A Poem by Kingsley Amis

I am still browsing the Kingsley Amis biography (by Zachary Leader), and found this poem - untitled, undated, and unpublished until after his death.

Things tell less and less
The news impersonal
And from afar; no book
Worth wrenching off the shelf
Liquor brings dizziness
And food discomfort; all
Music sounds thin and tired,
And what picture could earn a look?
The self drowses in the self
Beyond hope of a visitor.
Desire and those desired
Fade, and no matter:
Memories in decay
Annihilate the day.

There once was an answer:
Up at the stroke of seven,
A turn round the garden
(Breathing deep and slow),
Then work, never mind what,
How small, provided that
It serves another's good.

But once is long ago
And, tell me, how could
Such an answer be less than wrong,
Be right all along?

Vain echoes, desist.

Clearly, Amis was not young when he wrote this. When he was young he seemed to have everything "the world" can offer.  Yet, in the end, what does it all amount to?

There is a comparison here, with King Solomon, who really did have everything the world can offer - and who was inspired to write the most beautiful poem in the world, "The Song of Solomon".

But he was also inspired to write Ecclesiastes,   And he too found that in the end, its all vanity, all futile.  How can it be otherwise when we are cut off from our Creator, Jehovah, our Source of life?

But Solomon was also inspired to write this:

"Remember, then, your Grand Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of distress come and the years arrive when you will say: “I have no pleasure in them”;  before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars grow dark, and the clouds return after the downpour;  in the day when the guards of the house become shaky, and the strong men stoop over, and the women quit grinding because they have become few, and the ladies looking out the windows find it dark;  when the doors to the street have been closed, when the sound of the grinding mill becomes low, when one gets up at the sound of a bird, and all the daughters of song grow faint.  Also, one is afraid of heights, and there are terrors in the street. And the almond tree blossoms, and the grasshopper drags itself along, and the caper berry bursts, because man is walking to his lasting house and the mourners walk about in the street; before the silver cord is removed, and the golden bowl is crushed, and the jar at the spring is broken, and the waterwheel for the cistern is crushed.  Then the dust returns to the earth, just as it was, and the spirit returns to the true God who gave it.

“The greatest futility!” says the congregator. “Everything is futile.”

Not only had the congregator become wise but he continually taught the people what he knew, and he pondered and made a thorough search in order to compile many proverbs.  The congregator sought to find delightful words and to record accurate words of truth.

The words of the wise are like oxgoads, and their collected sayings are like firmly embedded nails; they have been given from one shepherd.  As for anything besides these, my son, be warned: To the making of many books there is no end, and much devotion to them is wearisome to the flesh.

The conclusion of the matter, everything having been heard, is: Fear the true God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole obligation of man. For the true God will judge every deed, including every hidden thing, as to whether it is good or bad."

(Ecclesiastes 12)

Our life will not be futile if we fear the true God and keep his commandments.   If we do, then we have the prospect of everlasting life in the restored earthly Paradise ahead of us.   And more joy, and more meaning, than we can now imagine.

Friday night and Saturday have been painful - right shoulder frozen with pain, and it makes me realise how crippled I am in my left arm and shoulder. I am so limited in what I can do with the left arm, that I can't give the right arm the rest it needs to recover.

Well - what a pickle we, the damaged children of disobedient Adam, are in.  Solomon, being inspired, said it all perfectly. And Kingsley Amis expressed it well too.  And so would I, if I were up to it, poetically speaking.

 And now I have just had to contact the young sister I usually chauffeur to the Hall to warn her I won't be able to drive today.  Fortunately it is a sunny day, and the walk to the Kingdom Hall is along the seaside, so I hope, being young, she will enjoy it.