Poems That Make Grown Men Cry
Page 19
Here are a few of those poems that moved me most.
Wordsworth, ‘Surprised By Joy’
‘impatient as the Wind / I turned to share the transport – Oh! With whom. / But thee, long buried in the silent tomb . . . but how could I forget thee? . . . knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more.’ The terrifying paradox of remembrance.
Shelley, The Masque of Anarchy
The brutality of the title refers not to the anarchy of protest but to brutality of politicians who put it down. ‘Like Oppression’s thundering doom / ringing through each heart and brain / Heard of again – again – again.’
Rilke, ‘Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes’
Orpheus desperate to get her back. But as Colm Tóibín, who chose the poem, writes: ‘The dead will not come back, but the words will . . . filled with sad wisdom as the woman who was so loved will move into eternity, or nothing much, or perhaps nothing at all . . .’
Cavafy, ‘Ithaka’
Not a dirge of dire loss and sorrow, but a zestful, thrilling command to the spirit of living fully, from the sensual ‘may you stop at Phoenician trading stations’ (twenty-first century traditional arts-and-crafts markets?) ‘to buy fine things / . . . mother of pearl / . . . sensual perfumes’.
And on the serious side, ‘may you visit many Egyptian cities / to gather stores of knowledge’ (contemporary outer-space exploration centres!). While seeking fulfilment, ‘keep Ithaka always in your mind / Arriving there is what you are destined for.’ But what Ithaka gave you is ‘the marvellous journey. / Without her you would not have set out. / She has nothing left to give you now.’
Tagore, ‘Let My Country Awake’
In perhaps the most overtly political poem here, along with Shelley’s ‘The Masque of Anarchy’, Tagore brings private ethics alongside civic responsibility as he sees that his country, India, must rouse itself: to where ‘knowledge is free . . . the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls . . . the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit.’ The mind is led forward to the ‘heaven of freedom’. However, he conceives that heaven to be reached by the path of religious faith called upon. ‘Into that freedom, my Father, let my country awake.’
Auden, ‘In Memory of W. B. Yeats’
‘The day of his death was a dark cold day / . . . But for him it was his last afternoon as himself. . . . the words of a dead man. / When the brokers are roaring like beasts on the floor of the bourse . . . / And the poor have the sufferings to which they are fairly accustomed. / You were silly like us; your gift survived it all: the parish of rich women, physical decay . . .
‘Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.’ Mad Africa, mad world, does this for the great ones’ successors?
Brecht, ‘The Book Burnings’
‘When the Regime commanded that books with harmful knowledge / should be publicly burned and on all sides / oxen were forced to drag cartloads of books / to the bonfires, a banished / writer whose ‘books had been passed over . . . wrote a letter to those in power / Burn me! . . . Haven’t my books / Always reported the truth? . . . And here you are treating me like a liar / I command you: Burn me!’
I read this poem today in twenty-first-century South Africa, where the Protection of State Information bill is about to be adopted – here, another secrecy act about to become law moves Jack Mapanje, who chose the poem, to tears of ironic laughter.
Porter, ‘An Exequy’
‘When your slim shape from photographs / Stands at my door and gently asks / If I have any work to do / Or will I come to bed with you . . .’ Ian McEwan, who chose this poem, writes ‘now that Peter has gone and that deeply troubled marriage is a faded memory, this evocation of domestic intimacy, which is also a ghostly beckoning towards death, seems all the more poignant.’ For me, this poem could bring a man, fearful of such loss in his own life, close to emotional breakdown.
Bishop, ‘Crusoe in England’
Tactile imagery – so that on reading, this poem is with one’s flesh, a personal living experience. Crusoe’s island from the reversed loneliness of a different exile, in England: ‘My island seemed to be / a sort of cloud-dump. All the hemisphere’s / left-over clouds . . . their parched throats / were hot to touch . . . I often gave way to self-pity / “Do I deserve this? I suppose I must . . . Was there a moment when I actually chose this?”’ Then his desperate loneliness: ‘Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it / another minute longer, Friday came . . . / Friday was nice and we were friends / If only he had been a woman! / I wanted to propagate my kind.’ The power of the poet’s imaginative creation, as personalities of familiar emotional legends are here brought face-to-face, alive with our present.
