Judging a Remembrance Poetry Competition

My task for today (well, for this week, but I must make an immediate start) is to judge a local poetry competition linked to the centenary of the end of the First World War.

I knew from a fairly early age that the relatives of close family friends and indeed members of my own family had served in the conflict, but somehow the days around Remembrance Sunday were strange ones for my teenage self. They were evidently days that made people I knew well 'feel' something that I sensed was still beyond my grasp and strangely beyond my reach.

I studied the Peloponnesian and Persian wars at university in a detached historical way. I took courses on Homeric warfare in which we tried to link archaeological artefacts with passages in the text, thereby building up a rounded picture of the ancient world from the range of primary sources available. I loved the challenges presented by this approach, but war itself remained an enigma. Perhaps war is always an enigma.

Some years later I had the chance to study work by the war poets; and seeing, well, almost experiencing, conflict and service through their eyes lifted a veil from my own. The poems that spoke most directly to me about the aspiration for peace (something I felt deeply) and the reality of 20th century hostilities (something I almost wished to avoid) were those that tackled the subject from a slightly oblique angle. 'The Owl' by Edward Thomas would be a case in point.

I have returned to that poem many times. In four brief quatrains, the speaker presents a world of war that is vividly evoked but barely described. As I have mentioned above, I live with aspirations of peace, but at a moment when I was finally receptive to the exploration of modern notions of conflict (with the aim of increasing my understanding), it only took a handful of well-chosen words to extend my appreciation of human loyalty and sacrifice in the face of battle. The poet's employment of a double entendre, or play, on the word 'barred' is, to my way of thinking, a stroke of genius - and ironically it was one of the words in this poem that became a personal key, unlocking empathy and gratitude for those caught up directly or indirectly in the atrocities of the First World War.

Review of 'Towards The Light' in The London Grip

There is a detailed review by Thomas Ovans of Towards the Light over on The London Grip site today. As Ovans mentions, my poem, 'Et in terra pax', concerns the 1914 Christmas Truce. It was inspired in part by the stained glass window in the Chapel at Loretto School. 

11 November - Laurence Binyon and the British Museum

David in the British Museum

'They shall grow not old ...'

from 'For the Fallen' by Laurence Binyon

Many will have seen the poppy installation at the Tower of London. David and I attended a fascinating event in honour of (Robert) Laurence Binyon (1869–1943) at the British Museum on 11 November 2014. Binyon's granddaughter, Sophie Gray, assisted a member of staff from Prints and Drawings with the delivery of a presentation about the War Poet's life and work. 

Binyon, who was immensely interested in art from Europe, China and Japan, was invited to head up the new Department of Oriental Prints and Drawings in the British Museum in 1913, just before the outbreak of war. His career at the British Museum spanned 44 years.

Binyon was too old to enlist as a soldier in the Great War, but was keen to serve and volunteered with the Red Cross as an Orderly. He became a stretcher bearer. 

Basil Gray, Binyon's son-in-law, took over his British Museum work. The new Department of Oriental Antiquities was created in 1933.

We were able to listen to a recording of Binyon's voice and to see documents in the poet's hand, along with prints and watercolours that he had acquired for the Print Room. Two portraits of Binyon by William Strang were on display.

• Feature on Edward Thomas, Western Daily Press

Publication Pointer: World Haiku Anthology

I heard today that my Haiku, dockbound, has been accepted for this forthcoming anthology, compiled by Dimitar Anakiev and illustrated by Kuniharu Shimizu. The book, scheduled for publication early in 2013, contains nearly 900 poems from 420 poets, from 45 countries (6 continents), written in 33 languages and English.

'This landmark collection, interweaving hundreds of poetic voices from around the world, creates a powerful statement for peace and against war.' Kim Goldberg, Canadian author of Red Zone and other books.

'The call for haiku on the theme of war by Dimitar Anakiev has been a call for courage, intelligence and belief in the possibility of peace. Believing in peace is essential to our survival.'  Marilyn Hazelton (USA), Editor, red lights.