The Chickasaw Plum

 

Home     Short Stories     Poetry     Articles     Humor     Links

 

 

 

The Truck Driver Poet: Three Poems by C.L. Guthrie

 

John R. Guthrie

 

 

 

Full disclosure: The poet was also my father. Clarence Luther Guthrie, Sr. He was born on a frosty and windswept day on January 31, 1899. He arrived in this world in an unpainted clapboard tenant shack in the miniscule rural community of White Plains, located in the Piedmont hills of South Carolina in the Smoky Mountain Chain of Appalachia. At 12 he gained employment as a sweeper in the cotton mill—50 cents a day--sunrise to sunset, six days a week. Following Army service escorting the bodies of soldiers who fell on the killing fields of WW I Europe home, he began college. Though a straight “A” student, he was forced to drop out due to the Great Depression; “Hoover Days” was his bitter phrase for those troubled times. The poet eventually found a job as a janitor in the US Post Office. He parlayed that position into employment as a truck driver for the postal service, working there until his retirement. Though he had no formal training as a poet, he was an autodidact, influenced in particular by the works of the transcendentalist poets such as Emerson and Thoreau. He published here and there and gained a degree of regional renown as poet. He was also a civic leader, (Appalachian Commission, Hospital Board, etc.) as well as an enthusiastic and dedicated labor leader (AF of L CIO and National Association of Letter Carriers). South Carolina was then and remains viciously anti-union. Inevitably, during the McCarthy era, he was labeled variously a Communist, a Bolshevik, and perhaps more generously, a Menshevik. The comment I favor, though, came from an impoverished neighbor who said, “…a Communist? Please then, Dear Lord, send us more Communists.”

 

Examples of this blue collar poet’s work are below:      

 

 

 

The Never Ebbing Tide

           

            1. The Prayer

 

Dear Lord, I see this weary world

With human cargo fraught,

A pygmy world of pygmy men

With trains of pygmy though.

 

Futility lays hold on me,

In vain we’ve toiled and fought,

In vain we’ve spilled our heroes’ blood,

In vain our victories wrought.

 

How long, how long, Oh Lord, must we

Await the promised day

When the lamb shall lie in perfect peace –

Nor fear the beasts of prey?

 

            2. The answer

I fashioned man deep of my thought;

From nothingness the spheres;

I’ll work my will upon this earth

If it takes ten thousand years.

 

Time weighs not heavy on my hands,

Time is a boundless sea.

An aeon is but a passing hour

Spaced in infinity.

 

My will’s a never ebbing tide

Unchanged by smiles and tears;

I’ll work my purpose hear with man

If it takes ten million years.

 

When I began the race of man,

My purpose I decreed,

Nor shall his pulsing, erring thoughts

My moveless plan impede.

 

There is an upward sweep, divine,

A universal swell,

That lifts man on the crest of time

To heights no tongue can tell.

 

 Man’s destiny is as the stars,

And there at last shall he,

Through halting steps, through vaulting faith,

Achieve that destiny.

 

 

§

 

 

PARADOX

 

Of all like’s inconsistencies

This one I most decry:

Men seal the prophet’s burning lips,

Then bid him prophesy.

 

 

§

 

The Money Changers

 

The tricksters, driven from the temple, soon returned

And bought it with their wealth of gold.

They bought if from without and from within,

And captive Christ at mammon’s booth is sold.

 

Their preacher offers solace in the end,

To all content to be a slave.

The verities of life are taught and thin—

Their preacher offers peace – beyond the grave.

 

“The poor you have with you, and always must –

The rich are very good, and very just ---

The meek shall own the earth – when they are dust;

And it’s no sin for those of means to lust.”

 

Indeed, the Lord may be in such a den,

But weeping for the erring sons of men.

 

 

 

 

 

§

 

 

Dr. John R. Guthrie practiced family medicine in the Smokey Mountain foothills of Appalachia for years. As an adolescent he was a U.S. Marine infantry rifleman and later served as a physician in the U.S. Navy Reserve. He lives in Southern California and is a writer and social activist as well as the editor of “The Chickasaw Plum: Politics and the Arts Online”:

 

With appreciation to first publisher, HARVARD SQUARE COMMENTARY

 

 

............................................................................................................................................................

 

 

The Machine Gunner’s Poet:

Charles Baudelaire’s Tout Entière and The Albatross

By John R. Guthrie

 

Full four decades and more ago, I was that most earnest of creatures, a Lance Corporal of Marines, 19 years old, incredibly skinny, and the leader of a machine gun section in the landing force of a gunboat called USS Little Rock. We’d just returned from the revolution in the Caribbean that followed the assassination of the infamous yet ever colorful Dominican despot, Generalissimo Rafael Leonídas Trujillo, (El Jefe as he was called publicly, or very privately, Chapitas, "bottlecaps" -- because of his plethora of medals and, equally descriptively, El Chivas, “The goat” because of his sexual proclivities).

Once the imbroglio in Ciudad Trujillo was resolved, we steamed northward to dock at Pier 7, US Naval Station, Norfolk, and the Bos’n’s Mate of the Watch piped liberty call. I finally wandered alone away from the B-girls and bars of Norfolk’s then notorious South Main Street to an area of small shops and noticed a bookstore. I entered and browsed around.

There was a display of small, thin books published under the imprint of the Peter Pauper Press, all priced so as to be within that lance corporal’s budget. The book I picked up had, certainly for a young man of very modest educational accomplishment from rural South Carolina, the curiously heretical title of LES FLEURS du MAL, or FLOWERS OF EVIL by someone then unknown to me named Charles Baudelaire. I thumbed through it, pausing to read here and there. I was entranced. Now what did the young machine gunner discover there that so captivated him?

