Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

David Lehman’s "Like a Party" is a sharp and ironic meditation on war, its cyclical nature, and the myths that surround it. The poem, written in free verse, moves with a conversational ease, blending contemporary imagery with classical allusions to expose the absurdity and inevitability of conflict.

The opening lines immediately set the tone: "You throw a war and hope people will come. / They do, and they bring signs, they bring rifles." This phrasing presents war as a social event, akin to a gathering where participants arrive with their own contributions—some with weapons, others with protest signs. The juxtaposition of "rifles" and "signs" suggests that war is always accompanied by its counterpart: resistance. The phrase "throw a war" is a play on "throw a party," making war seem both casual and inevitable, as if nations enter into it with the expectation that people will simply show up and participate.

Lehman continues his critique with: "They make speeches, they build bombs, / And they fight the last war, or protest its arrival." This highlights how wars often repeat historical patterns, with people either reenacting old battles or trying in vain to prevent new ones. The phrase "fight the last war" alludes to the tendency of military strategists to prepare for conflicts based on outdated models, rather than adapting to the present.

The next stanza takes aim at the myth of war requiring meticulous preparation: "One myth of war is that it takes / A lot of careful planning. Bunk. All you need is a cake / With a roll of film inside, or a briefcase full of germs." The word "bunk" dismisses the notion that wars are grand strategic undertakings, implying instead that they can be sparked by something as seemingly trivial as espionage or biological warfare. The "cake with a roll of film inside" might evoke the clandestine methods of intelligence operations, while the "briefcase full of germs" suggests the terrifying ease of biological warfare. Lehman reduces war to a matter of convenience, as if destruction is always within reach.

The poem then transitions into classical mythology: "Another myth stars Vulcan the smith, / Limping husband of Venus, mistress of Mars." Vulcan, the Roman god of fire and craftsmanship, is linked to war through his wife, Venus, the goddess of love, and her lover, Mars, the god of war. The reference to Vulcan?s "limping" reinforces his role as the wounded, secondary figure, paralleling the way industry and labor serve war without directly participating in it.

The following lines adopt a more personal, almost schoolyard logic: "The bully broke my nose and what was I / To do, cry in the corner and ask him why / He didn’t like me, or punch him back harder than he / Hit me?" Here, war is reduced to a child?s response to aggression—escalation as the only logical reaction. The simplicity of this justification mirrors how nations rationalize warfare: retaliation is framed as a necessity rather than a choice.

The poem closes with: "The war was not a play, not a movie but a mess; / Not a work of art; and if a game of chess, blind chess." Lehman rejects the notion that war can be romanticized as a spectacle ("a play" or "a movie") or rationalized as a strategic masterpiece ("a work of art" or "a game of chess"). Instead, he calls it a "mess," reinforcing its chaotic and brutal reality. The final phrase, "blind chess," suggests that war is not even a game of skill, but one of uncertainty, where moves are made without foresight, and both sides stumble toward destruction.

Overall, "Like a Party" exposes the senselessness and inevitability of war. Lehman’s use of irony, everyday imagery, and mythological references underscores how war is simultaneously absurd, destructive, and depressingly familiar. His conversational tone makes the poem accessible, while the deeper implications reveal a sophisticated critique of humanity’s tendency to repeat violent mistakes.

Copyright (c) 2025 PoetryExplorer

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...