Monday, 5 July 2010

T S Eliot from beyond the grave

Continuing our dead poets series we come to T S Eliot.

Simple guidelines on how to construct your own dead poet novelty poem appear together with a Thomas Hardy poem from the beyond. It's just a few posts below this one.

T S Eliot's poem from beyond the grave

In the room the women come and go
Then sit for half an hour and drink our bocks
Under the twinkle of a fading star

Redeem the time, redeem the dream

In the land of lobelias and tennis flannels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster shells;
And woodthrush calling through the fog

The stubborn season has made stand

And you see the corner of her eye
Among whispers; by Mr Silvero
And other heroes of that kidney

Assured of certain certainties

A meagre blue-nailed phthisic hand
The lengthened shadow of a man
Letting his arms hang down to laugh

To keep our metaphysics warm.

2010 gw/tse


  1. Thank you Gordon. I'm making it longer.

  2. I can't understand why these poems make such an impact - can you explain it? Is it because they are such good poets in the first place?

  3. Weaver,
    They must be good poets, I wouln't try and do it with a not good poet. But, hey, maybe you have something. Now that's an idea. I will search the web and find the most terrible verses and then ... but on 2nd thoughts perhaps not. Certainly not.

    Your answer must be on the right lines.

  4. I agree - on a roll well done Gwilym

  5. you might be a reincarnation. But reincarnations are pot luck, you could have gotten Hitler, or Mickey Mouse. Count your blessings...

  6. Thank you John and Mags for your comments. They haven't appeared here yet...don't know why not. But as you see I've received them.

    Maybe they'll appear here in due course.

  7. Yup, he stills sounds an aesthetically pleasing way, of course.

  8. My comments boxes are working again. Bit of a hiccup there but now all OK. Thanks to everyone for their patience.


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