Late evening poetry reading – seven selected pieces
Let’s begin this evening’s readings in outer space:
Jams O’Donnell presents Marzials [1874]:
And scudding by
The boatmen call out hoy! and hey!
All is running water and sky,
And my head shrieks – “Stop,”
And my heart shrieks – “Die.”
My thought is running out of my head;
My love is running out of my heart,
My soul runs after, and leaves me as dead,
For my life runs after to catch them — and fled
They all are every one! – and I stand, and start,
At the water that oozes up, plop and plop,
On the barges that flop
And dizzy me dead.I might reel and drop.
Plop.
Dead.
Super. Keeping it Celtic for the moment:
Brummie based Scots expat teen Maureen McGlashan’s Stupid Cupid:
You know you’re such a cupid
You’re so cute you know
Your enemies are f—ed
When you happy slap them.
To me you’re not stupid
Well not much anyway
And I love you, you know, Troy
We’re so well suited.
My blues they’ve been booted
Well over the line
And we’re all alone
And it’s our own time.
Poignant. Chav life must be bliss.
Unable to escape that Celtic themes, McGonagall’s Tay Bridge Disaster:
Sheer magic. Now, to the other side of the pond - Sam Jones’ Love Guppy:
You have the finest rosebud’s taste.
Without you my life is waste,
I’ll stick to you like Elmer’s paste.
You’re my love guppy.
I’d break through a citadel.
I’d fight with a raging bull,
Though winning would seem improbable.
You’re my love guppy.
My love’s as strong as the mid-ocean ridge.
You shine like the rainbow bridge
or like that light inside my fridge.
You’re my love guppy.
For you I’d consume haggis,
or lose the joys of Bacchus,
or live in sin with Mike Dukakis.
You’re my love guppy.
What woman could resist that?
And finally, Rumsfeld’s classic Known Knowns:
This post is dedicated to real poet Dearieme’s latest: Cool on Mushrooms.
Filed under: Arts & culture
Or maybe…
Jabberwocky
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Mention McTeagle and you immediately think of Hemingway. Unlike Ernest, Ewan reached his zenith during the shed period. Ewan had all of Ernest’s simplicity with none of his greatness and Ernest had all of Ewan’s vulgarity with none of his brevity.
Cherie – yes, the classic of all time.
MTG –
Indeed.