The Provocative Poetry of Nick Cooke
- Elizabeth Gracen
- 10 hours ago
- 13 min read
By Elizabeth Gracen:
The Flapper Press Poetry Café features the work of poets from around the globe. It is an honor to share their work and learn more about their lives, influences, and love of poetry.
This week, we are honored to feature the work of poet Nick Cooke.
Nick Cooke has had around 75 poems published in a variety of outlets, including Acumen, Agenda, Ink Sweat & Tears, the High Window Journal, and I Am Not a Silent Poet, along with around 35 poetry reviews and literary articles. In 2016, his poem "Tanis" won a Wax Poetry and Art Competition. In addition, he has published several short stories and completed many novels, theatre plays, and screenplays for both film and TV.
Please meet Nick Cooke!
Elizabeth Gracen: Nick, thank you so much for your poetry submission to Flapper Press. Please tell our readers a little bit about yourself and how and when you started writing poetry.
Nick Cooke: I’ve been interested in creative writing for literally as long as I can remember. After a few short stories inspired by the Space Age—just before and after Apollo 11—I started writing poetry at around ten or eleven and had several poems published in school magazines before setting up a short-lived but emotionally draining poetry group and magazine during my first year at university. Much of my juvenilia, if I were to flatter myself sufficiently to term it that, was embarrassingly over-written and show-offy, but I like to think I at least showed some relish in language and a reasonable ability to handle a range of forms, including one decent stab at a Shakespearian love sonnet addressed to my first girlfriend at 16. In my late teens and early twenties, when I took an English Literature degree, I increasingly became more focused on being a critic than a poet but have periodically returned to writing poems throughout my adulthood. In the last couple of years, that return has been a more and more prominent part of my creative life—in fact of my life, period. I have some regrets that I have not always focused exclusively on poetry, but exploring many different literary fields has had its benefits too.
EG: The three poems that we are publishing for this article have such a wry gravity to them. It’s as if you have your feet in two worlds at the same time. There is a heaviness of subject, yet you side-eye it as if you’re discovering cracks in the harsh reality of your focus. Do you find this a precarious balancing act as you write, or does it reveal itself as the poem progresses?
NC: I think that your "side-eye" comment is very accurate, although when I went through a "heavily political" phase about ten years ago there was arguably too much weight and not enough cracks in the reality (more rawness than wryness, for the most part). (Having said that, some readers and editors seemed/seem to respond to the less subtle, more uncompromising stance I often took up and might not have appreciated the attempt to inject irony and/or balance.) I think the tension is something I seek to create from the start of the process now, but as the poem progresses, I’m on the lookout for opportunities to crank it up, often by undercutting the threat of sounding sanctimonious about whatever the issues at hand are. Very often I try to move away from initial violence down a path involving some form of human or artistic touch, as in "News of the World," where I try to speculate on why someone would cling on to a piece of paper when getting their hands slashed by a mugger.
EG: I always like to ask our poets about their influences. Who are some of the writers, poets, musicians, and artists who play a role in your creativity, and why?
NC: In truth I might have more poetic influences than might be considered a good idea, from the viewpoint of trying to achieve some kind of organic whole and to avoid seeming overly eclectic. However, I believe in a healthy pluralism when it comes to style and approach. My "lighter side" was probably fueled more by Larkin than anyone else, though early Simon Armitage did a lot for me in this area, particularly "The Dead Sea Poems," which probably had a bigger effect on getting me writing poems regularly than any other collection of the last 30 years or so.
As for my more serious, political side, I have to nominate the great Primo Levi as a core influence, and my "In Memoriam: Primo Levi," an attempt to distil some of the most memorable sections in his account of his time at Auschwitz, "If This Is a Man," is probably among my strongest poems. There is also (though some readers of this might baulk at my saying so as a male writer) a strong feminist element in my poetry, which was certainly stoked by Carol Ann Duffy’s "The World’s Wife" and more recently by the work of Fran Lock.
