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AIBU?

Share your dilemmas and get honest opinions from other Mumsnetters.

To ask for your favourite poem

285 replies

Rebeccaslicker · 22/12/2017 12:57

I was just going to post this on the "middle aged woman is too old for fairy lights" thread - but it's being zapped for GF-ery!

So here is one of my favourite poems:

www.barbados.org/poetry/wheniam.htm

I like it because I think the imagery and the humour are fantastic. Anyone else like poetry? What do you like - I love reading poetry so would be great to find some new stuff :)

OP posts:
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playitnow · 22/12/2017 18:51

Also this antidote to Philip Larkin's poem ( which I see is upthread too).

They tuck you up, your mum and dad,

They read you Peter Rabbit, too.

They give you all the treats they had

And add some extra, just for you.

They were tucked up when they were small,

(Pink perfume, blue tobacco-smoke),

By those whose kiss healed any fall,

Whose laughter doubled any joke.

Man hands on happiness to man,

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

So love your parents all you can

And have some cheerful kids yourself.
(Adrian Mitchell)

Rebeccaslicker · 22/12/2017 18:52

www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45000/remember-56d224509b7ae

OP posts:
Sammysquiz · 22/12/2017 18:53

I love this by Adrian Mitchell...

BEATTIE IS THREE

At the top of the stairs
I ask for her hand. O.K.
She gives it to me.
How her fist fits my palm,
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless.

Shakey15000 · 22/12/2017 18:53

Mine's a short two liner-

How is it one can recognise
Another, in another's eyes

BishopstonFaffing · 22/12/2017 18:54

My current favourite is one written by DD who is 13. I'm not quite brave enough to put it on here in case everyone hates it though!

I love this one too though. I think of it every September as children go to school for the first time. The last two lines are particularly lovely and very good advice!

WALKING AWAY - Cecil Day Lewis

It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day –
A sunny day with leaves just turning,
The touch-lines new-ruled – since I watched you play
Your first game of football, then, like a satellite
Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away

Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
With the pathos of a half-fledged thing set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be.

That hesitant figure, eddying away
Like a winged seed loosened from its parent stem,
Has something I never quite grasp to convey
About nature’s give-and-take – the small, the scorching
Ordeals which fire one’s irresolute clay.

I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly show –
How selfhood begins with a walking away,
And love is proved in the letting go.

Rebeccaslicker · 22/12/2017 18:54

That Beattie one could make me cry too as my DD gets bigger!

This really spoke to me when DM died; I wouldn't have read it at the funeral, but it nails precisely how i felt (and still feel):

www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52773/dirge-without-music

OP posts:
Sammysquiz · 22/12/2017 18:55

And this by Nicholas Evans....

If I be the first of us to die,
Let grief not blacken long your sky.
Be bold yet modest in your grieving.
There is a change but not a leaving.
For just as death is part of life,
The dead live on forever in the living.
And all the gathered riches of our journey,
The moments shared, the mysteries explored,
The steady layering of intimacy stored,
The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,
The wordless language of look and touch,
The knowing,

Each giving and each taking,
These are not flowers that fade,
Nor trees that fall and crumble,
Nor are they stone,
For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand
And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.
What we were, we are.
What we had, we have.

A conjoined past imperishably present.
So when you walk the wood where once we walked together
And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,
Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,
And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,
And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,

Be still.
Close your eyes.
Breathe.

dun1urkin · 22/12/2017 18:55

A sigh is but a breath of wind, coming from the heart
But if it takes a downwards course, it’s often called a fart
To fart is a pleasure
It gives the bowels ease,
It scents and warms the bedclothes
And suffocates the fleas

You’re welcome

Agerbilatemycardigan · 22/12/2017 18:56

My daughter has this poem tattooed on her back. Not sure how she manages to read it.....

Nothing Gold Can Stay
Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

BishopstonFaffing · 22/12/2017 18:58

I love that, Gerbil. Makes me cry I The Outsiders when he reads it.

IndianaMoleWoman · 22/12/2017 18:58

Mother Any Distance by Simon Armitage

To ask for your favourite poem
DoctorTwo · 22/12/2017 18:58

Not as deep as you lot but by Dr John Cooper Clarke. Or Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow by Jamesie Dodd.

Midge1978 · 22/12/2017 19:00

As I Walked Out One Evening
W. H. Auden, 1907 - 1973

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
'Love has no ending.

'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,

'I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

'The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.'

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.

'In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

'Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.

'O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.

'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.'

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.

Agerbilatemycardigan · 22/12/2017 19:01

Me too Bishopston Behind my often brusque exterior I'm a bit of a softy really.

Glitterspy · 22/12/2017 19:02

Adelstrop

Midge1978 · 22/12/2017 19:02

The dash poem - Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of birth and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time that they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own, the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read, with your life’s actions to rehash…
would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash?

hackmum · 22/12/2017 19:03

RebeccaSlicker: "I blame Anne Shirley for the latter one - "captain Jim has crossed the bar".

You are a woman after my own heart! As soon as I saw the Tennyson poem my heart did a little leap and I thought of Anne Shirley. It's not even that I like Tennyson particularly, it's just that I made the exact same association and my mind went right back to childhood and how much I loved those books.

