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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

A Dorset lad’s pome

November 18, 2017 5 comments

Thomas Hardy dun gud, lik wiv pomes. So eres won wot I lik. ‘The Darkling Thrush’, 1900

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

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Sam’s the man!

September 19, 2017 8 comments

My reader may have noticed on his/her cyber-trek that Google has just celebrated the anniversary of Samuel Johnson’s 308th birthday. He was undoubtedly its predecessor – lexicographically speaking – before the more modern encyclopedias appeared. And his dictionary reflected his character as a poet, wit and literary compiler. Read more…

Is it really WS?

September 1, 2017 6 comments

Dirty days hath September
April June and November
From January up to May
The rain it raineth every day
All the rest have thirty-one
Without a blessed gleam of sun
And if any of them had two-and-thirty
They’d be just as wet and twice as dirty.”

Categories: Poetry

Nobel prize for nostalgia

April 2, 2017 3 comments

 

Back in the mists of student days and nights, Bob Dylan used to sing:

”…..Take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy bench
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory of fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there ain’t no place I’m going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come following you……..”

Categories: History, Poetry

Donald, where’s your troosers?

March 2, 2017 6 comments

http://www.scotsman.com/news/world/donald-trump-visit-will-shift-to-scotland-to-deter-protests-1-4380716

trump-kilt

Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets
In my kilt, I’ll go
All the lassies say hello
Donald, where’s your troosers

Shrovetide

March 1, 2017 8 comments

ashbourne

Celebrated far and wide in Olde Englande, the annual festival still thrives. Can you guess the origin of this song composed in 1891 in a town I know well?

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Categories: Competition, History, Poetry, Sport

Thanks for the memory

February 21, 2017 1 comment

Did that get the heart beating? No? Never mind, she’s retiring now.

‘Ow you say…on Valentine’s Day

February 12, 2017 4 comments

jane-birkin-etc

Je t’aime je t’aime, oui je t’aime
Moi non plus
Oh mon amour
Comme la vague irrésolue
Je vais, je vais et je viens
Entre tes reins
Je vais et je viens entre tes reins
Et je me retiens

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Categories: Poetry

Seemed like a nice boy

January 12, 2016 20 comments

David_Bowie_s_firs_2636618n

1964. Interviewed about long hair…….

R.I.P.

Categories: Creativity, History, Poetry

Are you an unsung poet?

November 21, 2015 6 comments

Clive James is a wordsmith of the first order. For example:

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2015/nov/21/clive-james-poets-sitwell-auden-gerbils

And he strikes a familiar chord for me, fascinated as I am by the spoken and written word, its etymology, philology and sheer existence in this otherwise technological world.

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