Music is very important to me and has featured in quite a few of my poems. I was in a post-punk band for some years, around a decade and a half ago, and at that time my creativity was almost entirely invested in writing and performing songs rather than more obvious literary activity, although of course Bob Dylan’s career and Nobel Prize win has driven home the fact that the boundaries between the two worlds are clearly blurred—to use an unintended oxymoron. It will sound rather pretentious to say it, but I like to believe music has had an effect on my ability to handle rhythm and tempo in my poetry despite the fact that the three poems you’re publishing don’t particularly bear that out. Most poets and critics would agree it’s important to have a good ear if you want to make full use of what poetry can offer, as opposed to prose. If I had to pick one common failing among some contemporary poetry, it might be that too many writers overlook or undervalue the importance of the musical or auditory aspect.
Growing up in the era of punk and New Wave certainly left its mark on me, when it comes to my "in-yer-face" side, so the likes of The Jam, the Clash, and Talking Heads were undoubtedly big influences. David Byrne’s offbeat and super-quirky approach as a songwriter had a major effect, as did Mr. Dylan in my even earlier days.
EG: We live on different continents, yet our worlds are both a bit wobbly these days. I’m curious about your observations of America at the moment as well as your observations of your own country. You don’t have to get political—I’m more interested in the heartbeat and mind of what you observe. How do these observations impact your poetry?
NC: Quite a number of my poems of the last nine months are about America, past and present, particularly the villanelles on the theme of freedom that I submitted for the Flapper Press competition earlier in the year. I have tried not to focus too directly or copiously on the "Mango Mussolini," as he is often dubbed, and more on the state of mind that, indirectly at least, led to his catastrophic return to the presidency. If possible, I would rather see him as a symptom more than a cause, even if that’s actually even more depressing as a reflection on where the USA is at present. I saw quite a bit of proto-MAGA culture when travelling through the South as a teenager in 1979, so I can say I have some idea of how deep it goes. And in studying the Civil War and Reconstruction periods as part of my research for a play I’ve written, I gained a clear sense of how deep-rooted many of the "Confederate" attitudes have proved themselves.
Having said that, I’m not a lot happier about the current state of the UK, particularly our lurch to the Trump-aligning right—at least if the current polls are to be believed—and our government’s indecisive stance on just about every issue, along with our Premier’s barely concealed pandering to Trump’s insane whims. And in writing about America, I have also tried to celebrate the good, even great, side, flagging up the fight against slavery, the development of the Constitution, the Civil Rights Movement, and the courage of many people now resisting the growing dictatorship (witness the "No Kings" protests). I hope and believe that the anti-authoritarian movement will swell and "shall overcome," eventually, and that the nation will emerge stronger and more unified as a result. I’ll certainly be penning a celebratory villanelle or ten as and when that happens!
EG: You’ve chosen the word “provocative” as an overall description of your poetry. Please elaborate on why you are inclined to this provocativeness in your work. Is that always your first inclination? Do you have a particular writing practice that you adhere to? If you’re comfortable with it, let us in on your process.
NC: As I have a fear of my poetry getting lost in the general morass with so many poets being published—in itself a very good thing, of course—I think my first inclination is to provoke a strong response and to catch and sustain the reader’s attention, even if I could be accused of resorting to the use of quite direct and even confrontational methods. I’m not always the most subtle, at least not in the early parts of my poems, starting actually with the titles. Calling a poem "Treblinka Dreaming," for instance, might cause some offence, as if I were trying to exploit the drama/melodrama of a historical period that many could maintain should be treated with quiet dignity, if treated at all, and even suggesting—which I’m obviously not, as I hope my Primo Levi poem would prove, if proof were needed—that there’s something unreal or ephemeral about the topic. And as the poem moves on, the apparently flippant tone might unsettle some readers; but as I made clear in my comment on the poem’s background, I was hopeful that a dream I genuinely had could be used to suggest a few obvious yet often ignored truths about the (at least potential) avoidability of genocidal atrocities.