BishopstonFaffing · 22/12/2017 19:05

Midge - I read the first half of that at my uncle's funeral. He spent his dash magnificently.

Midge1978 · 22/12/2017 19:05

No-one makes me cry like Wilfred.

Anthem for doomed youth - Wilfred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds.

BishopstonFaffing · 22/12/2017 19:06

I love the variety on this thread. Although I am having a little cry now.

Midge1978 · 22/12/2017 19:08

They should have asked my husband - Pam Ayres

You know this world is complicated, imperfect and oppressed
And it’s not hard to feel timid, apprehensive and depressed.
It seems that all around us tides of questions ebb and flow
And people want solutions but they don’t know where to go.

Opinions abound but who is wrong and who is right.
People need a prophet, a diffuser of the light.
Someone they can turn to as the crises rage and swirl.
Someone with the remedy, the wisdom, and the pearl.

Well . . . they should have asked my ‘usband, he’d have told’em then and there.
His thoughts on immigration, teenage mothers, Tony Blair,
The future of the monarchy, house prices in the south
The wait for hip replacements, BSE and foot and mouth.

Yes . . . they should have asked my husband he can sort out any mess
He can rejuvenate the railways he can cure the NHS
So any little niggle, anything you want to know
Just run it past my husband, wind him up and let him go.

Congestion on the motorways, free holidays for thugs
The damage to the ozone layer, refugees and drugs.
These may defeat the brain of any politician bloke
But present it to my husband and he’ll solve it at a stroke.

He’ll clarify the situation; he will make it crystal clear
You’ll feel the glazing of your eyeballs, and the bending of your ear.
Corruption at the top, he’s an authority on that
And the Mafia, Gadafia and Yasser Arafat.

Upon these areas he brings his intellect to shine
In a great compelling voice that’s twice as loud as yours or mine.
I often wonder what it must be like to be so strong,
Infallible, articulate, self-confident …… and wrong.

When it comes to tolerance – he hasn’t got a lot
Joyriders should be guillotined and muggers should be shot.
The sound of his own voice becomes like music to his ears
And he hasn’t got an inkling that he’s boring us to tears.

My friends don’t call so often, they have busy lives I know
But its not everyday you want to hear a windbag suck and blow.
Encyclopaedias, on them we never have to call
Why clutter up the bookshelf when my husband knows it all!

Agerbilatemycardigan · 22/12/2017 19:10

War poetry is definitely some of the most poignant that I've ever read. Especially Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon. Heartbreaking stuff.

Absolution
BY SIEGFRIED SASSOON

The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes
Till beauty shines in all that we can see.
War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,
And, fighting for our freedom, we are free.

Horror of wounds and anger at the foe,
And loss of things desired; all these must pass.
We are the happy legion, for we know
Time's but a golden wind that shakes the grass.

There was an hour when we were loth to part
From life we longed to share no less than others.
Now, having claimed this heritage of heart,
What need we more, my comrades and my brothers?

LaurieMarlow · 22/12/2017 19:11

Aw, Anne was such a Tennyson fan girl. She introduced me to The Lady of Shalot as well. The last stanza is so magical.

Also The Highwayman.

Midge1978 · 22/12/2017 19:12

After the lunch - Wendy Cope

After the Lunch
On Waterloo Bridge, where we said our goodbyes,
the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove
And try not to notice I’ve fallen in love.

On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:
This is nothing. you’re high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?

On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I am tempted to skip. You’re a fool. I don’t care.
the head does its best but the heart is the boss-
I admit it before I am halfway across.

TheFaerieQueene · 22/12/2017 19:13

Twat By Dr John Cooper Clarke

  • because we all know one -

TWAT
Like a Night Club in the morning, you’re the bitter end
Like a recently disinfected shit-house, you’re clean round the bend
You give me the horrors
Too bad to be true
All of my tomorrow’s
Are lousy coz of you
You put the Shat in Shatter
Put the Pain in Spain
Your germs are splattered about
Your face is just a stain

You’re certainly no raver, commonly known as a drag
Do us all a favour, here… wear this polythene bag

You’re like a dose of scabies
I’ve got you under my skin
You make life a fairy tale… Grimm!

People mention murder, the moment you arrive
I’d consider killing you if I thought you were alive
You’ve got this slippery quality
It makes me think of phlegm
And a dual personality
I hate both of them

Your bad breath, vamps disease, destruction, and decay
Please, please, please, please, take yourself away
Like a death a birthday party
You ruin all the fun
Like a sucked and spat our smartie
you’re no use to anyone
Like the shadow of the guillotine
On a dead consumptive’s face
Speaking as an outsider
What do you think of the human race

You went to a progressive psychiatrist
He recommended suicide…
Before scratching your bad name off his list
And pointing the way outside

You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart
You’re heading for a breakdown
Better pull yourself apart

Your dirty name gets passed about when something goes amiss
Your attitudes are platitudes
Just make me wanna piss

What kind of creature bore you
Was is some kind of bat
They can’t find a good word for you
But I can…

TWAT

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