Modern poetry at Literary Society evening

Modern poetry, ". . . that poetry whose voice is contemporary" was featured at a well-attended meeting of the literary society, in the Little Theatre, Monday March 19. Four poets and Maria Dronke read, and Peter Cape was chairman.

Anton Vogt played himself in with himself, R. A. K. Mason and e. c. cummings. and gave way to Louis Johnson, who burred his way through a pretty well balanced group of five-poems by Auden, Barker and Yeats, and . . . er . . . four poems by himself.

Mine. Dronke, making full use of the stage as a place of movement, read Rilke, and Hopkins. The audience, largely female, appreciated this intensely, earnestly. They had heard of Hopkins. Her reading of Dylan Thomas' "How to be a poet" was the success of the evening.

Charles Doyle opened the second half with four solid conventional pieces, and then presented a new poem of his own which sounded like a young man seeking a standpoint. It was pleasant listening.

Then came James K. Baxter, looking more like nobody but James K. Baxter than anybody you could imagine, with the most solid group, consisting of Barker, Auden, Gascoygne and his own "Book of the Dead." He precise, clear; a joy to listen to.

A brilliant finale was Dennis Glover, whose [unclear: inimita] personality makes even his coming-round-the-bend type of jokes funny. He "apologised for joining the 'obituary poets'" (no out-of-this-world arty poet this) and after a poem to the memory of one Mick Simpson, gave us the joyous bizarre "Thoughts on Cremation":

... is he done yet Bill?
No, he was a big chap,
Give me a little longer . . .

and rounded off with his witty "Electric Love" and a tribute:

I cannot lick a postage stamp,
But, dear, I think of you;
Your lips are bright and rather damp
And somewhat sticky too.

Everyone acclaimed everyone else, and there was supper.