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To the Ancient Mariner

“O Wedding-Guest! This soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea;
So lonely ‘twas, that God himself
Scarce seeméd there to be.”
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

O, Mariner! What pain you felt—
The sea would neither freeze nor melt,
_As you abjured the Cross!
Twixt life and death you could not choose—
And nought could make flat waves betoss.
Now lost, I plumb your heart for clues:
_Why kill the albatross?

What gained you to betray a friend
And do so without thought of end?
_You placed your quill to bow,
Espied the bird and simply shot.
Your aim was neither high nor low
Your mood was neither cold nor hot
_Nor eye too quick nor slow.

This crime you did with nary cause,
With ill regard for life or laws—
_It seemed just random whim.
Yet I myself have done such things
And caused deep wounds to life and limb.
I’ve suffered all that conscience brings
_As hope turns gray and grim.

An impulse is a thing of dread
For it can leave a strong man dead
_Or drowning in remorse.
I’ve spoken words that I regret
And then let hatred run its course.
Poor Mariner, you ache and fret,
_But I, Friend, suffer worse.

You killed the albatross. For shame!
But I was there to share the blame
_And so we’ve both worked woe.
Though with a word you killed the bird
That made the ocean breeze to blow
I came to echo each harsh word
_And helped your crime to grow.

O, Mariner, I’ve failed your test:
He prayeth best, who loveth best
_All things both great and small.
I’m much too full of buried rage
To pray. My Friend, I’ve hit a wall;
And in this bleak, regressive stage
_My heart feels closed to all.

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The Nicest Guy in Town

The nicest guy in town cleaves to his mask
To virtue-signal when he leaves the house.
This mask can heal the World—an awesome task!
So don’t you dare complain, you scofflaw louse.

The nicest guy knows out of all the land
He is by far the smartest and most kind.
You lesser beings should give me a hand
For I’m the last best hope for all Mankind.

He claims nobility in all he feels
And idolizes people wise men hate.
He studies them and then he subtly steals
The attributes of those he’d imitate:

A dash of Greta Thunberg, some Obama,
Some Newsom and, of course, Kamala Harris.
He’s far too lofty to engage in drama
But loves to subtly sneer, mock and embarrass.

He’d never try “to win one for the Gipper.”
He claims conservatives are part Rasputin,
Part Lizzie Borden, hints of Jack the Ripper
And spiced with Nixon, Genghis Khan and Putin.

The nicest guy! A rock-star! Such a stud!
Judgmental, too. His measured, Vulcan feelings
Fall on the floor with a resounding thud
And mask misanthropy and double dealings.

He says he’s a philanthropist but shies
From those who disagree with his conceits.
He says he worships truth but vaunts such lies
As help him earn a boon in billed receipts.

If you are not pro-choice he thinks you’re dim.
A cell is just a cell. Divide. Delete.
His ideology means more to him
Than all the friendly neighbors on his street.

Some go to churches. Sometimes he’s invited.
But no. He laughs at them behind closed doors.
Such superstition! Fairy tales! Short sighted!
I pity them, these uptight, upright boors!

This man’s convinced his bullshit doesn’t stink
And that we should be dazzled, should bow down
To him. Insanely he still thinks we think
That he is quite the nicest guy in town.

.

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Three Times Before the Cock Crows

“Then he began to curse and swear, saying ‘I do not know the
Man!’ Immediately a rooster crowed. And Peter remembered
the word of Jesus who had said to him, ‘Before the rooster
crows, you will deny Me three times.’ So he went out and
wept bitterly.” —Matthew 26:75

I vowed a life of faithfulness to him;
I’d share the punishments that might ensue:
Humiliation, torture—even death.

Up till today I’d given him my all—
My home, my friends, my work—all that I knew—
My treasure and my muscle, mind and soul.

But when he was arrested… My fear grew.
The moment when I should have stood for him…
O God, the many things I should have said!

“You heartless, faithless soldiers—take me too!
For I am his disciple—fiercely proud
To be his student, follower and friend!”

