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Random Poetry XXVIII.
Commuter—one who spends his life
In riding to and from his wife;
A man who shaves and takes a train,
And then rides back to shave again.
(Commuter, in: The Lady is Cold, 1929)
Random Poetry XXVII.
Phone for the fish knives, Norman
As cook is a little unnerved;
You kiddies have crumpled the serviettes
And I must have things daintily served.
Are the requisites all in the toilet?
The frills round the cutlets can wait
Till the girl has replenished the cruets
And switched on the logs in the…
Random Poetry XXVI.
The world has held great heroes,
As history books have showed;
But never a name went down to fame
Compared with that of Toad!
The clever men at Oxford
Know all there is to be knowed.
But none of them know half as much
As intelligent Mr. Toad!
The animals sat in the Ark and cried,
Their tears in…
Random Poetry XXV.
Alone we are born
And die alone
Yet see the red-gold cirrus
over snow-mountain shine.
Upon the upland road
Ride easy, stranger
Surrender to the sky
Your heart of anger.
(James K. Baxter: High Country Weather)
Random Poetry XXIV.
Quarterly, is it, money reproaches me:
‘Why do you let me lie here wastefully?
I am all you never had of goods and sex.
You could get them still by writing a few cheques.’
So I look at others, what they do with theirs:
They certainly don’t keep it upstairs.
By now they’ve a second house and…
Random Poetry XXIII.
***
There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare…
Random Poetry XXII.
***
Child, have you never heard it said
That you are heir to all the ages?
Why, then, your hands were never made
To tear these beautiful thick pages!
Your little hands were made to take
The better things and leave the worse ones.
They also may be used to shake
The Massive Paws of Elder…
Random Poetry XXI.
Don't read much now: the dude
Who lets the girl down before
The hero arrives, the chap
Who's yellow and keeps the store
Seem far too familiar. Get stewed:
Books are a load of crap.
(Philip Larkin, A Study of Reading Habits; from the Whitsun Weddings, 1963)
Random Poetry XX.
I have no store
Of Gryphon-guarded gold;
Now, as before,
Bare is the shepherd's fold.
Rubies, nor pearls,
Have I to gem thy throat;
Yet woodland girls
Have loved the shepherd's note.
Canzonet