Oscar turned pale
And languished in Reading Gaol
For “the love that dare not speak it’s name”.
It was society’s shame
That he found no peace
And died soon after his release.
Housman remained buttoned up
And took
Pains to hide
Inside his verse.
The poet wrote of lads dying young.
Neither he nor Oscar swung
For their “crime”,
And we are left with the rhyme
Of “The Ballad of Reading Gaol”
And a poet who hid his “curse”
Within his verse.
There was a young lady named Lin
Who invited me in to sin.
I didn’t have much time
So I wrote this rhyme
About that naughty young lady named Lin!
In “My Madonna”, by Robert W. Service, the narrator describes how he “hailed” a prostitute “from the street” and painted her portrait. Having added a halo to the original painting, the poet/narrator sells the portrait, which now hangs in a church” Where you and all may see”.
It is merely my interpretation, but the line “ And I sold her and took my fee”, suggests to me a connection between the subject of the painting (a prostitute) and the poet (over and above the obvious fact that he painted her portrait). Both are selling something. In the case of the “Madonna” this is sex, while the poet is selling the prostitute’s painting and, in a sense the girl herself.
You can find the poem here, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46644/my-madonna
On the evening of Thursday 8 February, I caught up with my friend, and fellow poet Toby Wheeler. Over a couple of pints we discussed poetry and put the world to rights. Well we certainly did the former but, on reflection the latter is open to debate.
You can find examples of Toby’s poetry here, https://www.writeoutloud.net/profiles/tobyw.
Walking around the Museum of Slavery, in Liverpool
I come face-to-face with the cruel
Past
Where ships crossed the ocean vast
With their human cargo.
Many a negro
Slave
Paid for beautiful properties to be built
By Liverpool merchants who gave
Generously to charity
To set themselves free
From guilt.
Its true
That slavery isn’t new.
It was practiced in Greek and Roman time,
Yet the crime
Of the transatlantic slave trade
Has made
More of a mark
Perhaps because those of lighter skin
Committed the sin
Of taking those of dark
Complexion
From their native land,
Which was a rejection
Of the truth that beneath the skin
We are one in nature
(Or god the creator),
Depending on your view
Of what is true.
Our love died long ago
And I know
Not what Happened to you.
But I remember walking through
That place
Just Two lovers of different race …
The monster’s son
Hates what he may become.
Half buried childhood scenes
Torment in dreams.
Fear
Stalks near
And the monster’s son
Sheds a tear
For what he may become.
There was a young man named Cook
Who said “look, I have written a book!”.
When the reading public gave a yawn
His poor heart was in pieces torn.
That naive young man named Cook!
There was a young man from Liverpool
Who liked to play the fool.
His dog called Jim
Was fond of him
And they never would go to school!
There was a young man from Cork
Who said “babies are brought by the stork”.
His wife named Lou
Said “that isn’t true,
You foolish young man from Cork!”.
An anthology to raise money for a very good cause.
The “Please Hear What I’m Not Saying” poetry anthology will be released on 8 February 2018 and includes 116 poets from around the world exploring a range of mental health issues. Editor Isabelle Kenyon said “I knew I wanted to work collaboratively with other poets and it was actually the theme of mental health for a collection, which came to me before the idea of donating the profits to charity MIND. This was because I knew how strongly people felt about the subject and that it is often through writing that the most difficult of feelings can be expressed. I think that is why the project received the sheer number of submissions that it did.”
She discussed how she selected the poems, “In some cases of course personal taste came into my selection, but I tried to be as objective as I could and consider the collection as whole. I…
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