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President of the Writers’ Union expresses emotions with poems

Thursday, August 2, 2012


Kasi Senghor, president of the Writers’ Union of Trinidad and Tobago has written 36 poems entitled Lovingly, Laughingly, Longingly, Searching and About Poetry, in three sections. The first poem, Nandifari, written in common monotype takes up 45 lines, three pages, wide spread without a capital letter, with only three apostrophes, one comma, a semi-colon and the word “till” spelt with one “L.” He laments on his search for the better part of life and expresses his disappointment, his fears and his hopes with which he pontificates, advises on his approach to Happiness. This first verse is nine lines long and challenges the readers’ naivety. He appeals for sanity of thought, that Life is within the landscape, though recognising that on earth, the temporality of life is evident. But is he on the same road of thought like Wordsworth, who said? 
“That on a wild secluded scene impress,
Thoughts of more deep seclusion and connect,
The landscape with the quiet of the sky. 
I am astonished at the sunflowers spinning, 
In huge green meadows above the indigo sea. 
In our life elsewhere, sun flowers” 
Kasi Senghor’s astringent modernistic verses of poetry seek the silent Truth of Life embodied by his own whimsical choice of words, his unique adversity and style. Original in their concepts, at times, his voice tapers to a zone of bewilderment, and command and exhortation but none–the –less, spontaneous. The poems are personal as they are required to be, often with a hint of self–proclaimed pride. His work becomes an aesthetic experience but the readers are shocked by the appearance of new invented words of the English language: ‘plarchurry’, ‘eraculise’, ‘worden’, ‘diatimerich’, ‘ussonence’ and ‘vimuosity’, a stylised rhetoric “substituting Art for Reality”, a wavering interest in the topical adherence to his own ideas and feelings. But he is moved by rhymes, metre and stanzaic form as anticipated, as with blank verse. He attempts to capture the tonal and thematic, the end rhymes resonate with banal cleverness, but not readily accepted as a schematic approach to tradition. Here, Senghor is in his own world, as an egocentric believer in his many multi–planed layouts. Ranging from eight point fonts to verses in various enlarged stylistic outlays, in which the poems breathe a timeless transcendent mode of meaning in their own right. The text explores the many styles and sizes of graphics artistic fonts: Marker, Felt, Monotype Corsiva, Ariac, Algerian and Ariel. His motive is to try all ways in jotting down his thoughts, impressions and emotions. Are these trials or experiments to determine his power of words, some strange-sounding best expressed in this manner. 
Rhyme sometimes lessens the intentioned effect of the poet’s meaning and may reduce the poems to a common ditty. Such attempts convey a tone of childish absurdity, a sing-song, baa-baa-black sheep consonance of just “noise.” 
Yet in all this, the poet explores diction, layout, style and commonality with unusual significance. This often shows up a certain measure of uncertainty, a new voice in search of more confident offering of meaningful lines, whole poems written in lower case fonts that could yet make him a major speaker in the poetic landscape, so long as he perseveres to prove that form, meaning, content and the inner and outer world of values become his relevant, genuine manifesto for all Artistic Expressions. Even though he adopts the method of other poets by laying the lines to produce different forms and shapes to challenge the Christmas card doggerels as part of the Christmas message. A few poems are without punctuation expressing human attitudinal forces written to endorse the open-mouth pleas, his open-heart mutterings of a poet mumbling to himself and to the world, his soulful snippets of saturated comments and physiological excitements, even his spewed formats and all, which we pause to decipher and accept. The stanzas ring with nostalgic tone, childhood memories, dreams to ferment his continuous allegiance with Life. History becomes part of his childhood, the passionate remembrance of by–gone deeds.  Here is Kasi Senghor, poet dabbler, inventor of words, exploring the diverse, inconsistent motives and aspirations of language,the English Language; bringing us into his bold introspections, exposure of his ironies, inconsistances and contradictions,as a persistent fabulist of his own personal ideas and emotions.


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