Mike Jenkins - Welsh Poet & Author
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WHY COMMEMORATE WORLD WAR 1? 

4/27/2014

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PictureWilfred Owen's 'Anthem for Doomed Youth'



























   In the 'Guardian' recently, Simon Jenkins argued eloquently and forcefully that the commemoration of World War 1 is a mistake.
   He makes the point that there are other significant historical events which should have equal emphasis (such as the Peterloo Massacre) and I can see his reasoning.
   Certainly, here in Cymru, events like the risings in Merthyr and Llanelli and the Chartist revolt in Newport need to be remembered and assessed in terms of contemporary relevance in particular.
   In terms of Merthyr 1831, modern-day loan sharks are very similar to the 'truck shops' of that time and multi-national companies such as Miller Argent ( doing opencast mining) behave with the same greed and arrogance as the Ironmasters of the 19th century.
   Jenkins makes a more pertinent point  when he says that we should celebrate the best of humankind and not just the worst (which war demonstrates).
   Thus, the Chartists, the founding of the Trade Unions and the fight for women's suffrage should have a much greater focus.
   The only positivity regarding remembrance tends to be related to the monarchy ; suiting British establishment propaganda in much the same way as war acts as a unifying force for a 'Great' Britain which is gradually fracturing.
   English Education Secretary Michael Gove and right-wing historians like Max Hastings would have us change the  perspective of that war given in the likes of 'Blackadder Goes Forth' ; as an exercise in mass murder by imperial powers intent on an Arms Race.
   To their credit, the BBC doesn't seem to be unduly influenced by this and , from what I've seen of their recent programmes, has shown commendable balance.
   In the new drama series 'The Crimson Field', the sheer absurdity of World War 1 is often shown. Set in a field hospital, it poses questions through the lives of the main characters : nurses, doctors and casualties.
   Though too many issues are dealt with in single programmes, the writers are clearly aware 
of the complexities.
   Surgeons wine and dine while the soldiers are patched up and rapidly returned to the front. The alarming contrasts much like Sassoon's best satirical poems.
   A once eager Irish soldier all too suddenly turns into a rebel when denied home leave and ends up 'doing a Yossarian' and appearing naked on parade decrying the British uniform. The background of Irish rebellion which led to the 1916 Uprising, is suggested if not developed.
   A soldier accused of deliberately wounding himself in order to get back to 'Blighty' is shot as a deserter. This certainly happened in many cases. The way he is seen 'as a ghost' by others is an effective metaphor in what can be a rather heavy-handed drama.
   It is hardly the anti-war bitterness of 'O What A Lovely War', nor is it part of Gove's revisionism. It raises vital issues and tries to give a background.
   Two programmes on BBC 4 complemented this very well.
   'War Requiem
' used Benjamin's Britten's operatic settings of Wilfred Owen's great poems together with dramatised sequences. The elegaic tone was prevalent, though I felt it was too formal for verse which became more starkly realistic and horrific as the war went on.
   The programme about Ivor Gurney was more contentious. Its presiding thesis was that Gurney - both in his life and art - thrived as a result of the war.
   As a celebration of a poet and composer whose work is too often neglected
, this programme was effective.
   Overall, however, it was seriously flawed.
   Gurney didn't actually seem that different from Rosenberg, Owen and Sassoon
, who all produced their best work as a direct result of involvement in combat.
   Saying Gurney needed the war is much like saying Heaney needed The Troubles : it doesn't make either conflict a necessity.
   Gurney's poetry was unique : he cared so much for his native Gloucestershire and had that love of locality  which neither Owen or Sassoon possessed.
   His songs were truly remarkable : composing such haunting, ethereal music whilst in the trenches was a genuine act of genius.
   He is a poet who deserves to be placed alongside the likes of David Jones, Hedd Wyn and Herbert Read and the fact that much of his best work was written during his many years in a mental institution after the war was astonishing.

   In this year of commemorations, I have been conducting workshops with Merthyr Writers' Squad based on World War One.
   It's very interesting to note that one Primary school are producing their own drama based on local history and these pupils knowledge of Merthyr's relationship with that war was a revelation.
   In particular, they had researched our former MP Keir Hardie and his avowed pacifism.
   To return to the Simon Jenkins article, at least this commemoration has led to these young people carrying out their own research and engaging with the past.
   You never know, it could have a profound affect upon our future.

        
                       HANDS  SOON  HARDENED

Rows of shells, Five Nines.
Moustachioed men supervise.

The shine of lethal bombs
like boots of troops on parade.

Women workers wearing masks,
strange nurses tending weapons ;

wielding wooden mallets like clubs
to stopper the open tops ;

women in overalls with long hair
tied and wrapped in head scarves.