But, God forgive me, I was not that man.
I failed. My courage failed. I was untrue,
And so denied him once, then twice, then thrice.

What makes it even worse—that he foresaw
How in my weakness this is what I’d do.
This cowardice of mine… How could he know?

There’s no more goodness in me. Not one trace.
And though He may forgive me and show grace
I cannot bear to show the world my face.

.

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Brian Yapko is a retired lawyer whose poetry has appeared in over fifty journals.  He is the winner of the 2023 SCP International Poetry Competition. Brian is also the author of several short stories, the science fiction novel El Nuevo Mundo and the gothic archaeological novel  Bleeding Stone.  He lives in Wimauma, Florida.

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24 Responses

  1. Roy Eugene Peterson

    The greatness continues and echoes through time with first the Ancient Mariner rhyme. The ego of “the nicest guy” is fraught with folly we should decry. Apostle Peter failed his trial when knowing the Master, he feigned denial. All three poems our thoughts entwine while bordering on the divine.

    Reply
    • Patricia Redferm

      The name, poet, surely belongs to you!
      I think you are a highly gifted person and glad to see our friendship blossom! You and James Sale! Very gifted,and humbly so! You both read my poetry, which is far from classical. yet you never read me and said, “ go blow!”
      These thoughts were inspired by your poem.“ The Nicest Guy in Town” for you both are the farthest humans from him! I do know poets(not here), who think their poetry is a hot stuff?
      Thank you, Brian!

      Reply
      • Brian Yapko

        Thank you so much for this generous comment, Patricia. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your own delightful poetry. And I’m especially glad you liked “The Nicest Guy” — so to speak. He is a piece of work which we have to endure constantly and in many settings. How I wish he would look in the mirror and develop some self-awareness.

    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you so much, Roy! I’ve long wanted to write a poem inspired by the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but I never expected to end up quite so personal. “The Nicest Guy” is anything but. But when we get to Peter, it’s rather complex. He failed Jesus, it’s true, and yet he was still able to achieve much in His name. Thank you also for the “entwine/divine” rhyme. I may have to use that in a future work. (If you don’t mind.)

      Reply
  2. Mark Stellinga

    A very deft & challengingly-formatted recap, Brian, of an event I wasn’t familiar with – the 1st – a ‘nicely-nasty’ piece very possibly inspired by our awe-inspiring Mr. Newsom (in particular) – the 2nd – and a very moving, Sunday morning account of one of the most unexpected and heartbreaking denials ever – the last. All superbly shared –

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much indeed, Mark!

      If you’re not familiar with Coleridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” I highly recommend it. It’s quite accessible and a fascinating story of the sea and of the speaker’s moral failure and redemption. It’s one of my personal favorites. Coleridge did not write nearly as many poems as his fellow Romantics, but the ones that he did write are immortal. Some of my favorites also include “This Lime Tree Bower My Prison,” the rather gothic “Cristabel” and, of course, “Kubla Khan.” But Coleridge was also a brilliant critic. He wrote much on Shakespeare that is quite profound.

      I would love to tell you who specifically inspired my second poem (no, it was not the inestimable Gavin Newsome) but, alas, that must remain a mystery. Suffice it to say that he represents many people in many places throughout the quickly devolving West. All of them insufferable, irritating, hypocritical and blithely (if unintentionally) destructive.

      Reply
  3. Edward Hayes

    Heavy duty meter, Brian; you lost (lazy) me. Is this trochaic? Try that sometime; Poe uses it in “The Raven”.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you for reading and commenting, Edward. I’m not sure which of the three poems you are referring to, but since you brought up the Romantic poet Poe and “The Raven” I will guess that you’re referring to my Romantic-inspired Ancient Mariner.” I’m intrigued by your perception of the meter as heavy. No, it’s not trochaic. It’s purely iambic (O MAR-i-NER what PAIN you FELT…) and it’s in lines of tetrameter varied twice in each stanza with trimeter. My intention was to evoke (without copying) Coleridge who also alternated iambic tetrameter and trimeter (albeit in quatrains… mostly.) Example:

      It is an ancient Mariner,
      And he stoppeth one of three.
      ‘By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
      Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?

