POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Keith, I've never heard of Philip Larkin before but I do love his imagery which just sets you in the middle of his prose that you can actually be there without really thinking about it because it is so vivid! I do love reading John Clare also. Thanks for sharing. Now how bout a Keith Good original poem about summer!
- keithgood838
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Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Hi Eman
A journalist once asked Philip Larkin why he had stopped
writing poetry; Larkin replied that he didn't give up poetry,
it gave him up, by which he meant that he was dependant
on his muse for inspiration. She had deserted him. At least
I have that in common with Larkin, in that I cannot write
verse to order - ideas pop into my head spontaneously.
Carol Ann Duffy is a rarity among poets laureate; she is able
to write memorable stuff on all topical events, not just royal ones.
Here's another calendar taste of Longfellow:
JUNE
Mine is the month of roses; yes, and mine
The month of marriages! All pleasant sights
And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine,
The foliage of the valleys and the heights.
Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights;
The mower's scythe makes music to my ear;
I am the mother of all dear delights;
I am the fairest daughter of the year.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Journo Juno is the playful one
to whom it falls to post the sporting story,
Test cricket, Open golf and Wimbledon;
girls unaware of their under-dressed glory.
From Calendar Characters
A journalist once asked Philip Larkin why he had stopped
writing poetry; Larkin replied that he didn't give up poetry,
it gave him up, by which he meant that he was dependant
on his muse for inspiration. She had deserted him. At least
I have that in common with Larkin, in that I cannot write
verse to order - ideas pop into my head spontaneously.
Carol Ann Duffy is a rarity among poets laureate; she is able
to write memorable stuff on all topical events, not just royal ones.
Here's another calendar taste of Longfellow:
JUNE
Mine is the month of roses; yes, and mine
The month of marriages! All pleasant sights
And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine,
The foliage of the valleys and the heights.
Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights;
The mower's scythe makes music to my ear;
I am the mother of all dear delights;
I am the fairest daughter of the year.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Journo Juno is the playful one
to whom it falls to post the sporting story,
Test cricket, Open golf and Wimbledon;
girls unaware of their under-dressed glory.
From Calendar Characters
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Oh I hear you loud and clear Keith about losing the muse inspiration. Love the Longfellow!
- keithgood838
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Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
REMINISCENCE THERAPY
The Cinderella of the arts
has found her niche at last,
as go-between for the forgetful
with pictures from their past;
readings that bring joy to
institutionalised oldtimers,
while holding at bay the evil
of mind-stealing Altzeimer's.
Keith Good
The Cinderella of the arts
has found her niche at last,
as go-between for the forgetful
with pictures from their past;
readings that bring joy to
institutionalised oldtimers,
while holding at bay the evil
of mind-stealing Altzeimer's.
Keith Good
Last edited by keithgood838 on Mon Jun 10, 2013 1:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Wow Keith light hearted but with a deep retrospective! I love it
- keithgood838
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Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Thanks Eman, I was moved to write the few lines
after seeing a heartwarming t.v. news report about
volunteers, across the age spectrum, visiting care homes
to do one-to-one, stimulating poetry readings for elderly
unfortunate residents suffering memory maladies of various kinds.
THE MAJORCAN MASTER
Like his illustrious namesake,
and using the court as his canvas,
a ball as his palette,
and his racket as his brush,
the Raphael of sport
produces strokes of genius
to create masterpieces
that will be regarded with awe
in the art galleries of film
in perpetuity ...
Keith Good
after seeing a heartwarming t.v. news report about
volunteers, across the age spectrum, visiting care homes
to do one-to-one, stimulating poetry readings for elderly
unfortunate residents suffering memory maladies of various kinds.
THE MAJORCAN MASTER
Like his illustrious namesake,
and using the court as his canvas,
a ball as his palette,
and his racket as his brush,
the Raphael of sport
produces strokes of genius
to create masterpieces
that will be regarded with awe
in the art galleries of film
in perpetuity ...
Keith Good
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Nice one Keith



"My Tears Will Fall Now That You're Gone,
I Can't Help But Cry, But I Must Go On"
I Can't Help But Cry, But I Must Go On"

