One of the things that intrigues me is the way certain word endings fall into groups, evoke a common mood, sometimes seem to tell their own story. Some of these groups seem natural with overall positive “light, bright, flight, height, white” or negative “dusty, musty, fusty, gusty”; “bumble, crumble, grumble, fumble, stumble, tumble” connotations… but I acknowledge that with the first set I’m ignoring “blight, night, shite” and so on. Some seem random, especially perhaps when the different spellings suggest unrelated origins: “beauty, duty, fruity, snooty,” but still lead to a story.
Happily, I’m not alone in these idle thoughts. Melissa Balmain’s Tale of a Relationship in Four Parts comes to mind… and from Maz (Margaret Ann Griffiths) we have ‘The Drowning Gypsy’:
In memory of Alexei Navalny, killed at the IK-3 penal colony, 16 February, 2024.
1. Rough and chivvying cold winds blow The helpless dead leaves to and fro. Leaves have no say in where they go But we’re alive so can say no – Let us praise those men who show Resistance to the easy flow.
2. Navalny, prisoner in the snow, In numbing twenty-eight below, Has paid the price for saying no; He’s gone the way we feared he’d go.
That’s Putin, making sure all know That retribution comes in tow For those who won’t go with the flow. ‘All dissidents will finish so,’ The message is: ‘Go with the flow, Or you too could end on Death Row.’
I imagine his warders: Did they know A twinge of guilt at this, or show Regret or shame? I doubt it. No – Why should men let a conscience grow When they can just go with the flow? When life is so much easier so, When every television show, The papers and the radio All radiate a conformist glow Incessantly, so all men know Life’s comfier with the status quo. It’s only awkward sods say no, Go their own way, not with the flow. Those have a dangerous row to hoe, And who can blame the average Joe For on the whole deciding: ‘No, That’s not for me. I’d rather toe The line, collect my wages, know I’m safe and needn’t undergo What brave men have to suffer. No, Go with the flow, go with the flow.’
3. In Moscow brave girls risk a blow By laying flowers in the snow To honour him for saying ‘No’. Brave girls. I admire them so.
*****
George Simmers writes: “This poem began because our local Arts Festival announced its theme as ‘Flow’. Which made me grumble a bit: was I supposed to write stuff about how nice it was that rivers flowed? Not my style. But then I thought about people who go against the flow by saying ‘No!’ and that suggested a subject and a rhyme scheme. It was only after I’d scribbled a few possible lines that I came across a photo of young women in Moscow placing flowers in the snow as tributes to the murdered Russian dissident, Alexei Navalny. In some towns, such protestors had been arrested or beaten up by the police.
“It’s thirty-odd years since I visited Russia. That was at the time of perestroika and hopefulness. We had a contact in Moscow who took us to see the sights, including the Arbat, a popular meeting- place. He said: ‘Can we stop and talk here for a few minutes? I ask because a few years ago If I had been seen here in conversation with a foreigner, I should have been arrested.’ Freedom was precious then, but repression returned.
“Navalny was a lawyer who campaigned against the corruption endemic in Russian political life. In 2020 he was poisoned with Novichok (probably by the Federal Security Service) ; after hospital treatment in Berlin that saved his life, he returned to Russia, even though he knew of the dangers. He was immediately arrested, and ended up in an Arctic Circle corrective colony. The exact circumstances of his death still remain unclear, but while in prison he had suffered from malnourishment and mistreatment.
“Writing this poem I remember Auden’s words: ‘Poetry makes nothing happen.’ Auden pointed out that political poems make the writer feel better, but have no positive effect in the real world. He was right, as usual, which is why I mostly avoid writing poems about politics. But I don’t really see this as a poem about Navalny. I could have chosen to write about Alan Bates and his twenty-five year battle for justice for postmasters, or about Kathleen Stock and others, who opposed the dangerous ideology of the Tavistock clinic. Going against the flow matters everywhere, not just Russia. The form is monorhyme, mostly because that’s how the poem started, and it wasn’t too difficult to keep going. Monorhyme is easier than it looks, so long as you choose the right rhyme word to start with. Don’t try it with ‘month’ or ‘silver’.
