Getting At The Truth

This is the poet Don Paterson- “I’ve rarely written very honestly, or at least with any allegiance to the facts. Facts in poetry mostly get in the way of truth.”

That isn’t his last word on the subject, but it intrigues me nonetheless. I am fascinated by the paradox “Art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth” (Picasso). (Plato had a different view, saying that the artist is “an imitator of images and is very far removed from the truth” – which is a bit of a downer.)

This is called

                  The Facts of the Matter

The fact is that I can’t or won’t remember.
Perhaps a CT of my brain would help-
Determine the hiding-place of whichever gremlin
Has me waking me at four in the morning with a yelp
Of no, o no, that could not have happened-
It wasn’t like that; I didn’t say that.
(Had I done so, I wouldn’t be so happy.
I’d be on those pills that make your mind go flat.)
But even if it all came reliably back,
What’s the use? I, and you, prefer the fable;
That other thing, The Truth, is just a Jack
Straw’s Castle, a Leaning Tower of Babel.
Best just to write things down, not stop and think,
Then pour yourself a stupefying drink.

(And here are a couple of lines of Don Paterson- the closing couplet of a poem called ‘Poetry’-

               Beneath the blue oblivious sky, the water
               sings of nothing, not your name, not mine.)

The Rising Sun

 

I much enjoyed being back at the wonderful Rising Sun in Reading on Valentine’s Day, taking part in an evening called ‘The Power of Love’. I wrote this for the occasion.

St Valentine’s Day Brassica

At Table One, a couple who have come
To enjoy a special night of loving
One another, something they do not, every day,
Find time for. Tonight they have made time
And they make the most of it, enjoying
The candles, the flowers on the table,
The wine, the food, the sight of each other’s eyes
As they talk and laugh, engrossed in one another.
One says: Tell me if I get kale stuck in my teeth.
Beyond that, there is nothing to detain us.

So we move on to Table Two, where one
Has been kept waiting for fifteen minutes
And is telling the other -who has now arrived
And, while removing a coat, and before sitting down,
Is saying Sorry, Sorry, Sorry –
Not to worry, you’re here now, it doesn’t matter
Sit down, stop worrying, relax..
It does matter, but the important thing
Is for the latecomer to sit, relax
And, please God, stop saying sorry sorry sorry.
One likes the sound of Pot Roast Red Cabbage
The other has yet to look at the menu
We’ll need to keep an eye on this couple

The couple at Table Three came early
And one of them is already three-parts-drunk.
If you just glance over, you will see that
Dollops of cauliflower cheese have spilled to the floor
And that the other is struggling not to say
What is most necessary to say
But would definitely spoil their romantic night-
Please darling, don’t have any more to drink
You know what you get like when you do.
We will definitely keep our eyes and ears open
For what happens next- will the three-parts-drunk one
Become completely drunk? And what might that lead to?
One or the other, or both, will say something to regret

 
You will wonder as soon as you look at Table Four
Why they have bothered. They are looking at menus.
Eventually one says, without looking up
Have you made up your mind? I’ll have the chicken
And the other answers, without looking up
Salmon I think. Are you having a starter?
They agree on starters, sides. What shall we drink?
Asks one, picking up the wine list.
They consider the wine list, and when they have exhausted the topic
The one who took charge of that summarises-
So that’s two goat’s cheese, one salmon
One chicken, the kohlrabi, and two pinot grigios.
They remove their spectacles, and one
Shifts in his chair, looking for the waiter
While the other looks around and says
It’s not bad here, is it? Since they did it up.
The only thing that might keep us interested
Is to see if they ever look into each other’s eyes.

The couple at Table Five are having a blazing row
As sotto voce as they can manage
Just about keeping a lid on it
So that they do not, not yet at least,
Spoil the lovely evening that everyone else is having.
It is nevertheless possible to hear what
They are hissing; hear one saying to the other
And you’ve chosen tonight of all nights
To tell me this? A piece of rutabaga is stuck to a lip.
This is the most interesting thing we have heard
So far. We will not want to miss a word of this.

Table Six are having a whale of a time
Two large g-and-ts before anything else
Out for a cigarette after their starters
Now on their second bottle of Rioja
And laughing and leaning over their food
To nuzzle noses. One has an elbow in the brocolli.
It is a joy to see
A couple so obviously much in love
Enjoying everything about their evening
And looking as though their intention is
To enjoy each other even more back home-
As long as they are capable after all this drink.
The only thing that makes us slightly anxious
Is how close they are to the candles.
They look as though they might set fire to their hair.

Table Seven is our table. We are not happy.
We are at the table next to the toilets
And the waiter has just informed us that
The only side dish left is brussels sprouts