March 2004 : Feature

Guest Columnist: Yvonne Blomer

John Thompson

Ghazal XXI

There is, it seems to me, in the ghazal, something
of the essence of poetry: not the relinquishing of the
rational, not the abuse of order, not the destruction
of form, not the praise of the private hallucination
(John Thompson, Stilt Jack)

XXI

I know how small a poem can be:
the point on a fish hook;

women have one word or too many:
I watch the wind;

I'd like a kestrel's eye and know
how to hang on one thread of sky;

the sun burns up my book:
it must be all lies;

I'd rather be quiet, let the sun
and the animals do their work:

I might watch, might turn my back,
be a done beer can shining stupidly.

Let it be: the honed barb drowsing in iron water
will raise the great fish I'll ride

(dream upon dream, still the sun warms my ink
and the flies buzzing to life in my window)

to that heaven (absurd) sharp fish hook,
small poem, small offering.
(May 9, 1974)

“Ghazal XXI,” © 1991 by Shirley Gibson.
Reproduced with the permission
of House of Anansi Press.

The ghazal (pronounced “guzzle”) is a Persian form of poetry brought to Canada by John Thompson with the posthumous publication of his second book, Stilt Jack in 1978.

Though Thompson and those after him have simplified the English form, the ghazal remains image-based rather than narrative: the poet ties couplets together through recurring objects and images.

Ghazal XXI is a series of nine couplets. The poem is a slow, visual progression from poem to fish hook out into the world of nature and back. It is broken into two sentences, but punctuated to show the relationship between lines in couplets and objects in those lines, so that the poem is the hook, the women are the wind.

From the second couplet on, I imagine Thompson at his desk watching the world outside his window, but separated from it. It is important to distinguish the “I” in a poem from the poet himself, but in the case of Thompson's ghazals the experiences of the poet closely reflect those of the narrator, making it difficult to separate the two.

At the writing of this poem, Thompson's wife and daughter have left. Women's “too many” words are like the wind, but the wind is more tangible. Our eye moves, in the next couplet, from wind to sky. The thread in the sky recalls the fish hook—a longing for a bird's-eye view. Throughout the poem the hook represents the poem, the thing that holds the narrator and releases him at the same time.

From wind to sky, we move to the sun. The burned books in the fourth couplet are prophetic of the books Thompson lost when his house burnt down four months after the writing of this poem. However, without the facts of his life, the sun in the poem remains a powerful object. It plays a roll in making us realize the weakness of words; it reveals what we don't want to see when it shines on the “done beer can”; it even gives life to flies in the window.

In the fifth couplet, Thompson comes to a decision to sit quietly, “let the sun/ and the animals do their work”. This shows the power and activity of the natural world versus the inertness of man. In the last line of the sixth couplet remorse and self-loathing surface when he becomes the “done beer can shining stupidly.” The beer can, useless and empty, brings to mind Thompson's alcoholism. In the introduction to John Thompson, Collected Poems and Translations, Peter Sanger writes, “But he [Thompson] always eventually returned to a sense of responsibility for what he had done to himself and others. That responsibility is at the heart of Stilt Jack.”

From revelation we move to decision and an exit from the poem. In the seventh couplet a reversal takes place. Rather than the fisherman struggling to catch and reel in a fish, the hook: “honed barb drowsing in iron water” draws the fish, which takes the fisherman out to water. He enters an “absurd” dream state, heads toward an “absurd” heaven, leaves behind an “absurd” offering—which he also goes to.

Though this ghazal stands on its own, I recommend reading the entire 38 poems so the reader can gain a fuller sense of the struggle Thompson portrays.



Yvonne Blomer’s poetry has won awards and been published in Canadian literary journals, in addition to being in the upcoming anthology In Fine Form: An Anthology of Canadian Form Poetry. She lives in the UK where she is doing her MA in Creative Writing at the University of East Anglia.

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