Canadian Mennonite
Volume 13, No. 19
Oct. 5, 2009


Artbeat

Book Review

A keen sense of the transcendent

Poiema.
By D.S. Martin. Wipf and Stock, 2008.

Reviewed by Joanne Epp

This is the first full-length poetry collection from D.S. Martin, whose chapbook, So the Moon Would Not Be Swallowed, appeared in 2007. Martin writes about poetry for publications such as Image and Faith Today, and is music critic for ChristianWeek and an occasional contributor to Canadian Mennonite’s Artbeat section.

Poiema is bookended by two poems that speak to the poet’s task. The first tells the story of Caedmon, the first known poet in English, who receives a vision commanding him to compose “a song of the creation of all things.” The final one, “Poiema,” takes its name from the Greek word translated “workmanship” in the well-known verse from Ephesians. It ends with the paradox that we are “His workmanship His poem/ & yet are oblivious to so much.”

The poems in between deal with a number of themes: biblical subjects; family history; nature. A few are responses to paintings; these show quite vividly how a viewer can be drawn into a work of art.

The poems in the third section, selected from Martin’s earlier chapbook, are among the best in the book. They are scenes from the lives of his grandparents, missionaries to China from 1923-51. Here, Martin has distilled the essence of their stories and tells the reader just enough to make a scene come alive.

In some poems Martin uses form to good effect; for instance, in “Routines and Recurrences,” the repeated lines reinforce the picture of an old woman losing her memory. “Villanelle” is a psalm of lament contained within a traditional French form.

Martin has a keen sense of the transcendent in the visible world. This comes through most effectively in “Cycling,” which contrasts the way “feet push pedals as thoughtlessly/ as they step” with the marvel of how the physical process actually works.

But overall, the book feels as if it needed more editing. Too many of the poems lack energy or focus; too often Martin explains when he should let the stories or images do the work. And there is too much that simply doesn’t make sense. Sometimes it’s a single line or phrase, but in one case it’s the basic metaphor of the poem that doesn’t work. This is a shame, because many poems in this collection do contain the kernel of something stronger. Hopefully, that promise will be realized in his future work.

Joanne Epp is a poet and reviewer living in Winnipeg.


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