Sunday, 10 July 2011

AN ESSAY POEM

exercise 1.


BONES
By Charles Simic

Language comes to us through the energy
or emotion it creates on the page
like a painting of words that shows
us the path we are on towards the abstract reality. 
When I taught classes of creative writing
they called me Mr takeaway because I believe
that a poem contains baggage that we collect in life.  
The only way we shed that baggage and hold on to the experience
is to revisit that place at that time over and over again
even if visiting that place causes us hurt and grief.

Patrick kavanagh said ‘we rewrite our lives over and over again’,
I believe he caught love by a canal bank in Dublin. 
Read a poem like ’BONES ‘, by Charles Simic
and in just twelve lines he captures the whole history
of the eastern block and the second world war
and saying in the poem that everything must belong somewhere
and the only way that we can learn from these atrocities is to accept the grief.  
I believe what simic is saying that we cant keep hiding
in sentimemtality and stop burying our heads in the sand. 
The line that jumps of the page for me is that line,
‘what is joy to me is grief to others’.

The only way we can learn from the past
is through acceptance and understanding
even if that means stepping on the skulls of our ancestors. 
At the end of the day we all come from the same tiny gene pool
so lets un-pollute the waters of reason and not cloud our judgement. 
So we must dream below the roof of history and have the acceptance and understanding that the past really did happen and there is nothing we can do to right those wrongs.  Do you know that we as humans have never had one days peace on this earth ever, I believe we are getting closer to those words of Albert Camus,  ‘ we are all in this bloody century together and that should be argument enough to stop the killing’. I believe that by examining our past and reading great poets who have compressed history into the landscape of peace and stop the classical of a dog eat dog society.  We can not keep visiting the greek plays of violence and learn from a past written thousands of years ago that’s only answer is more war. We have got to stop this cycle of war and stop revisiting these crusades.  Its time to stop being little boys with toys that kill and give up the arms race I know we have to trust our neighbour but some nation has got to break the link and trust.  EMPATHY is a word that is missing from our vocabulary and yet it speaks what we want to say.  Since taking a stroke and being paralysed confined to a wheelchair I see an even greater divide.   The only way that we can build a path is through our acceptance of the past we cant keep ripping open old wounds and relive the hurt we’ve got to move on into an uncertain future but lets arm ourselves with the acceptance of reality.  Through reading the poems of masters like Simic who have compressed the past into a path of substance.  From the acceptance of a negative realistic reality comes a positivity he does not disturb the past he is saddened by the past creaking through his dreams but through acceptance this creaking can become a thing of beauty singing in the tulips of his world he feels the grief of his ancestors but he sees the dawn,wow.

Thursday, 7 July 2011




          'Loving everything that increases me'

                                                      Raymond carver




for Riley


OFF THE ROAD

A MELANCHOLIC SMILE’
                               tindersticks



I do not want to face the realisation of my condition
but seeing my grandson made me reflect on it. 
Like a child being born and in those early years
the mind forms into something that can grasp language. 
That’s the way I felt in intensive care when I woke
from my stroke trying to grasp the language of these words,
it was as if I was reborn an adult.  It feels like I’m compelled
to write down these feelings of loneliness and silence.  
As if I have to make sense of this scientific term locked-in-syndrome. 
They talk about the power of words but these words really
and truly saved my life it seems as if I’m an alchemist turning muck
into gold and I have found the moment between words.
Without god or some spiritual entity I’m creating a positive force
(these poems) as if my life depended on it.  As all good truth sayers say:
you have to look inside yourself and laugh at the horrors of life
as Bill Hicks said wherever truth love and laughter abide I’m there in spirit. 
I’m a beatnik in this beaten world.  This is my new city blues
my road trip of poems.









Barcode of light

The sun shoots in then blinks behind cloud
The day begins like summer mornings do.
I don’t know where this poem is coming from?
the reservoir of survival, a spiritual source?
No one knows I just know its magic
It gives me a purpose and just as I say purpose
The sun pierces my sight and the world
The light shines on my wheelchair
and it becomes my throne.

I am the king of this un-adopted castle
Nature throws its light on my soul
And I label it Buddhist, Christian or Pagan.
You can see why civilisations have worshipped it.
It has the power of an Adidas top or a 60-inch
Plasma screen an I-pod or Nike brand
but this trademark is free.