Each of the stanzas of this poem has the physical structure of a haiku. Though not a proper haiku (not least because there are no ‘season’ references, with the possible exception of lambs – Spring? – I don’t think so! There are no ‘Kiru’ either). Anyway, I like the way the form forces you to be pithy; there’s even less room for unnecessary words than in other poetic forms.
There is also, as you might expect, a portion of poetic licence … metaphor and allegorical reference. I have deliberately avoided punctuation until the last stanza, the punch lines, which are less equivocal. In consequence, there are different ways in which this poem can be read. According to the way in which it is read, its interpretation can change, albeit sometimes subtly. Feel free to tell me about your interpretation. Otherwise, I’m happy to allow knowledge of your personal understanding to join the many other sweet mysteries of life.
The Conference of Parties 2023 (COP28), full of promising opening statements has built its customary, dare I say, stage managed momentum towards another inevitable conclusion. This was 14 long media eventful days, bookended by an even longer closing 24 hours of negotiating the final agreement, laced with yet more promising closing statements. This was followed by a standing ovation and what felt like the kind of stage managed euphoria that would not be out of place at the Oscars. Moreover, it wouldn’t happen without caffeine (and who knows what substances and other encouraging mob-like influences), to lift by then flagging spirits.
Picture credit: Max Mitrofanov (via tr1umph.deviantart.com)
Representation by all the nations of the World along with all interested parties, there is no doubt that the huge presence of fossil fuel companies and lobbyists, far too many of which in the employ of or with a direct interest in oil, gas and petrochemical industries, as well as those who use vast amounts of their byproducts, far outweigh those nation states, whose more immediate futures are far less bright as a consequence of climate change. Shadowy figures walk the corridors of power with their barely concealed agenda, act as a powerful lobby along with those whose interests lie in retaining their grip on political control. Our future is unfolding before our very eyes; all the multifarious outcomes resulting from a confluence of the consequences of all the bad decisions that we ever made in our lives, seem like they are coming back to haunt us.
Now mightn’t that be a good place to start; in the future. The future of our children, their children and … so on ad infinitum (or not). That might well be a story with a happy ending or one that is severely truncated! But that all depends on what we do now; what we honestly, in reality, actually do; what we commit to doing in order to persuade those in control, like our elected governments, our local representatives who have a say on our behalf, making decisions that will truly change things for the better; making scientifically informed decisions, whose benefits will only be felt beyond the next few political elections and make a difference for all our future lives.
So. The future. Our legacy for future generations. Whilst we still have some democratic influence on the aforementioned administrators of our government(s). As we write our last letters home to our descendants. What substance will our manifesto contain? Where can we start? Perhaps with a heartfelt apology for being a part of that generation of people, who have benefitted from post war prosperity, but nonetheless overseen the rise of the super powerful multinational corporations, the super rich, whose goals are to chase increasingly vast profits and shareholder values, is accompanied by geopolitical goals that give them the wealth and power that bring significant influence on government policy.
“ You don’t get rich by spending your own money. “
All of this has accompanied a concurrent deterioration in all facets of our environment, for which all of us must bear some responsibility. Post war (that is WW2) generations have overseen and contributed, even if only in very small part, individually, but nevertheless unwittingly to the mess the world now faces, for which it is those seekers of the greatest wealth and power who must carry the lion’s share of responsibility.
This morning I stepped out into our back garden, partly in need of some fresh air and partly because I could hear through a double glazed back door, with a light rain drumming on the roof, the muffled sound of a choir of voices. In another hundred years or so, will human ears still be able to hear this one of many of nature’s gifts? Will they have been silenced by extinction, or will it be like the tree that fell in the forest … that no one could hear, because there was no one there to hear it?
Based on a true story of clever girls; twins, each of whom was asked to invent a new word, by spelling their name backwards, define it and make a model of it in plasticine!
