just a thought. As I said, I was captivated by your reference, and this piece immediately brought to mind similar situations, those of Lawrence Olivier, Vincent Price, and maybe in a modern sense Patrick Stewart, whose fame came not from Shakespeare, but from the silver screen/t.v., and yet were always at their height as thespians when given to perform a piece by the great one, or a similarly written play. When you spoke of “The Medusa Touch”, I couldn’t have echoed more strongly your thoughts, of how such a great actor could draw and raise the piece- raise himself once more- beyond the quality of the script. You may not agree, but the “one last great moment” was similar for me to Burt Lancaster’s small part in “The Field of Dreams”, where I believe, he granted us all his personal “Good night Mrs. Calabash”, and for a moment was greater than a very good script. Excellent piece!! Should vie for this months winner; however, this is a tough month to judge.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Terry A On Date: 2006-02-28 17:06:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
"The Medusa Touch". (Was worried about it, earlier in the week at TPL.) All of your poetry inspires, and brings the reader to closer examination of themselves and others. Sometimes it seems, that "all the world's a stage, and we its actors". But only so far as people can disconnect from their words and actions, and you don't let people do that. No true poet does. Terry
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2006-02-15 05:10:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
JCH I watched Burton in "Cleopatra" for the first time last night. Marathon 4-hour thing, and Burton really only figures in the second half. I'd seen him in other things, but years ago. As Antony ... very impressive. Naturally, having read this poem a few times before watching "Cleopatra", the poem was in the background as I watched. How he despaired when he thought he was being left by the woman he loved, yet how he gave his all for something more valuable to him than territory and loot. And the poem? Once again you present something that one cannot "acquiesce" in easily. But it has that draw-card feel to it which keeps me coming back. The "message" part, the being made aware by practitioners of art how much we have to learn, feels true. The Arthur Miller reference rocks the boat a little, though obviously deliberately, except for what I gather is the idea that despite the pin-up he dug, he still dug it to find something essential about the human condition, so it wasn't a complete loss. Perhaps the contrast of Miller is there to underline that very point. Overall, the feeling this leaves me with is "tristesse" for the qualities we often don't recognise in the moment we first encounter them, but only later, after they have passed. Better than not at all, eh? MAH
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2006-02-09 16:10:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
JCH, Am a Burton fan myself. I wonder if you have a certain DVD, a rehearsal of Burton's famour Broadway Hamlet, directed by John Gielgud. I've always flirted with purchasing a copy, and, if you have it, let me know what you think of it. Being a Burton fan, I appreciated the posting, and the notes. But . . . this is all over the place. It has a sprawl that doesn't work. Reading it was like reading the text of a speech, not a poem. When I have to work real hard to even get a poem to the status of average merit - I don't work. What's the point? You have to earn - or rather inspire - a readers labor. A good poem requires merely a glance, like a beautiful woman. Then you'd give up just about anything to "get to know." Then the "work" ceases to be labor. Shit, man. It's only 'cause I value our communication that I bother saying this. We gotta come clean, and be honest when something doesn't work. Or all the plaudits are mere bubbles blown into a fan. I'll be here when you next shoot me a glance that drops my drawers. And you will. But not this time. MSS
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2006-02-09 14:57:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Forgive me if I'm brief here as my eyesight is not good today. thank goodness I can touch type eh!? I saw Burton on Broadway in Camelot...my first experience seeing him in any capacity. this back in the early 60s. I find this piece intriguing yet hard to read (not only because of my eyes), but I find it stilted...it really doesn't flow. And those periods at the ends of sentences which really aren't ends in some places very disturbing. I"m not sure why you brought up Miller's penis here. I know he dipped it into MM but that's all the connection between the two or did Burton have it in for her too? I appologize for not coming up with something better, but that's the best I can offer right now...negative sutff I guess...
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