Rails of warfare, purposeful and direct
as slogans on recruitment posters.

Bullets the size of torsos,
churns of gunpowder not milk.

Soft hands soon hardened
by the solid press of iron.

Thoughts overseas to broken lines
and holes which cannot be plugged.

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CLOSE  PRIVATE  SCHOOLS!

4/17/2014

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Picture














   At a recent N.U.T. rally outside the Senedd in Cardiff only Plaid Cymru were represented of the main political parties (by a certain Bethan Jenkins A.M. ).
  When she tweeted this fact, out from the building springs ex-Education Minister Leighton Andrews to interrupt Wales N.U.T. leader David Evans' speech.
   He was initially jeered and then cheered as he pledged support for Comprehensive education. Compared to England's multi-tiered and semi-privatised system , Wales does appear egalitarian and fair, yet......to what extent?
   There remains an overriding sense of failure, with many pupils not achieving the magic 'C' grade at GCSE. As I've blogged previously, only when schools are run democratically and the exam system  abolished so pupils are rewarded for what they achieve throughout their school careers, can we even approach a fully comprehensive system.
   Moreover, all public schools should be closed down.
   'Public' schools are a misnomer : they aren't for the 'public', but are elitist.
   The average annual fees for the likes of Howell's, Christ College and Llandovery range from £5000 - £8000.
   The average wage in my home town of Merthyr Tudful is about £26000 per annum. In order to send little Callum or Caitlin to these places, parents would need to go without food or heat for a year.......not advisable!
   Scholarships do exist ,but there are a limited number and all these institutions exist to make money, despite having charitable status.
   A friend who used to work for the Charities Commission was always appalled by the fact that private schools were regarded thus.
   Some deliberately fulfill community roles in order to feign this, but they are essentially places for the wealthy and privileged, often feeding the major universities like Oxford and Cambridge.
   When we think about private schools we tend to envisage Eton and Harrow, yet there are many smaller ones, some of which depend heavily on the State for their very existence , as the children of the Armed Services board there (another State subsidy).
   Many of these employ unqualified teachers and very dubious ones at that. I know because my father taught briefly in one in the Vale. He was a highly intelligent man with a serious mental illness, who should never have been allowed near school pupils. When dismissed for literally making them kiss his feet I wasn't surprised!
  At University I had two close acquintances who attended private schools and took an extra year to try to get into Oxbridge. Both failed , and ended up at Aber . To their benefit, I'd argue.
   Much has been made of the fact that many of the present Government attended the 'top' schools and that alone is proof of their shortcomings. However, they do produce a sense of entitlement, as well as a direct path to Oxbridge and many of the upper echelons of society.
   Other factors emphasize the benefits of private education , including their outstanding facilities and small class sizes.
   However, their serious faults are generally ignored.
   Recalling those two students , there were common patterns of behaviour which could be ascribed to their education.
   Both had an unhealthy obsession with porn, born out of all-male environments.
  Both had peculiar relationships with parents based largely on financial obligations to them. Normal,loving relationships had been distorted
  and numbed by years of absence and replaced by the feeling of being an 'investment'.
   Recently, State schools have been criticised for enabling parents to leave their children from 6 am - 6 pm, yet the private system goes way beyond this, allowing parents to abandon children at an early age and deprive them of family 
affection ( so much for the Tories mantra of the importance of 'the family').
   Much has also been made of the way the present Government are totally divorced from most people and cannot comprehend how they live.
   Private schools cater for one section of society only and inevitably cut them off from contact with people of all different classes. The schooling of the Government is one explanation of their ignorance and their ideologically-motivated cuts and austerity.
   In short, we should stop lauding private education and examine the reality  of a system which stunts and perverts the development of children.    
   It may bring them success in terms of money and status, but it doesn't make them successful, rounded human beings.


                               THE  VALUE  OF  EDUCATION


He slept above those bodies ,
hooking them out
with a deft and practised stroke
to finger through at night
under the covers.

He was at ease at the crease
or setting field-placings,
a 'born captain'
his House Master had insisted.

He went sleep-walking
once standing semi-naked
in the landlady's bedroom
and even when she screamed,
stood hollow-eyed.

He always told me -
'There's nothing wrong with my schooling,
my parents made an investment!'
He paid them back at the wicket,
or stuffy library not lingering long.

They rarely came to visit
but when they did, bought him
half the high street
of that small seaside town.

I knew he'd sleep-walk
into his father's profession
and his son would follow
into Prep and dormitories,
know the value of education
down to the nearest penny.

  


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A  HAIKU  IS  NOT  A  SCARF!

