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Response to the question of why people aren`t writing any war poetry

by Paul Isthmus 

Posted: 23 April 2007
Word Count: 341
Summary: Version 2


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I haven't been to war.
This morning I made love. The world is made
of tiny things,
her touch, our toast and cups of tea,
that first fresh breath as I step outside,
the old church, the sun, the swaying tree.

I don't want to write about the war
this early morning, when the house is quiet
and the world hasn't begun. I want to write about
- the way the cool, hazy mist
curves off the earth. I want to write about
that moment all the other ones define,
that moment I remember
when I remember making love.

What have I to say about the war?

The war is old news, my love is fresh.
Sun on the old church, across the green fields,
through its stained glass windows, dull from outside,
quiet font water reflecting on the roof.

The war's a new war, bombs are new bombs.
I watch the news again.
As I lift my cup
I see a tiny thing, a baby's body
coddled in hot dust and rags,

I hear a string of tiny words
with tiny meanings that I don't understand
but only feel, that together try to frame
the act of something bigger.

I hear a war of words, like bullets shooting down
our angels,
Saddam's hanging, and the breaking of his neck
and all the talk talk talk, the news
of broken mosques, the Berlin church collapse,
a bomb still in the belly of the earth, left from years ago.

Then it’s the weather, early mists breaking into sun,
Then some local piece about someone’s happy day
that should seem silly when I compare it to
those bloody rags, a poor effort to offset the war,
deep as a giggle, light as air,
offensive in its cheerfulness.
Is war not made of old stone and earth,
the weight of a library
crushing your chest like a bombed house?

How can it yield to this quiet morning,
to the breath of love that drives our histories,
to the beating of a pair of hearts?






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Comments by other Members



SmithBrowne at 08:28 on 24 April 2007  Report this post
Hi Paul,

I love the gentle energy of this piece; the fresh honestly of the voice -- I do feel like I'm sitting there listening to this voice on a wet morning sipping my cup of tea.

For me, because of the gorgeously precise long-line title, the poem really begins at line 6 with "I haven't been to war." What comes before is either covered in your title already or covered more succinctly and freshly in the lines that immediately follow. Line 6 seems such a kicker, a clean poetic statement coming right after the title. The only other thing that made me pause was the intermittent inerjection of end rhymes here and there in an otherwise free verse poem...?

The lines I found particularly striking were: "I haven't been to war. /
This morning I made love. The world is made"; "The war's a new war, bombs are new bombs."; "offensive in its cheerfulness. / Is war not made of old stone and earth,"; and "crushing your chest like a bombed house?" Just wonderful.

Best,

Smith

Nell at 17:14 on 24 April 2007  Report this post
Hi Paul.

It's good to read your work again. There's a lovely quiet and reflective feel about this, in spite of the intrusion of news of war into the narrator's morning. The couple's lovemaking and the introspection that implies, juxtaposed with the the horrors of war in the world 'outside' contrasts and intensifies the differences between the inner life of the poet and the world he has to return to. The underlying idea reminded me of a slogan in the sixties - 'Make love, not war.'

A few thoughts/impressions.

I agree with Smith about beginning the poem at:

I haven't been to war.


It leads so beautifully from the title and is immediately arresting.

I like the way the idea within the lines

The world is made
of tiny things,


is picked up later with the image of the baby, also the line break, which makes 'the world is made' an idea in itself - we don't know what's coming next.

A pause at: '...the old church sun...' a deliberate arrangement of words, yet I wasn't sure. Making the sun (son), belong to 'the old church' seems to hint at Jesus, and I'm not certain you intended that.

I puzzled over the lines below. The meaning seems elusive. You could think about losing the last line (which would also get rid of the end rhymes). See what you think.


I want to write about
that moment all the other ones define,
when I remember making love
- that dark and light combine.


I want to write about
that moment all the other ones define,
when I remember making love.



I'd be inclined to create a separate line for:

What have I to say about the war?


Its importance could be pointed up more than it is at the moment.

Likewise, those similar lines:

The war is old news...


The war's a new war...


seem important enough to be first lines of new stanzas. I feel, because of their similarity, that you're making a point, but see what you think.

Another pause at:

I hear a war of words, like bullets shooting down
the angels that turn into flaming wrecks,


I felt you could lose '...that turn into flaming wrecks...' which seems to make the simple shock of the image of angels being shot down with bullets into something from a movie or The Revelation. The rhyme with 'neck' would then disappear too.


I think you could look at trying to tighten the final stanza a little. Certain lines seem more powerful when stated more simply: eg. ‘heart’ is always a difficult word – so abstract and emotionally weighted that it sometimes seems to obscure meaning.

How can it yield to a quiet morning with her,
to the breath of love that ignites and drives all history
ready in my heart?


Perhaps something like:

How can it yield to this quiet morning
the breath of love that drives all history


Paul, the above are my impressions/thoughts only, as always, see what you think. There's a beautiful feeling of honesty in this poem - you have a talent for writing from the moment without tipping over into the sentimental. A memorable poem.

Nell.













joanie at 21:22 on 24 April 2007  Report this post
Hi Paul.

I find that I am wallowing in this despite myself; I try to be objective but I just love the feel of it.

I'm going to stick my neck out and say that, for me, the poem almost ends at line 6!

Having said that, I just love the images which follow....

This is deliciously refreshing and a poem to which I shall return.... I have returned, in fact!

I could itemise particular lines but I don't want to, really, because I enjoyed the whole so much.

Joan

Paul Isthmus at 15:23 on 25 April 2007  Report this post
Hi Smith, Nell and Joan, thank you for your comments, as usual very useful and spot on. I've made some changes, I think for the better - what do you think? Still unsure about the ending, but am happier overall. Good to be back!

Paul

Nell at 13:34 on 26 April 2007  Report this post
Hi again Paul,

Glad you found some of the above useful. I always find that leaving a poem for a while helps too.

Nell.


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