Share a poem

[Celesta]

Hi Celesta

Yes - I do have other poems and could PM you a few examples if you like them. I started writing when I was very young - fiction and non-fiction - and always wanted to be a writer but never had the time to spend on it properly. I do write some satire - mostly for friends at work for our end-of-year Christmas dinners or for retirements. The serious stuff like the example above only seems to flow when I am very stressed so I suppose it is a good thing I only write a few each year!


Thanks for your kind comments.

Julie

Thank you! I just read them, and I'm really impressed. Please do try to get them published. I'm no poetry expert, but I do believe you have a gift for this, Julie.

[Limehouse]

Balloons
Since Christmas they have lived with us,
Guileless and clear,
Oval soul-animals,
Taking up half the space,
Moving and rubbing on the silk

Invisible air drifts,
Giving a shriek and pop
When attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling.
Yellow cathead, blue fish---
Such queer moons we live with

Instead of dead furniture!
Straw mats, white walls
And these traveling
Globes of thin air, red, green,
Delighting

The heart like wishes or free
Peacocks blessing
Old ground with a feather
Beaten in starry metals.
Your small

Brother is making
His balloon squeak like a cat.
Seeming to see
A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it,
He bites,

Then sits
Back, fat jug
Contemplating a world clear as water.
A red
Shred in his little fist.


Sylvia Plath

[Autolycus]

Something Seasonal and LVP!

It was Christmas Day in the workhouse
The merriest day of the year
The paupers and the prisoners
Were all assembled there

In came the Christmas pudding
When a voice that shattered glass
Said, "We don't want your Christmas pudding
So stick it
there with the rest of the unwanted presents"

The workhouse master then arose
And prepared to carve the duck
He said "Who wants the parson's nose
And the prisoners shouted
"you have it yourself sir"

The vicar brought his bible
And read out little bits
Said one old crone at the back of the hall
"This man gets on
very well with everybody"

The workhouse mistress then began
To hand out Christmas parcels
The paupers tore the wrappers off
And began to wipe their
eyes, which were full of tears

The master rose to make a speech
But just before he started
The mistress, who was fifteen stone
Gave three loud cheers and
nearly choked herself

And all the paupers then began
To pull their Christmas crackers
One pauper held his too low down
And blew off both his
paper hat and the man's next to him

A steaming bowl of white bread sauce
Was handed round to some
An aged gourmet called aloud
"This bread sauce tastes like
it was made by a continental chef"

Mince pie with custard sauce was next
And each received a bit
One pauper said "The mince pie's nice
But the custard tastes like
the bread sauce we had in the last verse !"

The mistress dishing out the food
Dropped custard down her front
She cried "Aren't I a silly girl"
And they answered "You're a
perfect picture as always ma'am !"

"This pudding ", said the master
"It's solid, hard and thick
how am I going to cut it ?"
And a man cried "Use your
penknife sir, the one with the pearl handle"

The mistress asked the vicar
To entertain his flock
He said "What would you like to see ?"
And they cried "Let's see your
conjuring tricks, they're always worth watching"

"Your reverence may I be excused ?"
Said one benign old chap
"I don't like conjuring tricks
I'd sooner have a
carol or two around the fire"

So then they all began to sing
Which shook the workhouse walls
"Merry Christmas!" cried the master
And the inmates shouted
"Best of luck to you as well sir !"

Anonymous (I think.)

Regards,
Autolycus.

[Natalie Severn]

Thanks Autolycus---my dear father used to love to recite this at Christmas---he knew every word by heart.No,it is"nt anonymous and what is so fascinating here is that it was written by Sir Melville Macnaghten"s journalist friend George Sims,who enjoyed the East End,particularly Whitechapel High Street which even in 1888 was a wide thoroughfare with market stalls all along it.Sims loved its colourful atmosphere especially at the weekend when,according to articles he wrote, lovely young Jewesses would parade in their best outfits!
Regards,
Norma

[Autolycus]

Thanks for the information, Limehouse.

It sounds as if your Dad and my Grandad might have had the same sense of humour. Did he do "There's a Little Yellow Idol..." too?

Regards,
Autolycus.

[Magpie]

Did you know that there is an entire society in the States that has built up around that poem? Older ladies get together wear red hats and purple and hang out. It's called the Red Hat Society. I've always thought that was amusing. Younger members are allowed to join but they can' t wear red hats, they have to wear pink.

I got cornered in a sushi bar by a gang of Red Hats one time--a terrifying yet invigorating experience

Oy Vey, but they were raucous!

[Magpie]

Something appropriate for both post-Thanksgiving and pre-Xmas:

Wishbone

“Come pull the wishbone dear,” she said,
While wishing that her spouse were dead
Her hubby smiled and said, “I’m game”
While wishing pretty much the same

The pair could not believe their eyes
Each wishbone piece was equal size
They went to bed without a peep
And both died quietly in their sleep

[Limehouse]

Not Waving But Drowning


Not Waving But Drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.


Stevie Smith

[The Good Michael]

A song, really, but a poem as well. For what it is, it's absolutely genius.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHnt8kWLwxU

Mike