4/10/2014

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PictureMikecu for a christening

















   I have started doing haiku on wooden plaques.
   These are called 'Mikecu'. This isn't a company name or a brand.
   I'm not about to appear on 'Dragon's Den' asking them for a £100,000 investment for a 25% stake.
  I couldn't bear Duncan Balletine's interrogation about my profit margins.
   'What's your projected net profit for the first year of trading?'
   'Uh.......fuck all!'
   'Errrrr....right! So you expect me to hand you 100 grand for no return?.....I am oot!'
   So, I have begun by doing two for birthdays (one a 21st) and one for a Christening.
   And no, it's not the pimping of a Red Poet because I have written haiku for years, just never on wood to be hung up (or used for the fire?).
   They can be about almost anything (yes,even daffs and sheep!), but Nature and the seasons do remain primary themes.
   I like their brevity : out-tweeting Twitter and their focus ( even after a few pints of Celt).
   I have written a few yn Cymraeg, but mostly in English and ,unlike some other exponents, adhere strictly to the 5-7-5.
   I believe there's something magical about those syllables, even though they may be more apt in Chinese or Japanese.
   Some who have received one have never heard of the haiku form before.
   In one case my wife sent a text saying 'Hope you enjoy the haiku' and the recipient was expecting a scarf!
   I also like the challenge of writing to commission and trying not to fall into the deadly pit of cliches.



A  haiku is not
a scarf, it's a paper snake ;
so wear the shed skin.
           

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BIRD-MAN ON THE PLATFORM

4/4/2014

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PictureCardiff Central station














   I've become a professional complainer.
   The more I use public transport, the more cause for complaint. Both Arriva Trains Wales and Stagecoach (the buses not the drama workshops!) have felt my ire of late.
   The latter didn't give proper compensation despite the fact that the bus due to take us from Pontypridd to Merthyr late at night
simply didn't appear.
   I heard later that the driver's son had been taken ill ; but there should've been a replacement all the same.
   The taxi home was extortionate, but as I failed to get a receipt, the only thing I received was a voucher for the price of the journey.
   Arriva do generally respond with vouchers, yet often deny any wrong-doing.
   Twice in a matter of weeks both myself and younger daughter were thrown off the train (along with all the other passengers) at Merthyr Vale, so it could make up the time
. The train then proceeded on to Merthyr empty!
   When confronted, Arriva denied this had even occurred , claiming they had electronic records to prove it. I had texts and calls from my distressed daughter to prove otherwise!
   Should this happen again, I will refuse to alight. Haven't they got an obligation to passengers?
  Actually, their only obligation seems to be to targets, like the rest of society from the police force to stressed-out teachers.
   Customers seem superfluous, as we are expected to travel in ancient rolling stock which belongs in the Industrial and Maritime Museum.
   We are expected to wait for some far-off electrification, as Westminster and Cardiff Bay hit responsibility back and fore in an endless match of political tennis.
   I'm in danger of repeating myself, but none of the major political parties dare mention the 'n' word.
  Even Plaid Cymru, who could afford to be adventurous, talk about 'not-for-profit' rather than nationalisation; not arguing for a Tren Cymru network owned by the people of Wales, or buses returned to Council control as Cardiff's is today.
   Comedians used to mock British Rail, as did the right-wing press, yet companies like Arriva and Stagecoach get off very lightly.
   Just as our first ever privatised train in Wales happened to be a bus, so that tradition is regularly maintained.

   The two most popular destinations for commuters in Wales are places called 'Delayed' and 'Cancelled'.
   I genuinely admire the small firm which provides our bus service in my area of Merthyr, as they offer an alternative to Stagecoach's monopoly.
   You get to know the drivers and they know many customers by first names. They often stop outside people's houses and help the old and infirm with their bags.
  They too can be erratic with their 'phantom' buses, yet give me them over the big, impersonal companies any day.
   They're like the village pub ,however, with a 'For Sale' sign always looming above.
   Stations can be places of intense observation and inspiration, though I sometimes wish I spent less time gazing up with anxious eyes at the screen, anticipating yet another cancellation.


                       BIRD-MAN  ON  THE  PLATFORM


Striding up and down the platform
THIS TRAIN TERMINATES HERE
but it's going in his direction


his hands are pigeons taking off,
he keeps on preening himself
in every smutty window


jay tie and starling suit,
checks his mobile, wings clipped
underneath his dove-white shirt


his day's delayed upon the screen,
a hair slips out of place,
a seagull chasing crumbs of time


the next train promising :
a woman asks him a question
believing he's an official there


THIS TRAIN TERMINATES HERE
he's anxious about an appointment
with his former manager


he's preparing for an interview
at an office down the line :
the empty carriages are leaving


finger to ear like beak to a bin ;
in cages of closed-down waiting rooms
his reflection's always frowning.

                           

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