Sweet sister death – dVerse Quadrille

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You never told me, father,

how to prepare for this journey,
dismissing your own war-wound,
saying ‘It’s nothing’.
I am bitter to my shattered bones,
staring into the chests of my comrades

my enemies,
spatchcocked like the chickens

cold-slabbed in your butcher’s shop window.


 

Hurrah! the dVerse pub has re-opened after the summer’s hiatus. We have a fantastic interview with Brian Miller, one of the  co-founders, to celebrate 5 years of dVerse. In much more sobering news, we have also learned that the lovely Viv passed away on 5th July. She was always very supportive of my work in her comments, so I am terribly saddened to hear of her passing. My thoughts, along with everyone else’s, go to her family and loved ones at this time.

Tonight, we are hosted by the lovely Grace, who has invited us to write a quadrille – 44 words, no more, no less. I love the form, it really makes me work to get my meaning across.

I watched a documentary on BBC iPlayer about the poet David Jones, who’s epic poem  about the First World War, ‘In Parenthesis‘ is considered to be one of the finest of its time, of all war poetry in fact. The title of my quadrille is taken from a phrase in Part 7 of his work, and my poem has been informed somewhat by him, and the subject matter of his work. If I had even an ounce of his talent, I would be delighted.

I’m a bit of a war poet fan, and although I had heard of him, I hadn’t read David Jones’ epic work. The documentary, which was both about him and his poem, has enthralled me and my family. I have ordered a copy of ‘In Parenthesis’ and am desperate to start reading it.

Anyway, please do hop on over to dVerse and take part if you can. Or just enjoy the work you find there!

Remembrance Day

I was not just enshrined in black and white
trained to react to a whistle
and launch myself over the top
I didn’t just stare at No Man’s Land
jumping at every falling leaf
nerves shot to pieces, trembling with fear
I was not just shipped hastily to Europe
attempting to aid our Allies
in facing down the Nazi machine
I was not just despatched to the Mediterranean
sand-whipped and sweating
to fight in a theatre far flung from home
I am not a romantic notion of old boys and idealism
telling war stories of camaraderie
I am not decades past.
I am the young man hobbling down the street
I am the hands held out for a bit of spare change
I am the woman bound to a wheelchair
I am the mental health patient facing down the day
I am sitting next to you on the bus.
I am here.
Remember, I am here.

****

Tomorrow is Remembrance Sunday here in the UK, and of course Monday is 11th November, Armistice Day.

Copyright - Nicola J Cutts

Copyright – Nicola J Cutts