Everyone who reads this collection will be roused: disturbed by the pain, exalted in the zest for joy given by poets, all the way from ‘Elegy’ to ‘eulogy to a hell of a dame’ to ‘An End or A Beginning’.
Acknowledgments
The editors wish to acknowledge the inspiration of the late Josephine Hart and her husband Maurice Saatchi, as well as William Sieghart and iF Poems in the UK, and Billy Collins in the USA, in their tireless efforts to bring poetry to a wider audience – just a few examples of trailblazers we very much hope to emulate with this anthology.
We profoundly thank Amnesty International for its enthusiastic partnership, especially Nicky Parker for her invaluable skills, alongside those of her colleagues Maggie Paterson and Lucy MacNamara in London and Carol Gregory and Suzanne Trimel in New York.
Margaret Jull Costa and A. S. Kline were kind enough to provide us with fresh translations of Spanish poetry. We are also grateful to Hyde Flippo and Terry Lajtha for their translations of German and French poems. Graham Henderson and Gabby Meadows of Poet in the City, London, were also encouraging supporters.
For help in locating or following up with contributors, or other such assistance, we are indebted to: Sven Becker, Cindy Blake, Carol Blue, Felicity Blunt, Mary Bly, Lucy Bright, Tina Brown, Ed Clarke, Rita Cruise O’Brien, Joe Dunthorne, Isabel Freer, Natalie Galustian, Heather Glen, Lars Knudsen, Damon Lane, Seb Loden, Jillian Longnecker, John Martin, Alex Moorehead, John David Morley, Kathy Robbins, Shira Rockowitz, Mary Jane Skalski, Joe Shrapnel, Anna Waterhouse, Jane Wellesley, and Catherine Williams. Many other friends, agents and their assistants have also gone to some trouble to help us along the way; we apologise for not naming them all here.
Alexander Hammond displayed considerable energy and persistence in hunting down copyright holders and negotiating on our behalves. For help in the home straight with this mammoth task, we thank Fred Courtright and Amanda Sumner. We are also grateful, as ever, to our representatives Gill Coleridge and Cara Jones of Rogers, Coleridge and White.
Dr Ad Vingerhoets, Professor of Clinical Psychology at Holland’s Tilburg University, author of Why Only Humans Weep, kindly fact-checked Ben’s preface on the mechanics of crying, which was also informed by Dr Tom Lutz’s incisive study Crying: A Natural and Cultural History of Tears.
All Holdens in both our lives have lent valuable support and assistance, especially Salome, George, Ione, Amanda, Sam, Ursula, Rosemary, and Joe. Particular thanks to Salome for her generous help with an unusually complex set of proofs.
We are especially grateful to Ian Chapman and Suzanne Baboneau of Simon & Schuster UK for their faith in the project from the outset, and to their colleagues Helen Mockridge, Rik Ubhi and Sarah Birdsey. Similar thanks go to Jon Karp, Michael Szczerban and their colleagues at Simon & Schuster US. Many writers on both sides of the Atlantic are familiar with the rapier-sharp verbal acumen of our commissioning editor Richard Cohen; we are pleased to add our names to the list.
Above all, we wish to thank our contributors for so generously giving of their time and energy not merely in sharing a poem that they cannot read without a tear, but in taking the trouble to explain why. We are also, of course, very much in the debt of the poets themselves, and will always remain so.
Amne
sty International
Poetry as an art form almost certainly predates literacy. Early poets must have performed their work, using the power of its tight structure, rhythms and cadences to stir their listeners, but also to lodge words in their memories. Poetry still touches hearts and minds, even in our digital world.
One of Amnesty’s first prisoners of conscience was the Angolan poet and doctor Agostinho Neto. He suffered terrible brutality at the hands of the ruling Portuguese authorities before becoming the first President of Angola. Like Neto, all poets rely on the human right to freedom of expression, but throughout history they have been amongst the first targeted by repressive governments, presumably because of their power to stir emotions and liberate ideas.
