Thank you for commenting, and: Thank you for commenting, and thank you for posting your poem on Blok that inspired my own effort. Despite my dislike of all things Soviet, I have always been fascinated by Molotov---among the Bolsheviks, he was the only one who seemed to "dress for success," while the rest of them seemed to dress in very slovenly styles. He was a formidable negotiator, especially when serving as Stalin's foreign minister, and most loyal supporter. Even when his own wife had been imprisoned as a suspected "enemy of the people," he was so fanatcially a Bolshevik that he continued functioning just as if she was dead or deported. After Stalin died, his successors---perhaps fearing what Molotov knew and the kind of reputation he had---expelled him from the Central Committee and the Party, and appointed him to a series of low level assignments, like Ambassador to Mongolia, to humilitate him on the world stage.
insanity was an: insanity was an embexzzler
whose imbecilic umbilical chord
crowded against our pantry door
divesting our hallway mirror
merrily hammocking while
woollen feet swung cosily
casting shadows on our
overly polished parquet floor
That is both sad and: That is both sad and potentially horrific on many angles; too many for the powers that be to not address or even look sideways at.
OMG, this is overwhelming: OMG, this is overwhelming kind and understanding. I had a very difficult time writing the poem---trying to keep Claire's big mouth within the iambic pentameter, and trying to imagine, from the emotional not the historical view, her enormous hatred toward Mary. And, your phrase"nymph like" almost brought tears to my eyes, because she was very small in stature, and with an ethereal beauty that attracted a lot of suitors both before and after Percy's death. Much to Claire's chagrin, Byron propositioned Mary several times (bad behavior, typical of him, but, as a titled "Lord," with access to the King, he is believed to have notified William IV of the very minimum child support that Sir Timothy provided his grandson).
Literary firestorm? What a compliment you have given to Mary, within your wonderful comment that has just knocked me over. When I was an undergrad, and being pressured to drop her from my sophomore project, I was told that she had no real literary talent. Yet, when I asked why her publishers---who were in the business to make money---kept publishing her novels; and why she was being read by people as highly placed as William IV himself; those supposedly profound and well-read scholars could not give me an answer more than a shrug of the shoulders.
I think I could write a whole novel about this comment and still not even scratch the surface of my appreciation. I have loved the cinematic effects of her work since 1963, and her words and the personality they convey, since 1967. (BTW, my copy of that edition I first read in 67 has arrived, whoo-hoo!).
I am so grateful for your compliment on the line "the monsters that her books became to me," and I simply tried to turn my appreciation of her accomplishment to a dis-appreciation (is that even a word?), allowing Claire to express the opposite of what I feel. Claire would have fit in well with my professors at college. And I have seen their prejudice dramatically overturned.
And if someone in the History department ever speaks of my defiance of the academic structure, I will be quite happy to say, "Because she's still my girl."
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for your comment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!