      Coleridge was far less regular than I in meter (though I try not to be a slave to severe regularity) but as you go through the very lengthy poem it’s clearly iambic but with some variations (extra syllables and subtitutions.)

      I may be quite wrong here, but I’m guessing that the “heaviness” you perceive is more a factor of the language, subject matter and the tone rather than the actual form. But I may be projecting here. Would love to hear more from you if I’m interpreting correctly if you have the chance.

      And I happen to be very fond of “The Raven.” Yes, that is more explicitly trochaic: QUOTH the RA-ven NEV-er-MORE.

      Reply
  4. James Sale

    Very fine work, Bryan – I should comment on the Mariner poem but the one that tickled me was your Nicest Guy in Town: we are all so plagued by these people. And I liked your naming of names, especially “and, of course, Kamala Harris.” Yea, it all so fits! Keep the satire rolling! Let’s hope we never have to see her campaigning again.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much indeed, James! I’m glad you were tickled by the Nicest Guy (who is anything but.) Yes, we are indeed plagued by these people and they seem to multiply and swarm like locusts of insufferability. I can’t imagine Kamala ever campaigning again but she is so delusional (as are her handlers and sycophants) that it’s entirely possible. Oh, how I miss that cackle.

      Reply
  5. Joseph S. Salemi

    All three poems are extended character sketches, and the last is a dramatic monologue (one of Brian’s favorite genres).

    The first is mercilessly introspective and self-judgmental — the speaker apostrophizes Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner, reviewing the man’s senseless and apparently motiveless crime, but using it as a measuring rod to talk about his own sins and failings. It is unsparing in its confession of bad behavior, and in the expression of deep contrition.

    The second (with its sarcastic title) is a satiric anatomy of the type of obnoxious, self-important virtue-signaller that has become a plague on the entire Western world. In Shakespeare’s time similar depictions of Dissenting Puritans (the politically correct types of that period) were written.

    The third gives us Peter’s deep remorse over his denial of Christ. I tried to find a rhyme scheme in the tercets, but I could only get a trail of -oo words (ensue, knew, grew, too, untrue, do) that were irregularly placed. And the triple rhyme of trace, grace, and face at the end made me wonder — was that to give a heavy emphasis to Peter’s despair? If so, then maybe the irregularly placed -oo rhymes were designed to suggest the confusion of a remembered betrayal.

    All three pieces are well crafted and compelling. Brian is a poet who can successfully deal with literary reference, current behavior, and religious meaning.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much indeed, Joe, for this generous comment. It’s true that the Ancient Mariner poem is harsh in self-judgment. But in some ways I hope this balances the relentless self-indulgence and blame-game that seems to pervade our culture these days. Taking responsibility for one’s errors now seems as antiquated as the Ancient Mariner himself. And yet I can’t imagine that I am alone in feeling the sting of conscience from having done something wrong. Regret for one’s behavior is an old story in poetry. Shakespeare (Sonnet 30) and Emily Dickinson (Remorse) both come to mind. Not to mention, of course, Coleridge’s original which inspired this apostrophe.

      I fully agree with you on the self-important virtue-signaler who has indeed “become a plague on the entire Western world.” Where in heck did this type come from? I’m grateful for your reference to Dissenting Puritans in Shakespeare’s time – to whom I would add a dash of self-important Polonius.

