I had intended on posting these daily, however sometimes life takes over the best meant plan.
I have written a poem each day, as I committed to – none of them are really great, one I’ve really struggled with, partly because I was busy, and partly because the ideas just wouldn’t organise themselves into a decent poem. I’ve covered three topics: politics, society, and family (well I can honestly say my interest in sociological topics does in no way affect my writing – okay I can’t say that).
Like I said, none of them are really great, but I don’t think any of them are really terrible. Got to keep it up though, I would love to think that come June 1st, I’ll be confident of my own abilities again, also it’s good to know, even though I can’t write a story (in the traditional sense), it doesn’t affect my ability to write poetry.
What I’m going to do, under the ‘Read more’ link is display each poem, and after each one give a a few lines of explanation. If you care to read some of my practice poetry, feel free, comments are always good, if you want to be critical, that’s great – this is practice after all.
Thursday’s poem
Be Afraid
Be afraid,
Terrible things to lament,
Dawn raid,
Terrorising the different,
Dark shade,
Petty criminals in goverment,
End made,
Fabric of tyranny rent,
He bade,
A hero comes, power is lent,
Be afraid.
© Jonathan L. Lawrence, May 2009
Now, I admit, this poem does meander a bit, however it only seems that way. It’s easy to believe that Labour are responsible for draconian measures alone, that is them we need to be afraid – the point of this short peace (written in the wake of the expenses scandal), is that these issues are cross party. The Tories, and the Lib Dems haven’t really lived up to their billing as opposition, they don’t balance the power system out, instead they score political points over less important things, and usually just follow the Labour party, in the hopes of gaining some sort of slip stream. Only when the horse has bolted, do they give any appearance of countering the ruling party.
As to the hero, well the hero is no better than the villain he replaces, because he is already one of them. I don’t believe democracy is always like this, or will be like this – but I fail to see, from the current crop of choices, any serious difference, certainly not for the better.
Friday’s poem
The Tempestuous Man
The Tempestuous Man stood bellowing,
All the wrongs of his life,
Sat huddling amid the strife.
The Tempestuous Man began demanding,
Unparalleled respect,
From the political sect.
The Tempestuous Man started deflating,
When he saw the frown,
That would bring him down.
The Tempestuous Man was moaning,
As the last dagger struck,
Rending his future unstuck.
© Jonathan L. Lawrence, May 2009
If you don’t know the workings of British politics so well, you might not get this – however in the lower house of parliament, we have what is known as the “speaker”, he controls proceedings, and technically statements are presented to him. He has no real power outside the chamber, but inside the chamber he his responsible for the proceedings. Our current Speaker is one Michael Martin, an odious little twat, who I felt was a mistake at the time of his appointment, and still is to this day. There have been some humourous moments, but mostly aimed at him, rather than with him. He’s litigious, believing that his solicitors Carter Fuck (or properly known as Carter Ruck), then there’s giving carte blanche to the police to search parlimentary offices (well one office), which he let his juniors take the blame for. I have no respect for him, and with several ministers arguing he should step down, and a vote of no confidence over how he has handled the expenses controversy (his handling is to be expected, but clearly far from justified, since he’s already been stung in the past by leaks of inappropriate use of expenses). Anyway, this poem is about that self same man, for whom trouble is something he seems to attract to himself.
Saturday’s poem
Our Heroes Chased
The State of the modern world,
Is always one of exigeny,
All of our problems seem to need action now,
Never later,
Yet for all media’s commentaries no knows how,
Trapped by our own hesitancy,
Our state remains unchanged.
All our greatest heroes are chased,
We embrace their abandonment,
Our problems collectively dumped on them,
Never support,
As if we aren’t the cause, they are the stem,
But when things are tough we expect their commitment.
© Jonathan L. Lawrence, May 2009
This is the poem I really struggled with, it was a nice idea, the first verse sets the scene for the reason of the poem, kind of self explaining where I’m coming from. I did want to add a third verse, kind of a consequences of our actions,what happens when our heroes abandon us, as we abandon them. However, my mind kept going down apocalyptic routes, which wasn’t exactly where I wanted to go – the world lives on without heroes, it’s just a far less interesting, and safe world to go on in.
Suffice to say, it ended on two verses, losing a little bit of the beginning, middle, and end structure – but, it kind of works, I mean it’s about the state of the world today, not tomorrow, it’s where we are.
Sunday’s poem (today)
Family Grace
I was born into a family of aspiriationalists,
My mother and father aspired to be,
They tried to make their dreams come true,
Made themselves into better people,
Changed their lots in life,
It didn’t last, but nothing does,
They still try though,
To see the other side,
The pay off for all that effort,
Things can’t always go there way,
But while I’m here, I’ll help them while I can,
Because, like them, I aspire to be,
More than sum of my parts,
I will always be the sum of my up bringing though,
Which has lead me all the way to here,
And one day it’ll lead me to where happiness lies,
Not from rags to riches,
Nothing to do with fame and fortune,
It’s the pleasant feeling,
That general sense of well being,
That comes from a job well done,
I hope they make it,
And that I do too.
© Jonathan L. Lawrence, May 2009
Not really sure anything needs to be said about this, for all their troubles, for all the trials they bring on themselves, I love my parents dearly – and they are an inspiration to me, they’ve supported me all my life, for which I will be eternally grateful. Without them, I wouldn’t aspire to be a writer, I wouldn’t aspire to be a better analyst, I wouldn’t have interests in matters sociological, theological, scientific, art and a myriad of other things they’ve supported me in over the years. I am the man I am, in all the best ways, because of them, and their aspirations. So this poem, is just a dedication to that, simple as.
Well that’s your lot for today, if you’ve found time to read them, I hope they weren’t too appalling to thine eyes, or boring of subject, or style. I’m actually quite happy with them, so much so, I wouldn’t begin to say which was my favourite.
Aspiring 