Recorded and Produced by WildSound Narrated by Val Cole
[Chess was a collie, rescued in late 2018 by my youngest daughter, suffering a certain degree of neglect, in a poor state of health and not expected to survive beyond Christmas. Supreme loving care, especially by my vet nurse daughter and her veterinary friend, brought her through it to live a full, albeit occasionally faltering, couple of years and helped all those, who knew her, come to appreciate what a character she was. She has become a bit of a legend. This dedication is as much to my daughter as it is to the character of Chess.]
For all those who knew Jamie Dedes, who may ever have encountered her humanity, who may ever have written an essay, a poem, created a piece of art for inclusion either in her personal blog, ‘The Poet by Day’, or the ‘BeZine’, the team here at the BeZine would like to invite you to offer something for inclusion in the forthcoming special December edition of this publication, which Jamie founded and remained as its Editor in Chief until her much lamented death early in November. The BeZine is published quarterly on themes, which reflect its mission to foster Peace, Sustainability and Social Justice regardless of your race or creed, regardless of whether you are advantaged or disadvantaged. To Jamie, all creatures on Earth had the same value, the same right to life. The up and coming December edition has in recent years been devoted to the ‘Life of The Spirit’ and Activism.
That will continue in next month’s issue of the BeZine, presenting its usual array of creative contributions true to theme, but will also exceptionally include a special section devoted to Jamie. The BeZine editorial team will be accepting contributions from all those, who wish to show their appreciation of her, in any way you feel appropriate.
If you have something you’d like to send us, please email your submissions to thezinesubmissions@gmail.com, with the words “for Jamie” in the Subject line. Please also send your submissions as attachments to your email. The deadline for submissions is close of the day, Sunday 6th December.
United we stand, divided we fall.
Together we rise. Alone, we hear only the call
from sirens of an alternative kind of destiny,
where attention seeking soldiers of fortune,
their collegial architects and faceless shadows
construct a new order, birthing the unfamiliar,
wrapped in a matrix of the convincingly familiar.
A weeping iconic mater outwardly gestures
her loving hands and offers lessons learned
by a handmaid and her tale of forced labour
and social media generating artificial facts
of incontestable statistical intelligence, promising
to remove uncertainty from uncertain lives
to offer security in a profoundly insecure way.
Yet the still small voices of independent thought,
unafraid of consequence, reality, insecurity or pain,
continue to echo the inspiration of she, who reasons
encouragingly and compassionately against
the harbingers of our future decline, against
the pornography of privilege and wealth,
against the deniers of equitable, sustainable life.
These voices will endure, like those refreshing waters
of a spring that flows from deep inside humanity.
Underneath the radar of the darker web of lies,
they carve in stone the undeniable truth of history.
[Jamie Dedes, founder and editor in chief of the BeZine, formerly ‘Into The Bardo’, for over ten years, has stepped down from the roll because of failing health and, in her words, feeling too exhausted from the effort required to maintain the project. Instead she has characteristically shown her faith in the team she has built up, encouraged, nurtured and, above all, imbued with her own enthusiasm for the BeZine’s mission of promoting Peace, Sustainability and Social Justice, through the medium of the written word and all-coming art forms. She invited me to get involved in 2012, it seems like an age ago! I have never regretted a moment and further, I often wonder where my motivation would have come from, to write and achieve more than I would have given myself credit to achieve. This is my humble attempt to show my appreciation for her influence on me, alongside other stalwarts like Michael Dickel, who has agreed to take the tiller as Editor in Chief, and the other ten or so members of the core team, who have kept the faith. Not to mention countless guest contributors, all of whom have entered the spirit of a very, very worthy cause. This is as much a tribute to you as it is to Jamie. I salute you all.]
Barbershop is
a much misunderstood
musical force for good.
A kind of Westminster
without the politics.