      Your discussion of my poem in the voice of Peter is very astute. Interestingly, the trail of “oo” words was inspired (at least in part) by you – that is, your comment on my poem “On Binge-Reading Sylvia Plath” from two years ago. At that time you brought up the Plath poem “Daddy” and mentioned it’s surfeit of “oo” rhymes as (according to an old girlfriend) being indicative of emotional turmoil and inarticulate exasperation. I remembered that and used it here. I do not see Peter as exasperated here (perhaps with himself), but he is obviously in emotional turmoil. For that reason, I did not envision him having sufficient detachment or rationality to speak in lines that rhyme. Rhyme, for me, bespeaks an ability to logically sequence thought and in some dramatic monologues it would simply be wrong (that’s where blank verse comes in.) Still, I did not want this poem to go without rhyme at all. That leads to the final rhyming tercet. I felt that Peter was weighing himself and greatly found to be wanting and kicking himself with regret. I felt that the final three lines were the final judgment he imposed upon himself. And for that, I felt that his agitated mind had reached a point of resolve – a self-sentencing as it were. By the way, tercets – stanzas composed of three lines – seemed an appropriate choice for a poem involving Christ.

      Thank you so much for noting the different subjects of poems that I have addressed here. I do indeed try to avoid getting typecast as a poet interested in only one particular subject or genre.

      Reply
  7. Warren Bonham

    I don’t know how you find the time or the inspiration to keep producing prodigiously. These were all exceptional. I’ve always loved the Coleridge classic, particularly the line “instead of a cross, the albatross about my neck was hung”. As you point out, we’ve all abjured the cross and replaced it with an albatross that weighs us down for the rest of our earthly days.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you, Warren! LOL, for some reason — later in life — I discovered that poetry is my thing. I love reading it and writing it and so I make the time. As for inspiration, the world is very full. As is history. And the heart. And like you, I suspect that each of us has his own albatross of sorts. I believe that this is what drove Coleridge to write the poem in the first place. He had his share of burdens and (I think) his poem bears the mark of personal suffering. The line you site from the original is beautiful and so painful

      Reply
  8. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    What a literary treat of a trio of fine poems, Brian. For me, the poems, although very different on the surface, complement one another in that they speak of moral failure and the weight that carries. The harsh reality of having caused harm – whether by action, omission, or beneath a mask of virtue – is worth contemplating. And you do this with a poetic skill and a deep understanding of human nature, which is why these poems are so engaging.

    I like the intimate, confessional voice that embodies “To the Ancient Mariner” – it transforms a classic narrative into a personal, reflective meditation that has an empathetic tone which instantly connects with the reader. Being a fan of satire, I love the sharp irony of “The Nicest Guy in Town” – it epitomizes the “Nice Guy” who tears apart relationships for the sake of ego and public approval. I love the surface hilarity which brings forth the knowing nod, and the sadness and seriousness of the sick nature of the fakery bubbling beneath. In this divisive age of the “Nice Guy” this poem makes a grave point. But it’s “Three Times Before the Cock Crows” that’s my favorite, simply because of the big question and the psychological vulnerability. The easily accessible, heartfelt language gives deep emotional access to the agony of spiritual failure. This gives the poem an immediate human connection. I have often wondered if I would have the bravery to speak the fierce truth when faced with the horrific consequences of speaking with such bold honesty. I’d like to think I would… but I doubt myself, which is why your poem has captured my heart and my imagination. The closing stanza is especially powerful. The self-reproach, the isolation, the realization that one has failed (perhaps irreparably) is a brutal personal blow.

    I believe these three very different poems have the question of forgiveness simmering beneath, whether it’s yearning for forgiveness or whether it’s to forgive. I love it when poems bring forth questions, and your three excellent, achingly human works have me thinking… a lot. Brian, thank you very much indeed!

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Susan, thank you so much for this sensitive comment. As ever, you understand precisely what I was going for with this set and you’ve marked the details with accuracy and insight. I’m glad you see the poems working together as a set. I wasn’t quite sure. I knew that “Mariner” and “Three Times” belonged together because they have a similar non-satiric, self-judgmental tone. “Nicest Guy” found its way into the set when I realized that even though it was satirical, in some ways it really was about identifying character defects in the subject. And this was the key to all three. As you say, “moral failure” and the weight it carries.

