Poems

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Got a call from the editor of TableAus, the Australian Mensa magazine. They are going to publish one of Mr Newbery's poems in the next edition.

You can read it here.
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Rovers ahead - an entry in the silly poetry competition.

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Percy, Sir Percy to some, has a poetry competition happening; a silly poetry competition.

See here.

In a cheese and onion sandwich induced delirium, I felt the need to enter.

Here is my my effort:

Beam, I've alley time.

Rovers ahead
Violins argue
Sioux garish wheat
Hand sowers renew
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Shit-house Poetry

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Poetry in the loo can cut down on paper use too, says a Japanese group campaigning to save toilet paper as part of the country's battle against global warming.

Simply pasting a "toilet poem" at the eye level of a person seated in the cubicle can help cut toilet paper use by up to 20 per cent, a study by the research centre Japan Toilet Labo showed.

"That paper will meet you only for a moment," reads one poem.
"Fold the paper over and over and over again," says another.
Or just: "Love the toilet".

Now the group is looking to have its posters displayed in 1,000 public toilets.

Perhaps J Cosmo could come up with an offering?
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To a poet, a thousand years hence.

To a Poet a thousand years hence

I who am dead a thousand years,
And wrote this sweet archaic song,
Send you my words for messengers
The way I shall not pass along.

I care not if you bridge the seas,
Or ride secure the cruel sky,
Or build consummate palaces
Of metal or of masonry.

But have you wine and music still,
And statues and a bright-eyed love,
And foolish thoughts of good and ill,
And prayers to them who sit above?

How shall we conquer? Like a wind
That falls at eve our fancies blow,
And old Moeonides the blind
Said it three thousand years ago.

O friend unseen, unborn, unknown,
Student of our sweet English tongue,
Read out my words at night, alone:
I was a poet, I was young.

Since I can never see your face,
And never shake you by the hand,
I send my soul through time and space
To greet you. You will understand.

James Elroy Flecker.
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Sometimes

Sometimes

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.

- Sheenagh Pugh

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