Tag: War

In response to; dVerse- Poetics- Stormy weather, hosted this week by Andrew who set the rules , he said : today I would like you to find an issue in this troubled world that you are passionate or even angry about and, like activists painting their banners in advance of a march, produce a poem that emblazons your views in a poem to advance the cause. Optionally, you can begin your poem with a glose, or quotation from another poem. To go back to my opening question, why do we write poetry – amongst all the other reasons, such as celebrating nature, love and inspiration, when we take up poetic arms in any cause, we are trusting that “the pen is mightier than the sword!”

Andrew asks us to use the Spanish form called the Glosa or glose, in which the poem begins with a four line quote from the work of another poet’s poem and one or more lines from this glosser or gloasador, may be used as a refrain. Optionally,I would like your poem to begin in this way although you are free to follow the glosser with any poetic form of your choosing so I am choosing poems to inspire you but feel free to reach for any poem of your choosing. If you want to follow the full Glosa form – you can find it here.

I have chosen: High Flight is a 1941 sonnet written by war poet John Gillespie Magee Jr. and inspired by his experiences as a fighter pilot of the Royal Canadian Air Force in World War II. Magee began writing the poem on 18 August, while stationed at No. 53 OTU outside London, and mailed a completed manuscript to his family on 3 September, three months before he died in a training accident. Originally published in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, it was widely distributed when Magee became one of the first post-Pearl Harbor American casualties of the war on 11 December, after which it was exhibited at the American Library of Congress in 1942. Owing to its gleeful and ethereal portrayal of aviation, along with its allegorical interpretation of death and transcendence, the poem has been featured prominently in aviation memorials across the world, including that of the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster. Information Wikipedia.

High Flight

“Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air….

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
– Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.”

I cry everytime I read it. Sadly the world has learnt nothing.

Seriously Another Year.

Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
– Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.”

Death sat alone in an empty pub, everywhere he went this happened, he’d come in everyone else would leave. Such a shame he thought sipping his pint and watching it drip right through to the carpet….. so embarrassing!

The door flew open with an almighty gust of wind blowing in dust and tumble weed, very unusual for Brixton. Three hooded and cloaked figures entered “Hey man this is a step up from that coffee bar we met in last time” shouted Plague as he sat down and picked up the lager death had ordered for him on the pub app. “How have you been ” asked Death.

“Actually I have been so busy, as busy as you mate, yup it’s been a great couple of years! “

Famine sat down to his Guinness, the food on his plate turn to mush as he breathed on it. “Cheers Death I’m starving and parched.”.

Death nodded as War came in the sound of fighting and gunshot could be heard from the street, hi big man I’ve been busy too handy with Plague here, grabbing all the headlines I can do loads of damage.

Death moved his sythe and war jumped up waiving an AK-47 at him, Death gave him a withering look and said, “Don’t threaten me, you’ll only come off worse! ” War sat down.

“Tell me” asked Famine whose poked Mother Nature she’s in a foul mood, floods, fires, earthquakes, record hurricanes and tornadoes, not to mention climate change. Is she joining us today. ”

“No” Death replied “She’s too busy fighting back, sick of these humans leaching off of her. She sent you her regards Plague and says you’re doing a great job.”

The unfortunate barman came across to the table when Death beckoned to him, “Another round young man and packet of crisps for my friend Famine here! “

The barman, was all at once exhausted, ready for a fight, starving and showing all the main symptoms for covid, returned to the bar and poured these oddly unquieting customers their drinks. As he came back he tripped on Famine’s shopping nearly spilling the drinks. ” Mind the toilet rolls ” Famine snapped. The other three turned and looked at him and as one asked “Seriously”

As they left the barman collapsed, a riot broke out on the streets of Brixton, all the food shops, even Waitrose had their shelves cleared by starving people. Death sighed and set to collecting the dead , a never ending task which pained him. Suddenly his mobile rang

“Hello God here, I see you are all there”

“Yes we’ve been here a while Sir.”

“I know, I suppose you want an apocalypse now?”

“Not really Sir”

“Well you’re not really giving me much choice are you?”

“And a happy New Year to you too Sir”

Death turned his phone off and headed back to the pub, when he arrived it was packed . Death looked up to…..

Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
– Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.”

The above video may be about Syria but it is appropriate to every theatre of war in the world today.