      I am especially glad that you singled out “Three Times” as your personal favorite. It is mine as well, for it addresses an abject failure of both character and courage which has grave spiritual and historical implications. “Ancient Mariner” speaks to a failure to act with love and a shutting down of the heart. It bespeaks sadness and emotional/spiritual fatigue but is limited in scope. In contrast, “Three Times” is catastrophic for it is Christ who has been betrayed, and in this betrayal the speaker has (seemingly) severed his connection to God. (The “Nicest Guy” never had one to begin with.) I so relate to your comment about courage. I, too, wonder if I would have the bravery to speak the fierce truth even when faced with the horrific consequences of speaking with bold honesty. I know that you do, Susan, because you demonstrate this in a very large proportion of your work. As for myself… I’m still just a work in progress. But I know that it is very important to speak out and no longer let evil ideas and actions get by without calling them out. I try, even when it is uncomfortable or unpopular.

      I am a bit surprised but find myself agreeing with you in the observation that the question of forgiveness simmers beneath these poems. I agree without qualification concerning “Mariner” and “Three Times.” As for “Nicest Guy…” Well, we’ll have to see. He/she will never ask for it. But maybe that’s not the point. Maybe forgiveness in that context means no longer kicking oneself for having enabled such narcissistic behavior in the first place.

      Reply
  9. Laura Schwartz

    Brian, you revived the mariner’s anguish with tides of raw emotion, intersecting cosmic guilt with intimate remorse, transforming the albatross’s fate into a mirror for our own impulsive sins.

    In “Three Times…”, you describe Peter’s regret with such clarity, laying bare his denials as he carried the weight of shame. By pointing to man’s vulnerability, you remind us how courage and fear dance on the head of a fragile pin.

    Each poem glorious, my favorite is “The Nicest Guy in Town”. We may all know someone with these subhuman qualities and sometimes the best, albeit difficult thing we can do is to cut off all contact. Sipping from this guy’s cup only churns our own stomach acids. Let ’em “nice” on somebody else.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Laura, thank you so much for reading and commenting! You have absolutely nailed what I was hoping for in these poems — especially the meaning of the albatross and Peter’s weight of shame. Yes, I think we all know one of those “Nicest Guy” types. You made me laugh with the observation “sipping from this guy’s cup only churns our own stomach acids.” Laura, you’ve said a mouthful! Now I need to go take something for my heartburn.

      Reply
  10. Yael

    These poems are amazing and all 3 go exceptionally well together with their theme of repentance of sin, self righteousness, moral failure, self-judgement, and condemnation versus salvation. Thanks for the great reading experience!

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you so much, Yael! I’m relieved and grateful that you feel the three poems work well together as a trio. And I’m so glad you mentioned the contrasting moral failings of self-judgment and self-righteousness. My “Nicest Guy” is a study in oblivious self-righteousness — the kind that works way more woe on society that the actions of the “Ancient Mariner” or the speaker talking to him in that poem.

      The toughest to contemplate is Peter’s failure and so I’m listening particularly hard when you speak of “condemnation versus salvation.” Somehow, despite Peter’s self-flagellation, he obviously was forgiven and, with Paul, became one of the two most important voices of the early Church. It is amazing to know that according to his own standards he failed utterly and unforgivably and yet he was forgiven and used as an instrument of God. This discrepancy in how people see things and how God sees things is full of mystery to me and reinforces the idea that we simply cannot see as God sees.

      Reply
  11. Adam Sedia

    I love poems that dialogue with earlier works, and your conversation with Coleridge is an interesting meditation, as well as a character study.

    Your other works are also deep character studies. The first is at once lighthearted and serious, and the second is intense – I think it is my favorite of the three, with its true-to-life portrait of a heartfelt expression of contrition.

    Reply
    • Brian Yapko

      Thank you very much indeed, Adam! I also love the idea of poems that dialogue with preexisting characters (historical or fictional) and even places. It is truly an evocative source of potential poetic material. I’ve long wanted to write a poem about a visit (imaginary) to Elsinore or to have a chat with Mozart. And many is the time I’ve wanted to give Karl Marx and Sigmund Freud a piece of my mind.

      I’m especially glad for your view on “Three Times…” This one is also my favorite and I love your description of heartfelt contrition. Poetry is particularly suited to cries of the heart.

      Reply

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