“Nalvalny’s death made a news splash in February, but since then more recent horrors have displaced it on the news pages. So maybe this poem will do a little good as a reminder of a brave man. Thank you for re-blogging it.”
The poem will be part of the film ‘Wordflow’ (a film by John Coombes with a soundtrack of stories and poems by Holmfirth Writers’ Group in a continuous showing from 10am-4pm), presented at the Holmfirth Arts Festival in Yorkshire on Sunday,June 16th, upstairs at the ‘Nowhere’ bistro, Norridge Bottom, Holmfirth, HD9 7BB.
George Simmers used to be a teacher; now he spends much of his time researching literature written during and after the First World War. He has edited Snakeskin since 1995. It is probably the oldest-established poetry zine on the Internet. His work appears in several Potcake Chapbooks, and his recent diverse collection is ‘Old and Bookish’.
I ache to take your hand. My head says no – You’ll sway me, play me, then you’ll let me go. My heart says take a chance. Dance long and slow.
Which one (my head or heart) is in the know? Fazed by your blaze, I melt like sun-soaked snow. I ache to take your hand. My head says no.
Your wish, it heats the breeze. I hear it blow. Your beat thrums though my veins. I feel the flow. My heart says take a chance. Dance long and slow
Through moon-licked hues of blue as night skies glow And gleam in scenes that steal the bright-star show. I ache to take your hand. My head says no.
In dreams neath cream silk sheets you are the beau Who draws my lips and hips to yours and oh… My heart says take a chance. Dance long and slow.
But still my thoughts are skipping to and fro. The dos and don’ts won’t stop. They grow and grow. I ache to take your hand. My head says no… My heart says take a chance. Dance long and slow.
*****
Susan Jarvis Bryant writes: “I like to set myself challenges when writing poetry. I’m fascinated by French lyric poetry and love a good villanelle. My Muse couldn’t resist this challenge… it was a little tricky, but I enjoyed every minute of composition.” The poem was published in this month’s Snakeskin.
Susan Jarvis Bryant is originally from the U.K., but now lives on the coastal plains of Texas. Susan has poetry published on The Society of Classical Poets, Lighten Up Online, Snakeskin , Light, Sparks of Calliope, and Expansive Poetry Online. She also has poetry published in The Lyric, Trinacria, and Beth Houston’s Extreme Formal Poems and Extreme Sonnets II anthologies. Susan is the winner of the 2020 International SCP Poetry Competition and has been nominated for the 2024 Pushcart Prize. She has just published her first two books, Elephants UnleashedandFern Feathered Edges.
Outside the glittering air is bright, frost crystals glisten in the light, a bitter wind sharpens its bite, teasing a few stiff leaves to flight. It finds in restlessness a tight fierce chill, like muscles clenched to fight, needling uncovered skin with spite and then breathes out a cloud of white, a moment’s ghost, a shape so slight it freezes almost before sight has marked its passing. Snowflakes write their shaky message to unite cold’s elements in silver night.
*****
D.A. Prince writes: “This poem came together very quickly: the garden thick with frost and the idea of catching the vowel sound in ‘ice’ as a way of capturing the sharpness of the scene. A mono-rhyme, playing with this crispness, seemed the way forward. It was fun, and that’s an important element in poetry.” The poem was published in the February 2024 Snakeskin (issue 314).
D. A. Prince lives in Leicestershire and London. Her first appearances in print were in the weekly competitions in The Spectator and New Statesman (which ceased its competitions in 2016) along with other outlets that hosted light verse. Something closer to ‘proper’ poetry followed (but running in parallel), with three pamphlets, followed by a full-length collection, Nearly the Happy Hour, from HappenStance Press in 2008. A second collection, Common Ground, (from the same publisher) followed in 2014 and this won the East Midlands Book Award in 2015. HappenStance subsequently published her pamphlet Bookmarks in 2018, with a further full-length collection, The Bigger Picture, published in 2022.
Form in Formless Times 