MORGAN, (Colin) Pete(r)

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Nationality: British. Born: Leigh, Lancashire, 7 June 1939. Education: Normanton School, Buxton, Derbyshire, 1950–57. Military Service: British Army Infantry, 1958–63. Family: Married Kate Smith in 1965; one daughter and one son. Career: Freelance writer: creative writing appointments for Northern Arts, and at Loughborough University, 1975–77; also a television writer; member of literature panel of Yorkshire Arts, 1973–76, and Northern Arts. Awards: Scottish Arts Council bursary, 1969; Arts Council of Great Britain award, 1973. Agent: David Higham Associates, 5–8 Lower John Street, London WlR 4HA. Address: Moorsams House, Tommy Baxter Street, Robin Hood's Bay, North Yorkshire, England.

Publications

Poetry

A Big Hat or What? Edinburgh, Kevin Press, 1968.

Loss of Two Anchors. Edinburgh, Kevin Press, 1970.

Poems for Shortie. Solihull, Warwickshire, Aquila, 1973.

The Grey Mare Being the Better Steed. London, Secker and Warburg, 1973.

I See You on My Arm. Todmorden, Lancashire, Arc, 1975.

Ring Song. Gulfport, Florida, Konglomerati, 1977.

The Poet's Deaths. Manchester, North West Arts, 1977.

Alpha Beta. Ilkley, Yorkshire, Scolar Press, 1979.

The Spring Collection. London, Secker and Warburg, 1979.

One Greek Alphabet. Sunderland, Ceolfrith, 1980.

Reporting Back. Leamington, Warwickshire, Other Branch, 1983.

A Winter Visitor. London, Secker and Warburg, 1984.

The Pete Morgan Poetry Pack. Ilkley, Yorkshire, Proem, 1984.

Plays

Still the Same Old Harry (produced Edinburgh, 1972).

All the Voices Going Away (produced Ilkley, Yorkshire, 1979).

Screenplay (documentary): Gardens by the Sea, 1973.

Television Documentaries: Coming On Strong series, 1974; Here Comes Everybody series, 1975; Between the Heather and the Sea, 1982; A Voyage Between Two Seas, 1983.

Other

The Yorkshire Ridings, paintings by John Tookey. London, Gordon Fraser, 1987.

Editor, C'mon Everybody: Poetry of the Dance. London, Corgi, 1969.

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The first words in Pete Morgan's introduction to his anthology C'mon Everybody: Poetry of the Dance are "Plato said it—'The dance is god-like in itself. It is a gift from heaven.'" These words also describe Morgan's poetry at its best. As his poems bound along, or dance, with effortless ease and as they present their innocent pictures of knights, stallions, "the bull with the rumpus horn," and my Moll and partner Joe, the impression is of something given, not made. His poems seem to be immediately original without any special seeking after difference, yet their origins are evident. They begin in the world of nursery rhymes, which have a known audience they captivate. Morgan's poems also have an audience, or rather many audiences, which respond to his excellent readings. Some of the poems are well suited for ballad-style music settings. Yet, despite the immediacy of communication and the surface simplicity of the poems, beneath is a psychological curiosity and a sharpness of perception that reveal that the poet has not sold out his intelligence.

"The White Stallion" begins with

There was that horse
   that I found then
   my white one
big tall and lean as
   and mean as hell

The supple movement, the momentary halt in the penultimate line, and the unexpected drive of the last line is the work of a craftsman who has learned from, among others, Auden, though the last poems of Yeats have also been caught in Morgan's ear to his advantage. More significant perhaps is the use he makes of the commonplace "mean as hell." He rejoices in the lively vernacular phrase. There is so much delight in his first book, A Big Hat or What?, in such poems as "My Moll and Partner Joe," "Whoops! I nearly smiled again," "Elegy for Arthur Prance," and "My enemies have sweet voices," that the subtle tones and undertones may not be regarded.

By the mid-1970s a different poet, taking off directly from his physical environment, emerges to culminate in the singular appreciation of the life about him in "A Winter Visitor." The high style has been replaced by a reflective, conversational voice: "The first thin snow of winter / Settles our differences / And that's what's good about it." This is the norm in which Morgan takes account of Robin Hood Bay, its history and geology, a few of its people, and happenings such as the birth of a calf:

There's nothing giving! At her rump
The folds of skin are bloody, raw.
Her calf, still pinioned in that trap,
Sticks out a thick tongue, clea rs a snout
 
That sniffs and learns the smell of May.
Already ancient though not born
The brown eyes—wide intelligent—
Look into mine for something more
 
Than I can ever give to him.
Then like a curded milk he comes—
A slabby from a bottle' neck
Shuddering across the floor.

Despite the absorption into the intimate sensations of the birth, Morgan can still suggest the more detached, professional character of Shillah:

I start the engine, drive away,
Bucking on the ruts of earth,
From Shillah picking petty faults
With what looked marvellous to me.

There is a scrupulous honesty in Morgan's dealing with the facts. The continuity of nature is projected against the precariousness of human life: "We need to know just where we stand, what odds / Are stacked against us by which gods." His work ultimately shows respect and affection for the natural world and for its people, including his son, whom he teaches not to bring down the conkers from the chestnut tree with sticks but to wait for a "garnering and gathering":

From that ripe minute when they fell
Into my son's good sight and he
Comes singing home
From gentle harvesting.

This is an impressive achievement and a very taking one.

—George Bruce