Valerie Jack

Poet and Playwright



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submarine poem: 'Familygrams'

Posted by Valerie Jack on February 1, 2010 at 12:00 AM Comments comments (15)



1: Sally


Five boxes wide by eight,

two your rank and name,

two messages a week - one

mine, one for your Mum,

tucked brown in your locker

no grammar no commas no

complex feelings: dyed my hair

red got the job yay.


2: Carla


Great cracks, rats, these things

happen when you're at sea -

it's me who handles it.

Takes two weeks to knit

our lives together, third week's

lovely, by the fourth you're

out there in your mind,

I think just go then.


3: Shelly


My mother tried to make

me understand, but being lonely

wasn't in my world – I

grew up in a pub,

not this big north-facing house.

Let's next time say bye

at the door. I can't

wave off the boat again.


4: Viv


In a cold bucket of

water vibrating on torpedo tubes,

you wash your pants, try

to find an empty bed

still warm from the one

before you, you read this...

I try to see you -

are you still the same?


5: Anne


It gets tedious boxing up

my week, into the void.

But you ticked the box

saying no bad news thanks -

why would you want it,

down there? So silence would

mean bad news, but here's

my good news: no news.


6: Alice


You left a baby who

had trouble rolling over. You'll

find him on a chair,

standing, apron round his middle,

sleeves at elbows, washing dishes,

and won't believe your eyes -

not your son, standing, washing,

not our own magic trick!


7: Margaret


You'd be in a mess

of guys, the loneliest person

in the world - have to

break out the ballast brick

fruit cake I made to

stop the aching. That's how

I'm thinking of it now:

a long deployment, not dead.


Nuclear powered submarine operating under frozen water surface


Life aboard is often a life of prolonged separation from loved ones. This experience is lived at its extreme by Royal Navy submariners, who maintain the nuclear deterrent and submerge for three months at a time. The only communication these men receive is in the form of 40 word messages, known as familygrams. Because of the need to keep the sub’s position secret, the men cannot respond.


I wrote this sequence after discovering the interesting site, on which I listened to women’s accounts of what it is like to love a submariner. I may also extend this series to include familygrams from fathers/brothers/sons/boyfriends of submariners, and it would be interesting to imagine what the submariners themselves may be thinking and feeling but unable to communicate.


I have used an experimental form in this sequence, the reasons for which I hope are made clear by the first poem. If any one has any comments on this, anything else about the sequence, or any suggestions for future poems please write something here. Thanks!



A few poems from Educational

Posted by Valerie Jack on December 27, 2009 at 1:08 PM Comments comments (0)

Turning Up


The department wasn't where it used to be.

Break times had changed, but I got a third former

to show me where he'd be

and waited at the top of a fire escape

till he came up under an umbrella,

replied to my hello then looked up with good God.


He swapped classes with another teacher

to talk to me for half an hour.

He sat behind his desk asking

what had happened to various members of my year.

He caught me up with his life:

her father had died, which had been hard.


I sat on a table swinging my legs

and when the students started to arrive,

he walked across and mouthed piss off.

On the bus down to Temple Meads

I text a couple of friends to say

I'm still in love with him.





Substitute Mother Experiment


One of the monkeys gave off heat

and gave out milk, but was made of wire.


The other was covered in a soft cloth

and that was the one they clung to.






Talking to a Boy


I ask him how the ink tastes

he licks from his fingers, carefully.

You get used to it, he says,

when you have it every meal.


Then I wonder does it hurt

to break up driftwood with his hands?

Splinters?  Under the nails?

That's nothing, he says.  I used to bend

my nails all the way back here.


I don't think you should do that

I say, and he doesn't say anything.


So later I say I love that kid

and the teacher says

I used to love him too.

When he first came he tried

to rein the evil in

but it didn't last.

He started crouching

behind the cupboard -

that kind of thing.