The Write Out Loud Poem of the Week is ‘Drinking where the river bed is dry’ by John Marks. It’s a poem about the companionship of man and dog, and ageing. John Marks has published two collections of poetry. On his Write Out Loud profile page he says: “The experience of fighting cancer has done me the favour of encouraging me to focus upon the here and now, but history still grips my soul.” He admires the work of Betjeman, Browning, Donne, and WB Yeats. 

 

How long has poetry been an important part of your life and can you remember why it became so?

I've been a reader of poetry all my life. I remember reading Betjeman's poems 'Norfolk' and 'Upper Lambourne' when I was young and falling in love with the music of the poems, their lilt. Later in my teenage years, I got to know Browning's poems 'Andrea Del Sarto', 'Fra Lippo Lippi' and other poems in his 1855 collection 'Men and Women'; they helped me to grow up.

Writing poetry began as a form of catharsis after the death of my infant son in 1989. My first pamphlet 'Soundbites' was published by Envoi in 1992, my second, 'Lifting the Veil' by New Hope International in 1997.

 

What kind of poetry do you write?  What motivates you?

Injustice motivates me and the imponderables of life draw me back to writing. I write all sorts of poetry. My tastes and forms are catholic. In some poems I advocate on behalf of the Kurdish people of the Middle East, particularly the Ezedi people of northern Iraq (mainly the Nineveh province),  who have suffered so dreadfully for their beliefs. I also try, sometimes, to advocate for the poor and dispossessed in this country. Occasionally, I also write a personal poem, as in this case.

 

If you could only have one poet’s work to read which one would you choose?

Either WB Yeats or John Donne.

 

Do you perform your work and if so, where are your favourite places to perform?

No. I have mobility problems and I am shy. I stuttered when I was younger and I am still a hesitant speaker.

 

If you found yourself cast away on a desert island, what luxury would you pick?

WB Yeats' 1919 collection of poems The Wild Swans at Coole. 

 

 

DRINKING WHERE THE RIVER BED IS DRY 

by John Marks

 

Charlie and I have walked our post-cancer walks

Down this narrow stretch of green in the city

For a full decade now. We’ve aged together

But not like malt, we’ve blended into each other,

Man and Dog. He recognizes the smells, me the sights,

And his life is shorter than mine. That afflicts me like

A sentence. Very few minutes pass

Without me thinking of that.  He connects me to the

Pack, little knowing that the human herd is what I find

Most offensive, most absurd. I try to fly past those nets

Of race, nationality and religion. A new Daedalus come

To cry: “my medium is the heavens, my medium is the sky.”

But we walk slower and slower each day, me clearing

Up his shit, him watching the dreary Manchester sky.