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Subject: The Target by Ivor Gurney 1890 - 1937(sound poem set to music)


Author:
jim clark..London..England
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Date Posted: 08:10:05 02/14/03 Fri

First world war poet and composer Ivor Gurney the son of a Gloucester tailor was recognised as a youngster for his musical abilities...A local clergyman paid for his education and in 1911 he studied music at the The Royal college of music....his poetry and music reflected his love of rural life....Mental instablity was to make him qiute an unpredictable character and made him a difficult student to teach....his experiences during the great war of being wounded and gassed were to seriously tip the balance of his mind towards schizophrenia....he was discharged from the army in 1918 having written several suicide letters and after suffering a complete mental breakdown...his remaining 15 years of life were blighted by his mental condition though he did periodicaly continue to write poetry.....from 1922 he was committed to an asylum until his untimely death in 1937...Surely this poem discusses the awful guilt any soldier with any glimmer of a conscience must feel when thrust into the situation of having to shoot another human being who they dont even know...for a man like Gurney who teetered on the edge of sanity such diabolical experiences must have destroyed any hope of a normal life afterwards....heres the link to the page with the sound file...
http://groups.msn.com/acousticmusiciansandpoetssoundarchive/poetrysounds.msnw?action=get_message&mview=0&ID_Message=249

Regards..

Jim Clark
PS..Dont forget you can if you prefer listen to my sound poems at my Yahoo "sound poetry" web group (look in "files") heres that link
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bloozman_uk/


All rights are reserved on this sound recording/copyright/patent Jim Clark 2003

The Target

I shot him,and it had to be
One of us "Twas him or me.
'Coulnt be helped' and none can blame
Me,for you would do the same

My mother, she cant sleep for fear
Of what might be a-happening here
To me. Perhaps it might be best
To die, and set her fears at rest

For worst is worst, and worry's done.
Perhaps he was the only son. . .
Yet God keeps still, and does not say
A word of guidance anyway.

Well, if they get me, first I'll find
That boy, and tell him all my mind,
And see who felt the bullet worst,
And his pardon,if I durst.

All's a tangle. Here's my job.
A man might rave, or shout, or sob;
And God He takes takes no sort of heed.
This is a bloody mess indeed.

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Replies:
Subject Author Date
any info on ivor gurneydan13:29:54 11/16/03 Sun
Re: The Target by Ivor Gurney 1890 - 1937(sound poem set to music)laura16:50:10 04/10/05 Sun


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