But regarding my process, I’d say I try to start with something concrete, rather than an abstraction, and go bottom-up rather than top-down to speak in very generic and indeed overly simplistic terms. Having said that, villanelles, of which I’ve written many this year, could be an exception here in that the repeated lines need a degree of force that do tend to spring from a more abstract provenance.
EG: As a poet provocateur, what do you hope that your readers come away with from reading your work?
NC: I had quite an interesting experience a few months ago when giving an online reading, with Fran Lock compering the event. Setting out to ensure that at least my contribution wouldn’t just wash over the audience, I chose a poem called "My Husband the Artist," one of my more obviously feminist pieces, which is based on a true story about a woman subjected to an appalling acid attack by her partner, who is portrayed, with obviously bitter sarcasm, as a great artist of his kind, using her face as his canvas. It’s extremely, even excessively, close to the knuckle, and Fran made no secret of her reaction—visibly wincing and saying, pointedly, "That’s really sharp, Nick," not in a complimentary way. She appeared to feel I’d gone too far, and I sense most of those present shared her misgivings. But one member of the group—quite a well-known American poet and one featured recently on the Flapper Press site—sent me a message thanking me for a "very fine poem." It wasn’t that, I felt, but his response was quite typical of other times I’ve gone no-holds-barred at readings: there is always someone who actually sees the point in doing what I did. Since then I’ve tended to mix and match more, as long as I’ve been allowed to read at least a handful of poems; i.e., I usually start by "going nuclear" by way of ensuring I won’t be ignored before reverting to what you rightly see as wry gravity for the rest of the set or even gearing down to mainly comic poems.
EG: Nick, thanks so much for doing this interview and sharing your poetry. Please let our readers know where they can find your work and what you’re up to next!
NC: Many thanks to you too, Elizabeth. I very much enjoy what I find on the Flapper Press site and am honoured to be included on it. Several of my 80-odd published poems come up when I’m Googled, though why they appear and others, often better ones, don’t is a mystery to me. I’m currently hoping to get my three completed collections published, but as many poets will attest, relative success in terms of individual poems being accepted doesn’t necessarily or immediately translate into successful full-book submissions.
I do appear in a couple of anthologies, both of which I can honestly recommend: Poems For a Liminal Age (SPM Publications, 2015) and To Kingdom Come: Voices Against Political Violence (The Onslaught Press, 2016). My contributions to the latter are not for the faint-hearted, as in addition to a poem entitled "The Art of War Crimes," about the 1995 Srebrenica massacre, they include one on the murder, torture, and serial sexual abuse of Kenyan detainees in the Mau Mau period of the 1950s. I suppose quite a substantial element of my work should come with a health warning attached, but as I’ve indicated, overall my work reflects my ever-changing moods, and there’s plenty of softer stuff. For instance, one of my three collections is entitled What Love’s Got and focusses on an exploration of many types of love—although come to think of it, there are a few quite bitter poems in there too, mainly about having my heart broken by various unscrupulous characters! I suppose I wouldn’t want anyone to think I stay mellow for too long!
News of the Day
A pianist surprised by muggers
did a number by Charles Bronson
and held on to his wallet despite
getting his hands slashed to ribbons
by a knife he described as giant
in Hampstead of all places.
It could have ended his career
but "his tendons survived by a whisker",
said his agent, breathless with relief,
stitching next month’s tour back together
with somewhat less patience, I’ll wager,
than the doctors had shown to the hands –
or the muggers, for that matter:
the crash-helmeted muggers, to boot.
Meanwhile the man himself does not repent:
Somebody’s got to stand up
and all that vigilante jazz,
and you ponder what the goddamn wallet held
that was worth risking so much for.
Don’t tell me it was just the principle,
or even the cash or the cards.
No, it must have been something quite worthless
to any hand-slashing philistine.