- keithgood838
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- Joined: Sun Feb 10, 2008 6:30 pm
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Thanks Robert. It is wet and miserable here in the London area;
I guess you are experiencing the same dreary outlook in Hull.
Let us take refuge in the words of our friend, Longfellow, who
reminds us of the virtues that can be found in the wet stuff:
RAIN IN SUMMER
How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street
In the narrow lane
How beautiful is the rain ...
Near at hand,
From under the sheltering trees,
The farmer sees
His pastures, and fields of grain,
as they bend their tops
To the numberless beating drops
Of the incessant rain.
He counts it as no sin
That he sees therein
Only his own thrift and gain ...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
WEST CORK
The good Lord thought:
'I'll make West Cork a paradise,'
and then He paused.
'Suppose the deadly sin of envy
will be caused?
I know, I'll sprinkle some soft rain
on the occasional scene,
whose presence will inspire a landscape
blessed with heavenly green.'
Keith Good
I guess you are experiencing the same dreary outlook in Hull.
Let us take refuge in the words of our friend, Longfellow, who
reminds us of the virtues that can be found in the wet stuff:
RAIN IN SUMMER
How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street
In the narrow lane
How beautiful is the rain ...
Near at hand,
From under the sheltering trees,
The farmer sees
His pastures, and fields of grain,
as they bend their tops
To the numberless beating drops
Of the incessant rain.
He counts it as no sin
That he sees therein
Only his own thrift and gain ...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
WEST CORK
The good Lord thought:
'I'll make West Cork a paradise,'
and then He paused.
'Suppose the deadly sin of envy
will be caused?
I know, I'll sprinkle some soft rain
on the occasional scene,
whose presence will inspire a landscape
blessed with heavenly green.'
Keith Good
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Keith, it has been cloudy here for the past five days (just for a change)!! ......................but at least the wind has changed direction, to a very blustery W/SWkeithgood838 wrote:Thanks Robert. It is wet and miserable here in the London area;
I guess you are experiencing the same dreary outlook in Hull.


"My Tears Will Fall Now That You're Gone,
I Can't Help But Cry, But I Must Go On"
I Can't Help But Cry, But I Must Go On"

Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Keith - Love the Longfellow one of my faves. Love your original scribe also. It's describing how itis here in San Diego. Overcast, cold and has morning drizzle or mist. I still have to wear lightweight jumpers.
Robert, windy? I bet our Santa Ana winds doesn't compare to yours.
Robert, windy? I bet our Santa Ana winds doesn't compare to yours.

- keithgood838
- Posts: 2478
- Joined: Sun Feb 10, 2008 6:30 pm
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Hi Robert and Eman. For many celebrities fame is actually
the heavy price they pay for success. It is my guess that
our Matt bore the loss of of privacy with cheerful equanimity:
IDLE FAME
I would not wish the burning blaze
Of fame around a restless world,
The thunder and the storm of praise
In crowded tumults hear and hurled,
I would not be a flower to stand
The stare of every passerby,
But in some nook of fairyland
Seen in the praise of beauty's eye.
John Clare
(1793-1864)
the heavy price they pay for success. It is my guess that
our Matt bore the loss of of privacy with cheerful equanimity:
IDLE FAME
I would not wish the burning blaze
Of fame around a restless world,
The thunder and the storm of praise
In crowded tumults hear and hurled,
I would not be a flower to stand
The stare of every passerby,
But in some nook of fairyland
Seen in the praise of beauty's eye.
John Clare
(1793-1864)
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Wow Keith, nail on the head with this poem. I heard some stars like David Cassidy and The Bay City Rollers refer to their fame as being in a fishbowl or a sideshow where people look at you. I kinda felt that way when I went to school and lived in the Philippines like I was a freak on display. Not a good experience all in all.
- keithgood838
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- Joined: Sun Feb 10, 2008 6:30 pm
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
thanks, Eman.
BIG BROTHER 2013
The upturned stone that is
the Edward Snowden revelations,
shows up the slimy, sly surveillance
of unwitting free nations;
morons at whom some citizens
shake incensed fists
at the handing of a golden coup
to the heartless jihadists.
While such intrigues
flout national laws on privacy,
freedom's flame will radiate less brightly.
Keith Good
BIG BROTHER 2013
The upturned stone that is
the Edward Snowden revelations,
shows up the slimy, sly surveillance
of unwitting free nations;
morons at whom some citizens
shake incensed fists
at the handing of a golden coup
to the heartless jihadists.
While such intrigues
flout national laws on privacy,
freedom's flame will radiate less brightly.
Keith Good
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Well versed Keith and very true!!
- keithgood838
- Posts: 2478
- Joined: Sun Feb 10, 2008 6:30 pm
Re: POEMS - With Tongue In Cheek
Thanks Eman. The miserable jet stream has moved north
and granted the south of England short respite from endless
rain. Let us celebrate this spell of fine weather courtesy of
another of John Clare's bucolic poems:
FIELD PATH
The beams in blossom with their spots of jet
Smelt sweet as gardens wheresoever met;
The level meadow grass was in the swath;
The hedge briar rose hung right across the path,
White over with its flowers - the grass that lay
Bleaching beneath the twittering heat to hay
Smelt so deliciously, the puzzled bee
Went wondering where the honey sweets could be;
And passerby along the level rows
Stooped down and whipped a bit beneath his nose.
John Clare
and granted the south of England short respite from endless
rain. Let us celebrate this spell of fine weather courtesy of
another of John Clare's bucolic poems:
FIELD PATH
The beams in blossom with their spots of jet
Smelt sweet as gardens wheresoever met;
The level meadow grass was in the swath;
The hedge briar rose hung right across the path,
White over with its flowers - the grass that lay
Bleaching beneath the twittering heat to hay
Smelt so deliciously, the puzzled bee
Went wondering where the honey sweets could be;
And passerby along the level rows
Stooped down and whipped a bit beneath his nose.
John Clare