Being jailed, however, isn’t a great poetry deterrent. Many turn to it for comfort in the darkest of times. Guantánamo prisoners inscribed poems on polystyrene cups in the days before they were allowed paper. Malawian Jack Mapanje used his malaria tablets to write poems on the floor of his cell. Soviet prisoner poet Irena Ratuschinskaya scratched verses onto bars of soap with a pin or the burnt end of a matchstick, memorised them and then washed them off. Realising Irina was desperate for paper, her husband wrote her abusive letters that he knew would be delivered, concentrating his messages into a small square that left a large blank margin for her to write. Such was her desperation to express herself through poetry.
A particular characteristic of poetry is that its writers tend to pay minutely close attention to their subject matter. By using intimate details to express universal truths, they make us feel ‘that could be me’. As Melvyn Bragg says, ‘all great poems are about each one of us’. The poet’s insights are transmitted to the reader. It’s a two-way creative process that liberates and enlightens both parties, and it lies at the crux of why our human right to freedom of expression is so important. Tom McCarthy puts it well: ‘. . . how people struggle to connect with art. And how the artist struggles to connect with his audience and remain true to . . . well, the truth. Regardless of the side you play for, citizen or artist, the need to reach out, to connect, to feel, and to affect is so satisfying and so elusive.’
This anthology might be accused of sexism because it deliberately excludes women contributors. Others may mock the very idea of men crying over poetry. But this is another reason why we at Amnesty are interested in it. It directly addresses the assumption bordering on cliché that women are more emotional – weaker – than men. Yet the contributions are all written by successful, influential men (some with very tough images) who admit to crying. Many share deeply personal insights and experiences, all provoked by poetry. Their emotional honesty is a healthy contrast to the behaviour that most societies expect of men. We know that bottling up emotions can lead to aggression. More than this, gender stereotyping is dangerous because it represses ability and ambition, it encourages discrimination and it upholds social inequalities that are a root cause of violence. We hope that this anthology will encourage boys, in particular, to know that crying (and poetry) isn’t just for girls.
Writing poetry – or responding to it – happens because people care. And it’s our capacity for caring that underpins our human rights. Individuals who care have real power to make a difference. Amnesty International, now a global movement of some three million people, began because of one man’s outrage and his courage to do something about it. It was 1961 when the lawyer Peter Benenson read about two Portuguese students imprisoned for toasting freedom, was inspired to take action and called on others to join him. This anthology is emblematic of the human struggle to make a difference, and we at Amnesty are profoundly grateful to all the contributors. Most of all, we thank Anthony and Ben Holden for their generosity in sharing this project with us.
Please see how you can make a difference by contacting us at Amnesty.
Kate Allen, Director
Amnesty International UK
The Human Rights Action Centre
17–25 New Inn Yard
London EC2A 3EA
www.amnesty.org.uk
Amnesty International USA
5 Penn Plaza,
New York,
NY 10001
www.amnestyusa.org
Index of Contributors and Poets
Italic page numbers refer to works of poetry.
