Should I to the bookies go, and put cash
On this prospect rash?
I doubt the horse can win the race (though the crowd
In his support are loud
And grope
For hope
In empty pools
Where fools
Drown).
Do I want him to win?
I grin
And keep my own counsel, for the wise
Do not prate
Or rise
To the bait.
They cultivate
A zen-like state
And patiently wait …
Lucy Brazier is the author of PorterGirl: First Lady Of The Keys, a zany trip through mayhem and chaos as Old College suffers it’s first ever female Deputy Head Porter.
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Waking early,
And being unable to return to the land of slumber,
Idly I wonder
About our need for sleep,
For we can not pretend
That he will not take us all in the end.
In the rocks, Echo does reside.
We take pride
In her speech
For she doth preach
As we do.
Through
Her voice
We know the only possible choice
For it is that of our brothers
(Echo’s lovers),
Who
Understand the one true
Way,
For they
Echo every word we say
While gazing in the glass
She heard a mocking laugh.
On looking behind
She did find
Narcissus lounging on the bed.
“What, you here? again!” she said
Soon baubles and toys
Will intrude, while the day’s noise
Will wrap me in petty care
Yet, on awakening there
Where
The birds, as they always are
Drowning out lorry and car.
My thanks to Sue Vincent for her kindness in publishing my guest post.
It is frequently remarked that “the only things certain in life are death and taxes”. While this old adage contains much truth, one may, perhaps rephrase it to read thus, “the only thing certain in life is that poets will write about death”.
One of the finest poems concerning mortality is, in my opinion Ernest Dowson’s “Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam”:
“They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.
*
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream”.
Life’s pleasures are brief (as is Dowson’s poem). Wine and roses (the pleasures of food and love) pass and our existence ends “as in a dream”. (https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/vitae-summa-brevis-spem-nos-vetat-incohare-longam).
In…
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Shall I pen a verse
Sufficiently terse
To appear on Twitter?
And would I be bitter
Should my Twit
Fail to fit?
