The Poet and the Pilot (a Poem on Writing Poetry)

The Poet and the Pilot
(A Poem Written During WWI)


“How do you write Poetry?
And why is it so important…?”
asked the General.
I said:
Poetry is a story Sir,
Poetry is a design
And a plan…sir!

The General then said,
“Pilot or poet, explain
Why you had all those
Writings in your cockpit,
A poem written all over
The walls, that long,
Long poem, you wrote during
Flight, last night, under
Fire and alone!”

A plane, a one-seater—
That’s all it was sir,
Flying perfectly straight
Perfectly level, sedate,
Over the German trenches
Into no-mans land, I went
(in a daze writing poetry)
With an open throttle—!
That’s poetry sir, in combat!...
The engine is my mind, words
Are the fuel ignites the engine
We’re both the same, Sir:
The poet and the pilot’s head
Both in that same pen, the one I
Used to write all over the walls,
And ceiling, like unfired bullets,
but words, like the Machine gun,
attached onto my plane, standing
Back and down, behind, I went
Over enemy lines “Come on!
Come on!” the ground
Enemy said, called, yelled…!
Down fast I came, my
Words also, were rolling,
Turning, in my head, through
My pen, onto the walls,
As they dared… all
Over my cockpit, while
Flying down, down, in
Empty air…No breaks in there,
I told myself, sir… (no need
For brakes, in poetry)

Now on the ground taxi-ing
No goggles on, inside
The cockpit, something
Snapped…! My head jerked
Like a fired pistol: now
On the ground everything’s
A muzzle; I give the salute
The scramble starts, to
The plane, me, the pilot
Spitting hard, spitting out
Words, onto the interior
Cockpit frame; trying to
Write the last stanza, word
Trying to accomplish
Something; someone
Says, “What’s wrong with
You?” “Nothing,” I say—
Then he notices all the writings
On the cockpit walls, like on
A dirty tablecloth: I wrote this
Poem, in the middle of a battle,
I said, someone owes something
It’s all blood-strained red;
“Let It be!” I said, Sir, but the
Officer kept on reading, the
Walls, ceiling of the cockpit,
And said, “This reads like
A new 21st Century, Iliad.”
And I said, “That’s how you
Write poetry,…Sir!”

7-10-2008 (No: 2412)