Abrams, J. J., ref1
Akunin, Boris, ref1
Alvarez, Al, ref1
Anonymous, ref1
Armitage, Simon, ref1
Ashbery, John, ref1
Ashley, Kenneth H., ref1
Auden, W. H., ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5
Baker, Nicholson, ref1
Beale, Simon Russell, ref1
Bei Dao, ref1
Berger, John, ref1
Bernstein, Carl, ref1
Berry, Wendell, ref1
Berryman, John, ref1
Bettany, Paul, ref1
Bishop, Elizabeth, ref1, ref2
Bloom, Harold, ref1
Bly, Robert, ref1
Bonneville, Hugh, ref1
Boyd, William, ref1
Bragg, Melvyn, ref1
Branagh, Kenneth, ref1
Brecht, Bertolt, ref1, ref2
Brooke, Rupert, ref1
Brooks, Gwendolyn, ref1
Buckley, Christopher, ref1
Bukowski, Charles, ref1
Callow, Simon, ref1
Carey, John, ref1
Carruth, Hayden, ref1
Cavafy, Constantine P., ref1
Cave, Nick, ref1
Chiyo-ni, Fukuda, ref1
Clare, John, ref1
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, ref1
Collins, Billy, ref1, ref2
Crane, Hart, ref1
Cooper, Chris, ref1
Curtis, Richard, ref1
Dawkins, Richard, ref1
Dennis, Felix, ref1
Dickinson, Emily, ref1
Dorfman, Ariel, ref1
Douglas, Keith, ref1
Dunn, Douglas, ref1
Edgar, David, ref1
Éluard, Paul, ref1
Evans, Harold, ref1
Eyre, Richard, ref1
Faulks, Sebastian, ref1
Fellowes, Julian, ref1
Fenton, James, ref1
Firth, Colin, ref1
Fisk, Robert, ref1
Follett, Ken, ref1
Ford, Richard, ref1
Forster, Marc, ref1
Franzen, Jonathan, ref1
Fry, Stephen, ref1
George, Terry, ref1
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, ref1
Graham, W. S., ref1
Graves, Robert, ref1
Haddon, Mark, ref1
Hamid, Mohsin, ref1
Hardy, Thomas, ref1, ref2, ref3
Hare, David, ref1
Harrison, Tony, ref1
Hayes, Terrance, ref1
Heaney, Seamus, ref1, ref2, ref3
Hiddleston, Tom, ref1
Hitchens, Christopher, ref1
Hollinghurst, Allan, ref1
Housman, A. E., ref1, ref2
Humphries, Barry, ref1
Ibsen, Henrik, ref1
Irons, Jeremy, ref1
Jacobson, Howard, ref1
James, Clive, ref1
Jarrell, Randall, ref1
Jones, James Earl, ref1
Jonson, Ben, ref1
Joyce, James, ref1
Kapoor, Anish, ref1
Kaixi, Wuer, ref1
Keats, John, ref1
Kennedy, Douglas, ref1
Kermode, Frank, ref1
Klein, Joe, ref1
Kunitz, Stanley, ref1
LaBute, Neil, ref1
Laird, Nick, ref1
Larkin, Philip, ref1, ref2, ref3
Lawrence, D. H., ref1
Le Carré, John, ref1
Leigh, Mike, ref1
Loach, Ken, ref1
Logue, Christopher, ref1
Lonergan, Kenneth, ref1
Machado, Antonio, ref1
Ma
panje, Jack, ref1
Marías, Javier, ref1
Matthews, William, ref1
McBurney, Simon, ref1
McCall Smith, Alexander, ref1
McCann, Colum, ref1
McCarthy, Tom, ref1
McEwan, Ian, ref1
McManus, James, ref1
McVicar, David, ref1
Méndez, Juan, ref1
Millay, Edna St. Vincent, ref1
Mistral, Gabriela, ref1
Morris, John N., ref1
Motion, Andrew, ref1
Muir, Edwin, ref1
Muldoon, Paul, ref1
Murray, Les, ref1
Neruda, Pablo, ref1
Nicol, Abioseh, ref1
Okigbo, Christopher, ref1
Okri, Ben, ref1
Oliver, Mary, ref1
O’Neill, Joseph, ref1
Owen, Wilfred, ref1
Patten, Brian, ref1, ref2
Pinter, Harold, ref1
Porter, Peter, ref1
Pound, Ezra, ref1
Prévert, Jacques, ref1
Puttnam, David, ref1
Quevedo, Francisco de, ref1
Radcliffe, Daniel, ref1
Raine, Craig, ref1, ref2
Redel, Victoria, ref1
Remnick, David, ref1
Reyes-Manzo, Carlos, ref1
Rich, Adrienne, ref1
Rilke, Rainer Maria, ref1
Robertson, Robin, ref1
Roethke, Theodore, ref1
Rogers, Richard, ref1
Rosencof, Mauricio, ref1
Rossetti, Christina, ref1
Rushdie, Salman, ref1
Salles, Walter, ref1
Sassoon, Siegfried, ref1
Sayle, Alexei, ref1
Schama, Simon, ref1
Shakespeare, William, ref1
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, ref1
Shetty, Salil, ref1
Sieghart, William, ref1
Sís, Peter, ref1
Solomon, Andrew, ref1
Stevenson, Robert Louis, ref1
Stewart, Patrick, ref1
Sutherland, John, ref1
Tagore, Rabindranath, ref1, ref2