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Failing at History
She always argued when I used to say
We were like the great lovers of the past.
That was just woolly thinking, she’d insist:
Each separate period of history
Was quite different from us in the way
They defined romance. So my exotic list—
Caesar and Cleopatra and the rest—
Had no relevance for the present day.
She left me. There’s not much I understand.
I stared for ages at our photographs;
They seem remote as long-ago events.
Her letters, now, seem hard to comprehend,
Indecipherable as hieroglyphs.
I’m no historian: none of this makes sense.
.
.
Stage Fright
If the world really is a stage,
I ask myself: how did I act?
The answer: not that well, in fact.
I fluffed the lines upon the page.
If there was something true to say,
How I regret not speaking clear.
Instead, I sounded insincere…
I mumbled and I walked away.
I let my leading ladies down,
I should have shown them some respect
Not self absorption and neglect.
I rue the times I messed around.
I know the part I should have played:
A character both strong and kind.
A lesser role I’d always find,
Someone deceitful and afraid.
I’d like to make amends, and yet
How can I, now? When all I am
Is a forgotten, washed-up ham.
Nothing is altered by regret.
.
.
David Whippman is a British poet, now retired after a career in healthcare. Over the years he’s had quite a few poems, articles and short stories published in various magazines.
Stage Fright reminds me of a poem I wrote in 1972 called The Spectator. The final verse:
Shakespeare said the world’s a stage
And we are all just players.
Some of us don’t like the wage
And so are just spectators.
I enjoyed these poems. Thank you.
And thank you, Paul, for this feedback and for sharing a stanza of “The Spectator”.
My empathy and sympathy for the character in each poem. To quote Jennifer Aniston, “There are no regrets in life, just lessons.” Sometimes we cannot make sense of what happened as you said in your first poem and certainly regrets do not alter the past but teach us how to act or not act in the future.
I think lessons rather then regrets is a good philosophy, in theory. But personally I find regrets impossible to avoid. Thank you Roy.
The rhyme scheme in “Failing …” is beguiling, and the play of the literary quotation with the examination of a life in “Stage Fright” is masterful. But I want to know: Does a Whippman always work with a bondsman?
Many thanks, CB. You wouldn’t believe the jokes my surname has inspired over the years!
“Failing at History” has many marvelous consonantal rhymes. And I love the extended metaphor of “Stage Fright”.
Thanks so much Cynthia; glad you liked the poems. The stage motif has always interested me.
If the woman in “Failing at History” is not fictive, then I think the speaker was well rid of her. She sounds like the typical opinionated modern liberal who rejects history because it is “irrelevant” to the present.
Thanks Joseph. Personally I fall between two camps: I think we have a great deal to learn from history, but I also think it’s unwise to draw exact parallels. But I know where you are coming from; the “history is bunk” view has always seemed crass and ignorant to me.
David, I was hoping that these are not auto-biographical, but I must admit to enjoying both of them immensely. “Indecipherable as hieroglyphs” is pure linguistic magic.
Thanks Jeff. Parallels of any kind between ancient and modern fascinate me. Of the two, “Stage Fright” is easily the more autobiographical. Of course we can’t alter what is done, but I found catharsis in writing it.
David, that sonnet is by no means a failure. I give it great marks for turning to such historic expressions as “ages” and “long-ago event” after the volta, when the love that was like the “great loves of the past” sadly takes its place in the past–and is no longer understood by the lover who is no historian,
As for “woolly thinking,” that is currently admired by academicians who regard logic as the bane of culture. Woolly thinkers are prized primitives who make connections beyond the force of reason. Maybe that was the admirable fault of the gentleman in the sonnet.
“Stage Fright,” and having a desired role not taken up, is true of many persons. I happen to think honest regrets are preferable to excuses, especially when the excuses blame other actors or the casting director.
Margaret, thanks for your perceptive feedback. In my 8th decade, I cannot blame others for my own failings. So, as you say, no excuses. But I guess I’m not too old to learn: about myself among many subjects. MacNeice said that poetry was his road to freedom and knowledge, and that must include self-knowledge. Maybe I learned a lesson by writing this piece.
When in high school, I wrote a few lines on the premise that “All the world’s a stage.” When my mother saw them, she remarked, “If you continue on like this, you are in for a host of trouble!”
SHE WAS RIGHT!
Berenice was very shrewd and perceptive. Too strong an attachment to fictive mimesis (whether in text or in paint) is often the harbinger of unhappiness in real life.
Thanks Sally; so glad you managed to weather the storms!