After Chores
I spent the day doing chores rather than writing. That felt good; almost too good. Now, I have taken up The Poetry Anthology, a collection from the first ninety years of Poetry magazine. I have been idly flipping through it reading poems at random. The shock and jolt of each new poem is one of the delights of a good poetry anthology. You never quite know where you are going or what you are doing. A definite route and plan is not always the most important thing anyway on bright crisp autumn days.
I think I will read for a little longer, jot odd thoughts on the back of postcards, and dream of being in love.
It is Halloween. I will dress myself as a geezer who reads poetry.
posted by Lynn @ 2:49 PM
2 comments
2 Comments:
A geezer who reads poetry? What does he wear then?
Poetry is a great thing that few people read. I don't read poetry and it's a big hole in appreciation of art. I wish I liked the stuff. Just can;t get into much of it. It's a bit like a lot of paintings - don;t know what I am supposed to feel.
I do have my favourite poets though. One is Roger McGough.
A fascist
Who thinks he is a humanitarian,
Is like a cannibal,
On a health kick,
Who only eats
Vegetarians.
He wears faded and frayed blue jeans, a worn gray sweatshirt, and a plain baseball cap without logo to keep his long hair in place.
Nice poem. I always liked these lines by Alexander Pope:
Inscribed on the collar of His Highness dog at the Palace of Kew (?!
I am his Highness Dog at Kew.
Pray tell me, Sir, whose dog are you?
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