A photo, perhaps, of a long-lost love,
or a distinguished maestro
never adequately recognised
before it was too late. But if
I had to lay a bet I’d say
it would most like be a jagged scrap
with a fragment from an age-old score,
nostalgic in the extreme.
His first concert, while still living with
his parents. A fiendish bar or two
he never really mastered
though he scribbled the notes on an old
bus ticket and sneaked it home,
behind the backs of his jealous peers,
to plug at for hours on the clanking upright.
About the poem:
The poem is based upon a newspaper article reporting the incident described. I tried to imagine the emotions and thoughts of someone so desperate to hold on to something precious—surely not just money—that he would risk serious injury, even death. Perhaps I strayed a little too far towards sentiment, even naivete, but I saw the man’s response to violence as heroic in a way that suggested he must have some kind of "higher purpose" in life.
Drone Protest
At home we are toys, the new kites,
flown by what we believe are known
as nerds or anoraks; there’s been some issue
with danger of collision, but at least
we do have our fans, even if they wash
little and downplay social skills.
Up here it’s another picture. Though we just
perform as ordered, no more no less,
the people on the ground don’t appear
to welcome our deliveries.
Talk about shooting the messenger!
We’ll bet that in their workplace
they cosy up to the bosses just like us
or at least keep their heads down and do
what they’re damn well told. So by what right
dare they impugn us? Sometimes it
really makes our fuel boil.
Yet life’s not all bad.
Many of us relish that one good canter
above the clouds, our minds emptying
of all thoughts and worries. It’s not like
we have to concentrate, it’s all
automatic. Our manned peers
call us spoilt, say we don’t know
we’re born.
Admittedly, they get to live
longer, most of the time, but we
go to drone heaven and enjoy
many drone virgins and become
everlasting heroes of our nation.
Plus, we look cooler: a future design classic,
leaner and meaner, the sharks of the sky,
with no stupid cockpit or front window,
so you can’t see what’s going on inside.
That’s how we keep our mystique.
No stupid little men
sitting around with stupid ear-muffs.
So sucks to regular aircraft
with their snooty ways.
When they go down they’re just
ordinary casualties among so many
names on a warplane memorial.
Who remembers their stats?
Do they ever hit 100%?
In their fighter jet dreams!
They should stick that in their fuselage
and smoke it.
But we hate to sound bitter,
it’s no way to bow out.
At the end of our brief time
the motto should be
‘Better to drone for a day
than moan for a lifetime.’
Amen to that we say,
as our noses start to dip,
our air speed maxes out,
and we open unseen eyes
to go about our job
in superior silence.
About the poem:
In certain hands, drones seem harmless enough, albeit often an extension of their owners’ nerdiness, but of course in other contexts they are very far from it. In whimsical vein, I tried to imagine what the inner life of a carrier of deadly weapons might be like, particularly given the fact that more conventional bombers might look down on them as parvenus.
Treblinka Dreaming
Last night I walked
clean out of the camp
through the carelessness of guards.
Though unarmed I purloined
a car and drove back
to England, only to return
a week later for
my scheduled execution date.
What if anything does this
tell us about human nature,
mine at least?
That at root we are cravenly
acquiescent beyond belief
or reason, just ‘following
orders’ like our tormentors?
All humanity = total sheep?
*
Wait. I’ve remembered a detail.
Why I came back was
during my week in Blighty
I acquired persuasive skills
of such a high order
that I genuinely believed
I could convince our captors
to free us on the instant.
What school was that?
And how did I enrol?
Who were the teachers?
Were they inspired or mad?
I lived to tell the tale
so I assume they were
pretty damn good.
About the poem:
As with "Drone Protest," the apparently flippant tone might offend some, but I was hopeful that a dream I genuinely had could be used to suggest a few obvious yet often ignored truths about the avoidability of genocidal atrocities. An episode of a famous TV series on Auschwitz, recounting how guards had to blot out their consciences with copious doses of alcohol, made me feel that the "still small voice of humanity" was possibly closer to turning the course of Nazi history than anyone living through it could have surmised.
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