No one mourns the ...

Book that was never written

I went to see Wicked today. Anyone who has read the introduction to my poetry collection¹ will know that, in 2019, I took one specific song from that musical really literally and the leap I took created a whole new chapter of my life. I absolutely adored silent singing along with my niece to that song as it played today, but it was the opening song, No one mourns the wicked that got me thinking this time.

The brutality of these lyrics become more brutal with each layer of the story:

No one mourns the wicked
No one cries "They won't return!"
No one lays a lily on their grave

Maybe, no one mourns what they never know? ²

The subtext in the subtitle

There are many morality stories in the film, but fresh out of releasing a book into the world, I took one away that I don’t think is intended. It is all of my own projection, which is often what we all mainly take from all art. Our own projections.

My collection is called PrOving I ExisT. All art is a reflection of existence. A moment that may outlast the artist. It may not. No one may even look at it. It has to been seen, listened to, read, thought about, shared, to exist beyond the artists imagination (and work to make real). A book may live on shelf. Art on a wall. A song or a poem learned by heart may live on in its telling. I opened my Edinburgh Fringe Show³ with a retelling of one of the first poems I learned by heart by Spike Milligan⁴. Spike and I were several generations apart but I loved his Silly Verse for Kids.

I know that I had never written or shared a poem, there is a whole side of me that people would never have known. And I would not have met so many wonderful new people, and had so many new experiences that I will look back forever fondly. Without the leap, I wouldn’t have those memories.

Publishing many of the poems that I have been sharing and writing over the last 5 years was another huge leap. But now the book exists, other people can bring those poems into new homes, make new connections from them, give them new meanings. And even though that is terrifying it is also exhilarating.

At school they gave me existential dread

This is the name of one of the poems in my collection. You can listen to it here:

This poem was inspired by being told at a young age, pre-google, about the Big Bang, and how the universe was infinite. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Galaxies and planets beyond any chance of human comprehension. And I couldn’t google more than the scant information I learned at school. So my imagination took over.

Now, when I look up at the stars they are a massive comfort. We all look at the same ones. Generations before us and after us will look up the same stars. We will see new ones. Miss so many that we will never know. Some will die and we won’t even notice. Even stars can’t shine bright enough for us all to know well enough to miss when they die. And here we are all the same, trying to make sense and connect and hope we shine in someone else’s for a moment.

It’s incredible and, sometimes, when I am worried about trying something new and ‘brave’ this little bit existential realism gives me a nudge. May as well, eh?

The delusion of legacy

As a History graduate I loved reading the words of ‘real’ people around the periphery of the ‘big event’. The perspectives they offered, sometimes through art, poetry and storytelling, always made the subject more accessible. Normal people have lived through nearly every human emotion we are all experiencing in the here and now. Only a tiny proportion of all the stories to have ever existed are recorded. We have smartphones and can record more, but that is all still temporary and personal. We share on social media but even the servers will stop working one day. Not in our lifetimes, but, if Brian Cox (not the actor), is to be believed, none of this is permanent.

Not all art survives. Not all of it will be a legacy. Some films, like the Wizard of Oz, leads to new art. You never know where art may lead. It may just be momentary. It may be genre setting. It may be chip wrapper. Some of the best poems I have been most moved by (to tears, rage or laughter) have never been published/put on line, but they have made an incredible impression on me and the other people who have heard it.

Connection in the here and now matters, even if it is only to know yourself better in this short space of time we get to burn our pieces of carbon up.

Don’t mourn your own possibilities

Even if you don’t know your story will be mourned, don’t mourn your own life whilst you are here. All the possibilities you have in the here and now could make this life so much richer an experience.

Thank you for reading this edition of Poems & That. This is an irregular news letter that talks about lessons I have learned as a poet. I have a paid subscription which gives you access to the whole back catalogue and a once a month newsletter called Little Wonder, that shares the glimmers of the last month.

1. Proving I Exist: https://amzn.eu/d/a4PBblR . All royalties go to Choose Love and Refuge.

2. This felt v Carrie Bradshaw to write.

3. https://lisaoharewriter.com/fringe-show

4. https://www.poetrybooks.co.uk/products/silly-verse-for-kids-by-spike-milligan