Tom Raworth’s ‘8.06 p.m. June 10th 1970’ (LentBlog4)

Each Saturday of this LentBlog series I am going to post an old post from my archives. Here is one of my favourites, about the shortest Lifesaving Poem, by the late Tom Raworth.



8.06 p.m. June 10th 1970





Tom Raworth (from Jumpstart, ed. Cliff Yates, Poetry Society, 1999)


I owe my knowledge of ‘8.06 p.m. June 10th 1970’ to the great Cliff Yates, specifically his marvellous book of teaching poetry and poetry writing Jumpstart (Poetry Society, 1999).  Which means I took it seriously. He quotes the poem in full on page 6, in a section titled ‘What is Poetry?’

Cliff follows it up in the book with Ian McMillan’s ‘Sonny Boy Williamson is Trying to Cook a Rabbit in a Kettle’ and Wendy Cope’s ‘The Uncertainty of the Poet’ both of which, like Raworth’s, are playful with language, syntax and meaning. Not least among their pleasures is their explicit questioning of what a poem should do and be. (Jumpstart contains a great short piece by Raworth on his poem and the sequence it comes from which is well worth reading.)

Fool that I was and stung by Foal Failure I took in these poems to the class of nine and ten-year olds I was working with at the time. I had considered ‘Birth of the Foal’ to be a banker of a poem in the classroom. There was no way it could fail. It failed dismally. I had nothing left to lose.

The riot I expected never happened. I am not saying the lessons we did on ‘8.06 p.m. June 10th 1970’, Sonny Boy Williamson and ‘The Uncertainty of the Poet’ were comfortable or easy, but I will go to my grave knowing those children engaged with them in a way that surprised and delighted me, taking us all into a place of deep discussion and debate I would not have thought possible.

The poems they wrote arising from these discussions were some of the most challenging I have read anywhere, by anybody. Overnight they transformed  themselves into the most avant-garde group of writers I have worked with.

I spend a lot of my time reflecting on what we mean by ‘signs of progress’ in the creative work of young writers. I spend just as much time reflecting on what this looks like in the work of beginner teachers. One of my very tentative conclusions goes something like this: it is about risk. Now we can debate for the next ten years what we mean by this, so I am going to use a very narrow definition here to explain what I mean by risk in this instance. I take it to mean the capacity to proceed along a line of action (teaching, writing) knowing at any moment the whole thing could collapse around you but proceeding anyway in good faith with resilience and joy and tenacity. The poets I am drawn to (Jean Sprackland, Peter Carpenter, Andy Brown, Siân Hughes, Ann Gray, Deryn Rees-Jones, Christopher Southgate, Michael Laskey) do this time and again in their poems. Like the geese in Raymond Carver’s ‘Prosser’, I have the feeling they will die for it, to get to the place where they do not wholly know what they are doing.

In simple terms ‘8.06 p.m. June 10th 1970’ saved my life one spring afternoon in a classroom in Exeter because it gave to me much more than I had dared hope possible. But it was more than that of course. Everything was suddenly on the line. I had nothing left to lose.


1 Comment

  1. Thanks Anthony, for reminding us that a poem can be fun, just like a nine- or ten-year old!

    A Poem is Words, Right?

    So you send
    Me a photograph
    And insist it is a poem,
    But you can’t fool me…

    Or, is that a rhododendron
    Barking, running down our street,
    Tugging on a daffodil tethered
    To its leash? Is that a cloud I see,
    Honking on a frozen pond, while
    Speckled trout do somersaults
    Across the starry sky?

    If a poem is a photograph,
    Then maybe so are we,
    Maybe you’re a penguin
    And I’m a ginkgo tree.


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