Moon Poetry

In my tenth year of teaching, I have come right round to where I began when it comes to poetry: bemusement. Not bemusement at poetry itself – though that, plenty of times – but to the bemusement of my old English teacher, Lockey. I have come round to his bewilderment as to why we – his ignorant, foolish students: you who think you know so much – why we don’t read poetry. Not because we are told to, but because we want to; because we should.

In Defence of… the Arts

One of my first teaching interviews was with a headmaster who was deaf and bald and swished about in a Harry Potter-style academic gown. Perusing my CV, he said, “So, an MA in Performance. That was rather a waste of time, wasn’t it?” Deciding that you no longer care about the outcome of an interview does give you a greater degree of freedom to speak your mind. So, for several minutes, I hammered into this man a very angry defence of the importance of theatre and drama and the Arts in society.

Poetry Doesn’t Help: Action is Needed

“Aylan Kurdi, the Syrian child who drowned and washed up on Turkey’s shores, has inspired volumes of poetry and sympathy. But words and tears will not help the people of Syria. Actions are needed by all governments – including ours – which considers itself the leading force in the free world.”

The headline of this Op. Ed. piece from The Arab-American News of March 9th, 2015, is this: “POETRY DOESN’T HELP. ACTION IS NEEDED.”

Poetry doesn’t help.

I can understand why people think this is true. I often think this is true. Poetry has never directly saved a life. A sonnet has never resuscitated someone from death. A haiku has never been the root cause for the passing of legislation that protects human rights. Wars don’t stop because a poem rhymes, or doesn’t rhyme, or has 5 beats in a line, or 4 , or 6.

“Poetry is useless,” writes Anders Nilssen; “beautiful and pointless,” adds David Orr.

BUT.

On seeing “Richard II Landing at Milford Haven”

“Richard  Landing at Milford Haven (After Shakespeare)” is a painting by Richard Hamilton, displayed at the John Soanes Museum in London. In 1399, Richard II landed at Milford Haven from Ireland, shortly before his surrender to Henry of Lancaster, afterwards Henry IV.

 

Your faith’s misplaced. I here disown

those expectations you have grown

that tried to make me more than man.

I cannot be but what I am.

I bear your crown. I am alone.

 

Yet we keep going – how, we do not know

 

We slip of half-formed men confront our woe:

Six thousand thousand lifetime’s loss portrayed.

Yet we keep going – how, we do not know.

 

Warm truths you sent to cheer? These, we forego:

Our countless hours loom silent as the day.

We slip of half-formed men confront our woe.

Family Life: Snapshot

The final section of the “Family Life” articles in The Guardian is “Snapshot”, in which people write in and share with the readers the story behind a photo that means something to them. There was only ever one contender for consideration for the photo that means the most to me.