In short, there were words of such power and beauty as to convey to him that there were kingdoms and castles, there were powers and principalities, far beyond those that he’d previously entertained or even thought possible. With all due appreciation for the stepping stone the United States Marine Corps provided for me, the book cracked open the door to a very different world than either the one in which I was residing or the one from which I’d sprung. And when I peeked into that world, against all odds, I saw myself someday, somehow, as part of it.

Baudelaire, to refresh the reader’s memory, was born in 1821. In our times, he would run a very good risk of being institutionalized—perhaps in prison for his opium addiction, perhaps in a mental institution on heavy doses of antipsychotics because of the chaos of his inner life.

He had a mistress, Jean Duvall, with whom he was totally, madly obsessed. She’s often charitably described as being “an actress,” and a “lesbian.” In fact, you might more accurately describe her as a member of a much older profession and polymorphously perverse in her sexual orientation. Better, think of her as being that person you met as an undergraduate on that lost weekend in Myrtle Beach or Fort Lauderdale, Nassau or  Acapulco and came back to your sane and ordered life, wondered whether you should get tested for something, hoped for the best, and tried to forget that it ever happened.

Baudelaire, to the abject horror of his very aristocratic mother, clung fast to Jean Duval his whole life through. Below is one of the milder erotic poems he wrote of his love for that dreadfully flawed woman. Perhaps you can hear resonating through it still 150 years later, the intensity of his affection for her:

 

Tout Entière  

 

The Devil up my attic stair

Came tiptoeing a while ago

And, trying to catch me unaware,

Said laughing, “I should like to know,

 

“Of all her many charms, what springs

Most often to your mind? Of all

The rose-colored and shadowy things

Whereby her beauty may enthrall,

 

“Which is the sweetest?” –O my soul,

I answered the abhorrèd Guest:

Her beauty is complete and whole.

No single part is loveliest,

 

“When she is near, I cannot say

What gives me such intense delight,

She dazzles like the break of day,

She comforts like the fall of night,

 

”My senses seem to merge in one,

The harmony that rules her being

Is all my knowledge – I have none

Of hearing, smelling, touching, seeing.

 

“No, I cannot make a choice

In this sublime bewilderment.

Perhaps the music of her scent!

Perhaps the perfume of her voice!

                                                   

 

I hope Jean Duval was as impressed by the brilliance of Baudelaire’s metaphor and the poetry of his imagination as was I.

My favorite of Baudelaire’s poems, though, from that very first day when I picked up that small volume, was and still is “The Albatross.” Now remember, I was a seagoing Marine. How could I not be intrigued by a poem named for those magnificent creatures one might see from time to time gliding so effortlessly high above the ship as you stood the gun watch in one distant place or another?  

But in lieu of my telling you about this pivotal poem and my reaction to it, allow me to include it and you decide if it works at any level for you:

 

The Albatross

 

Sometimes, to entertain themselves, the men of the crew

Lure upon the deck an unlucky albatross, one of those vast

Birds of the sea that follow unwearied the voyage through,

Flying in slow and elegant circles above the mast.

 

No sooner have they disentangled him from their nets

Than this aerial colossus, shorn of his pride,

Goes hobbling pitiably across the planks and lets

His great wings hang like heavy, useless oars at his side.

 

How droll is the poor floundering creature, how limp and weak –

He, but a moment past so lordly, flying in state!

They tease him: One of them tries to stick a pipe in his beak;

Another mimics with laughter his odd lurching gait.

 

The Poet is like that wild inheritor of the cloud,

A rider of storms, above the range of arrows and slings:

Til exiled on earth, at bay amid the jeering crowd,

He cannot walk for his unmanageable wings.

 

 

The above poems are taken from a 1936 volume in my library which the inimitable Edna St. Vincent Millay and her cotranslator George Dillon undertook the tricky business of translating Les Fleurs du Mal so that it worked as well in English as it did in French. I favor their translations because they adhere to the original Alexandrines, or six beat lines typical of French poetry instead of shifting to the iambic pentameter more common in English. Also, the original French poem and the translation are on facing pages for comparison.

So there you have him; Charles Baudelaire. His personal life was an ongoing tragedy. According to some, in fact just about everyone that mattered, he was an immoral person -- his works were banned by church and state early on for their blasphemous and sexual content. He was improvident. He was comatose and blind from neurosyphillis when he died in poverty at the age of 46. But for all that he was not, Charles Baudelaire was a Poet. And what a Poet!

 

--End--

 

Gawaine Caldwater Ross of Boston is a frequent contributor to the Pl.  He won an honorable mention in Writer's Digest annual non-rhyming poetry contest recently for his poem The Wanderer. Holyday, his latest poem, follows:

 

 

 

The Holyday

Gawaine Caldwater Ross

 

 

Through the rays of holy light

I ambled in the forest green,

Filtering through the morning mist

The sound of distant water falling.

Deer leapt off across the ferns,

Cedar trees some ten feet thick

Lay across steep wet ravines.

I was treading on the sacred ground

Of Eartha and her swelling mounds:

Oh She was fully sexed that day.

In my mind I walked with Embla

The very first woman, born of an elm,

And I was Ask, the mighty ash

Thick and tall and proud and strong.

We stepped across the Rainbow Bridge

And found a soft place in the grass

For rooting in the summer sun.

She was human, and yet more,

Someone to love, and to adore.

No open space beneath a dome

Of church or mosque or synagogue

Can ever claim to be as pure

As the mountain sky so high and blue

We inhaled as we drifted through

The heartscape of our lives inweaving.

 

 

 

 

The Chickasaw Plum  -  Volume V - Number 1 - January 2008

 

 

Home     Short Stories     Poetry     Articles     Humor     Links