Shortly after I posted my first poem here at Poetry Archive I noticed a new poet posted. Well, new to me anyway. The poet's name was Merc and I had known another Mercury7 on my previous site. The coincidence is significant only because of the incrdible talent of both these Mercs and their styles which leans toward the narrative style wrapped in well, WAR and war's leading men. The old Mercury7 focused on war and the charactes who lead and fight those wars at all levels from WWI to highly sophisticated development of what is now considered contemporary science fiction. Our Merc here on this site gives no quarter to the old Merc on Fanstroy and, in fact, our Merc, imho, is the more gifted poet and that is saying a mouthful. I told our Merc that his style reminded me of a truly gifted poet from the First World War era. So in honor of our Merc and his glorious talent I reprint this uniquely special poetic entitled "A Child's Nightmare" written by Sir Robert Grave's from his famous WWI book of poetry entitled: "Fairies and Fussiliers". tom mcmurray



"A Child's Nightmare" by Sir. Rober Graves in honor of Poetry Archive's Merc.

THROUGH long nursery nights he stood
By my bed unwearying,
Loomed gigantic, formless, queer,
Purring in my haunted ear
That same hideous nightmare thing,
Talking, as he lapped my blood,
In a voice cruel and flat,
Saying for ever, “Cat!… Cat!… Cat!…”

That one word was all he said,
That one word through all my sleep,
In monotonous mock despair.
Nonsense may be light as air,
But there’s Nonsense that can keep
Horror bristling round the head,
When a voice cruel and flat
Says for ever, “Cat!… Cat!… Cat!…”

He had faded, he was gone
Years ago with Nursery Land,
When he leapt on me again
From the clank of a night train,
Overpowered me foot and head,
Lapped my blood, while on and on
The old voice cruel and flat
Says for ever, “Cat!… Cat!… Cat!…”

Morphia drowsed, again I lay
In a crater by High Wood:
He was there with straddling legs,
Staring eyes as big as eggs,
Purring as he lapped my blood,
His black bulk darkening the day,
With a voice cruel and flat,
“Cat!… Cat!… Cat!… Cat!…” he said, “Cat!… Cat!…”

When I’m shot through heart and head,
And there’s no choice but to die,
The last word I’ll hear, no doubt,
Won’t be “Charge!” or “Bomb them out!”
Nor the stretcher-bearer’s cry,
“Let that body be, he’s dead!”
But a voice cruel and flat
Saying for ever, “Cat!… Cat!… Cat!”

Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 06/06/2022 10:31PM by easyeverett.

Thanks Tom. I have read quite a bit of the works of the man with the ironic name of Graves.
New here, only to you and other new comers. This is not said with any disrespect, but I first posted on the mule in 2001. Then I was Terry Johnson, I became twotenranch, and finially merc. Not for the messenger of the gods, but a short for mercenary. There are three things I know at a professional level, cowboying, wildland firefighting, and war. All three were chosen.
I do find that as I age, and all wars are behind me, I recite more poetry than I read or write. Bobby Service, Billy the Bard and EA Poe seem to dominate my thoughts. (In Winslow Az, it's mostly Poe) "The crisis, thank heaven, the danger is past, the lingering illness is over at last, the fever called living is conquered at last"
The mule has been an outlet for me for a long time. I miss the ones who dominated the pages when I arrived, JP, Jack, Bruce, Kelly, Lgreen, et al. Marty has returned, Les is older than I on the page, as, I believe is Pete.
Anyway, thank you for your kind words. We have shared the most amazing thing man can experience, being war. For good or ill, it is the high point is most combat vets lives. For me they all run together, Viet Nam is very little different than the two days on Madagascar when the wonderful soldiers of the Legion broke about a hundred citizens of another eruopian country out of a prison, or a tour of Iraq.
Live long and prosper Tom. Live in peace if that is what you choose.
tlj

"New here, only to you and other new comers." It didn't take long for me to see that this unique grouping of creative and independent cusses had shared many years together on this site. Yes, new to me which maintains all the nuanced pleasure of "new" though you were "old" to those fellow writers and friends on this site. That goes to my theories on relativism as the only rational "ism" yet created by man due to its ability to expose inherent contradictions in moral certidude and ethical philosophy. Without, yes, empathy in a given situation that encompasses not the error in moral choice or ethical conduct but what surrounded the error, judgement is blurred by the generic impotence of Law. Your past poetic history on this site was unknown to me so in relative terms you were "new" and I was greatly impressed with what I read. The sad, downside of relativism is that once familiarity infects the excitation of discovery, one's level of impression is fundamentally downgraded by its very lack of nuanced virginity. LOL. Take care Merc and you are absolutely spot on with your observation about war. No emotion in life holds even a glimmer of equality with the total, emotional experience of shared combat, fear, maiming and death. If man, in his oft fallible wisdom, tried to create an experience of equal magnitude and depth, he would fail, miserably. That, I think you would agree Merc, is where the artist becomes our conduit to the inhuman as well as human experience of war. Take care my friend. Your talent willl never cease to be appreciated by this old and getting older by the minute veteran. tom