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Under Shelley’s hat

 

Shelley wrote his famous sonnet*

In just twenty minutes flat

That’s some going, it’s impressive.

Wish I wore the Shelley hat.

I’d knock sonnets out in dozens

They’d come pouring from my pen.

Poetic industry would flourish:

Wonders, time and time again.

Ballads, odes and the odd haiku,

Watch them dancing on the page.

All my own and all the rage.

But this, alas, is a mere day dream

Imagination all askew.

Random rhyme, no similes,

No metaphors, I ask you!

Poet manqué, you’re a has-been.

Go find something else to do.* Ozymandias.

By Ron Gardner

teehee – Promote Yourself

astroxxxxxxxxx

It’s lights out in 30 minutes
Living every tick somewhere
In your face and nowhere
In the pages
Of the play That Someone wrote
“for Joan” “for Guy”
And that is beautiful to me.
The string slipping perfectly
Through the blue eye.
I don’t care
For anyone else because
It’s lights out in 20 minutes
So this is my time
And I’ll be not in those tocks
But around your body –
A famous astronaut
(just a thought)
And I’ve drawn the curtain
And looking at the clock
It’s lights out in 15 minutes.
It’s cold here but I don’t mind
It’s warm there, so
I’ll get to the house
In the northern moor
Because through that door
Leaps heat.
And it’s lights out in 5 minutes
I’ve been living in a different clock
My brain’s in the wrong box.
I just had a thought –
I don’t need to write it down,
No,
I am an astronaut.

John W Bradfield

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night- Famous Poets – What’s your favourite poem?

 

Image depicting Dylan Thomas smoking a cigar

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

SENT IN BY ninjacaity

Dylan Thomas poet
Dylan Marlais Thomas was a Welsh poet and writer who wrote exclusively in English. In addition to poetry, he wrote short stories and scripts for film and radio, which he often performed himself. His public readings, particularly in America, won him great acclaim; his sonorous voice with a subtle Welsh lilt became almost as famous as his works. His best-known works include the “play for voices” Under Milk Wood and the celebrated villanelle for his dying father, “Do not go gentle into that good night”. Appreciative critics have also noted the craftsmanship and compression of poems such as “In my Craft or Sullen Art”, and the rhapsodic lyricism in “And death shall have no dominion” and “Fern Hill”.

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