Ambassadors without
the Ferrero Rocher. Zero8
with an ironically high score
a Hallmark of Success,
ringing true to their art,
on a journey without end
with songs of many parts
telling stories full of heart,
life’s tales of mixed fortune
that transcend all that stuff
and takes us from the rough
to velvet vocal grace, without
a single trace of discord
(except where intended).
What is? …
Barbershop is
singing unaccompanied
anywhere that you care
in the garden or the park
in the bar after dark or the
pub with some grub with a
pint if you’re dry, have a tear
in your eye for a love that is
lost … or one you’ve just won
whatever the cost. Barbershop
is the salve that, applied to the
ears, rolls away all the years
with ageless appeal and an
endless feel of vocal accord
that enables an equity of
beginnings and endings
and it pleases the Lord
with spirits ascending.
What is? …
Barbershop is
tearing up musical rules
whatever your vocal tools
it allows you to address
with rubato, or digress from
the score and, what is more
it sounds like the Lord
of the Rings hit the ground
on the seventh with a chord
like no other, made a sound
that will astound like you
heard a full orchestra set off.
Give it large. You’re the boss.
You’re in charge of the gang,
be they four or you hang with
dozens more, it’s just the same
this vocal game … Barbershop is.
[For good measure and, speaking of “The Boss”, as a mark of our intention to stick together whilst we cannot be together, here is what we ‘performed’ at the BABS Live event last night, a new song that we haven’t performed together, but learned, rehearsed and performed (via skilfully multi-tracked individual audio recordings, woven with video cameo performances from us all, by our maestro MD, Tim Briggs) … Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in The Dark“. Metaphorically speaking, this seems quite an appropriate title.]
A diaphanous veil of mist had settled
sensuously in the valley below.
The upper edge of a jigsaw wall,
its silhouetted frame that lay
beneath a cloud streaked blue, was
stark and sharp as the frozen chill
of air that nipped the ears, and
brought a tear to a rose red nose.
Under foot, a thin and brittle crust,
a chocolate crisp contained inside
a creamy, sweet and treacly core,
challenging the boots that tread,
questioning their proof against a
threat of insidious infiltration, thence
a haunting memory of trench foot,
the spectre of necrotic consequence.
Trees, undressed and still as death,
conserve what little life remains
their fingers, skeletal signposts,
reach patiently for their renewal,
impossible as it may seem to be,
moist and cold, but like a phoenix,
their fertile ashes hoping for a
chance to come again one day.
~~~
Once more, the late Spring’s vivid scenes
of sporting courts and verdant greens.
Once more, the early call of song,
the golden warmth of a rising sun
Once more, the vibrant purple haze
of August’s bounteous flowering days.
Once more October’s golden crown.
“Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” ~ John Donne (1572-1631) from Meditation XVII
~~~~~
Photo: Sarah K L Langeveld (all rights reserved)
My grandpa is quite old, I think he’s seven
One day, I’m told that I’ll be this old too
in between I know that I should be
mindful of the bell that rings for you
diminishing the life that’s meant for me
So I should make the best of every day
and follow conscience’ dictate as I go
be grateful for my blessings on the way
and, like my body, know my mind can grow
To know that all about me is my heaven.
~~~~~
The idea for the title of this poem came from Patience Strong’s Collection of poetry, “Yesterdays and Tomorrows”, part of The Patience Strong Treasury. I believe John Donne intended that his brief essay, entitled “Meditation XVII” – whilst it may have sounded very doom-laden in the context of its time – should also be a celebration of life. But, as a preacher, particularly at the turn of the 16th century, he was bound to preach to his congregations, as well as the audiences for his poetry, of the importance of appreciating what you have, whilst you have it.
The lovely photograph, taken by my niece, was one of many from my recent 70th birthday party, arranged as a complete surprise by my three children and my niece. It was a very special evening.
Gloaming – Drawings, Paintings, Poems
A remarkable book of paintings and drawings by Melaneia Warwick accompanied by ekphrastic poems, written by the incredible Peter Wilkin
PoetJanstie
My Poetry Library 