So my wife made me a poetry scrap book – inspirational titles collaged into a notebook. I’m planning to investigate a different poetry form each day, and try to produce something vauely relevant to the titles she has proposed. So this offering is not an indication of my current state of mind…
The poetry form is a Glose, or Glosa – a Spanish form which takes a famous quatrain, and uses each line as the end line in a 10-line stanza, traditionally with four such stanzas. Oh, and alternating line rhymes and rhyming ending couplets…
My prompt was ‘Pain’ and the quatrain I’m quoting is by W.H.Auden, from ‘Funeral Blues’:
"The stars are not wanted now; put out every one Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood For nothing now can come to any good."
So with apologies to any purists out there, here goes…
Investing in ultimately impossible dreams Grasping at any likely-looking hand-hold But nothing is quite what it seems Solid ground and certainties get old To get back up and sportingly finish the race Brush off broken bones and worse A smile worn in deceit upon my face Too bone-tired to even utter a curse There's nothing left, the will is gone The stars are not wanted now; put out every one This joyride careers to its inevitable end How likely that I choose to ride again? No dusting off now, it's too broken to mend Walk away and refuse to play, what then? Melancholy drains the colour from flowers Insipid greyness pervades every corner Climbing down from crumbling ivory towers The spirit and demeanor of a mourner Nowhere now to hide, nowhere to run Pack up the stars and dismantle the sun The sweetest melody transcribes to dirge The simplest plan failing at birth No desire, no hope, no future, no urge Unimaginable that anything could have worth This is beyond defeat and giving up A withdrawal from a reality too hard Take from me this bitter cup Pluck from me this broken shard Nothing can change this, and nothing should Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood Slowly dawning consciousness reveals its trick Here again this never-ending now The joke's not a good one; the joke is sick This has to stop, but I can't see how Another pointless drawing of breath For what purpose do I fuel this soul? No solution offers less permanent than death Nothing matters, existence an empty whole I wouldn't stop this now, even if I could For nothing now can come to any good
The moment has come when things just might
Change for the better, turning real
Dreams of unity appeal
Turn back the clock, re-think
Draw back from the brink
Breath in deeply
Nod meekly
Smile
And now
See just how
A consensus
Might well just save us
From silly, petty fears
And our superior sneers
Enough now of these divisions
It’s time to make better decisions
Our futures might indeed lie together
Let’s face them with proud unity, whatever