Tag Archives: comfort in tragedy

John Gallas ‘A Comforting Sonnet’

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‘Caring means a whole new world’ – Croatian Proverb

Rosa Horvat’s hound attacked my legs.
My toes went green. I had a dizzy fit.
They took me to the hospital in Split.
The wards were all full up, so Uncle Dregs
sat by my trolley till he went to work,
then Erno, who’s my mum’s half-brother’s son,
pushed me up and down the hall for fun,
until his grandad’s nephew, who’s a Turk,
came and told me jokes. I wet the bed.
Then someone in a helmet held my hand
and sang a song I couldn’t understand.
Then it was morning, and I wasn’t dead.

I’m home now. Hvala vam if you were there.
Or not. Or sometimes. Friends are everywhere.

*****

Hvala vam – thank you all (Croatian)

John Gallas writes: “As with Camaguey – same collection, the proverb this time being as the little epigraph says. I particularly wanted here a certain tone: I am not a my-thoughts/my-feelings/interesting me sort of poet, and write mostly objective tales, descriptions, experiences that contain anything ‘I’ might want to say. A firm believer in show-not-tell.
“This one has won a couple of prizes: I regularly enter competitions, testing my poems anonymously before judges from The Cats’ League to National Poetry Society. This one won the ‘Caring’ section of a national competition. They liked the ‘humour-and-kindness’ of it all – which pleased me, as that was exactly the tone-intention.
“Wee note: I often set poems – I have travelled much – in various lands and cultures: I have been in trouble for this (my Maori friend, Vaughan Rapatahana, just said ‘Don’t’ when I embarked on some Pacific Island tales-in-verse) but as a Man With No Culture (white NZer?) I feel free to roam, creatively, as long as certain sensitivities are observed. (I have a complex theory as to objection/offence as far as cultures go, but I’ll leave that for now). ‘The Song Atlas’, my best-selling Carcanet book, was a translation of one poem from every country in the world.”

John Gallas, Aotearoa/NZ poet, published mostly by Carcanet. Saxonship Poet (see http://www.saxonship.org), Fellow of the English Association, St Magnus Festival Orkney Poet, librettist, translator and biker. Presently living in Markfield, Leicestershire.
Website is http://www.johngallaspoetry.co.uk which has a featured Poem of the Month, complete book list, links and news.

Photo: John Gallas, Carcanet official photo

Using form: Heterometric verse: Susan McLean, ‘Teaching to the Test’

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I know you have no use for them,
poems with their sly quicksilver words
that won’t just speak their minds,
but carom through your head like startled birds.
Is that despair or longing in their cries?
Their dolors make no sense.
They’ll never buy you larger-screened TVs
or seats at sports events.

But someday, as you watch a pair hold hands
and leap from a burning tower,
as you wait for test results or hear
your phone ring at an unaccustomed hour,
what you feel will circle wordlessly—
tense, accusing, gaunt.
You’ll find that you are tested and found wanting,
and these are what you’ll want.

*****

Susan McLean writes: “As a professor myself and a person who once worked on writing standardized tests, I am familiar with the complaint of teachers that they are often forced to “teach to the test,” i.e., teach only the sort of knowledge and skills that students need for passing that sort of test. But as a poet, I know that we are tested in life in all sorts of ways. Most people think that they can get through life just fine without poetry. They tend to find poetry annoying and impenetrable, something that needs to be decoded, that has no practical use. Yet in tragedies, when all hope and comfort are gone, there is some comfort in hearing that others who have been in similar situations were able to put into words the feelings that you can’t. And the most memorable and condensed of those responses are often poems.
This poem is rhymed and metrical, but the lines are of different lengths in unpredictable patterns, a form called “heterometric,” and the rhymes occur only every other line. That unpredictability is meant to mirror life, in which the bad news always seems to come out of nowhere. The poem originally appeared in Able Muse and later in my second poetry collection, The Whetstone Misses the Knife.”

Susan McLean has two books of poetry, The Best Disguise and The Whetstone Misses the Knife, and one book of translations of Martial, Selected Epigrams. Her poems have appeared in Light, Lighten Up Online, Measure, Able Muse, and elsewhere. She lives in Iowa City, Iowa.
https://www.pw.org/content/susan_mclean

Photo: “When Young Children ‘Hate’ School” by wecometolearn is licensed under CC BY 2.0.