The ODD ANGLE

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIII, Issue 46, 24 February 1942, Page 4

The ODD ANGLE

(By MACLURE)

• OUR POETS I don't know whether you'vi noticed it, but this war hasn't pro duced much poetry so far. During the Boer War our poets sprang to ii and in the days of the Great Wai i hardly a day passed but something I really pood was served up. The out put both in song and verse for thf ] latter period was enormous and what is more, many of the songs of those days are prized to-day. O1 the poetry, much of it was just so and has been forgotten, although every little while one comes across a noble passage. Just what has hap pened to the poetic souls of this war period I couldn't say, but surely now that the scorched earth policy is being adopted in Whitehall some poet will rise to the occasion and celebrate the event in verse. • \XD POETKV And. speaking of the war poetry of 1014-1918, yesterday I came across an old reinforcement magazine of those days—one of those published aboard ship, crammed with the works of real geniuses of whom, alas, very little has since been heard—in poetic circles, I mean. Carried away by the righteousness of our cause and encouraged by us they had let themselves go. Reading it all over again in the gloom of to-day one is forced to wonder what has gone wrong with the works nowadays. Of course there was a certain amount of moaning to be discerned in these same verses—here and there one can detect that the poet was not altogether convinced that the patriotic speeches of our politicians rang true. In one such verse the poet, after sarcastically referring to his reading of one inspiring speech telling of Old England's Vanguard—in Hansard—"As delivered by party politician Smith," remarked of the said gentleman: "But, he'd make us think a trifle, if we saw him with a rifle, and we knew which reinforcement he was with." Ah—that'd be the day, we all agreed. • OUR ORATORS The one thing more than any other responsible for the setbacks we have received during this past two years and a half of war is, to my mind, the speechifying we have had forced on us in lieu of precautionary measures. Fireside chats and brilliant orations, after a time, leave one mentally weary and physically ill. Slick phrases, "well-coined sentences" and slogans, particularly slogans* have had their day. Wellmeant, clever and ingenious they have far too often been served up to us instead of those other things the shortage of which has brought death and destruction. If ever a scorched earth policy needed carrying out anywhere, surely the best of all places for it to start is in the notes of our oratorical commentators —before they get going. Looking back on the long list of marathon spruikers of the past two years and a half, one is angered to think of the terrific loss of the nations' time, to remember the unfulfilled prophecies of the ingenious commentators and military experts, the pie-crust promises, the ridiculous, optimistic expressions of our leaders, leaders of times of whom it would have been better for all of us had they been content to act as humble followers—of the more commonsensei man in the street. The tragedy of this war, as I see it, lies in the license that has been given to the orators, to the "wise guys" who, | unfortunately are only wise now, after so much has gone. And now, lest we remember their folly, the word has gone forth, "No recriminations," "Don't talk" and "Keep mum, the same as dad does." Unfortunately for mum, though, dad is going to be roped in as well as kept from listening in. So far nobody has thought out—or at any rate proclaimed—a law against thinking. Not yet. Dad may have a chance yet to think for himself—even if he's not allowed to broadcast his thoughts. \\ hen he does, those speeches will I oe shorter, more to the point—and! will be followed by action. |