There was an elderly general named Lot
Who recovered from having been shot.
On returning to his plain, old wife
He remarked “upon my own dear life,
Would that he had been a better shot!”
I am pleased to announce that Jaye Tomas is the winner of the above competition.
Congratulations to Jaye who wins a signed copy of my collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind”.
You can visit Jaye’s blog here, https://chimerapoetry.wordpress.com/.
The question asked was, which novel begins as follows:
“1801.–I have just returned from a visit to my landlord–the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with”.
The answer is “Wuthering Heights” by Emily Bronte.
For anyone who hasn’t read this excellent novel, I strongly recommend doing so. I recently took down my four-volume braille edition and greatly enjoyed re-reading this dark and tempestuous novel.
There are many electronic versions of “Wuthering Heights” available (the novel has long been out of copyright).
You can find one such version here, https://www.wuthering-heights.co.uk/wh/novel/html/chapter_01.
To find out about “My Old Clock I Wind” please visit, http://moyhill.com/clock/.
Should a man repent
Of unmentionable scent
When others were long ago acquainted
With the flower he has tainted?
Is a moral debate
Worth a candle
When the vandal
Has stormed the gate?
I stand opposed to all privilege,
To the bitter end.
Yet, if it be mine own
I do, as a dog with a bone
My privilege defend,
Gainst foe and friend
There was an elderly general called Lot
Who remarked “queen and country, wot!”.
Why he did so,
I really don’t know.
I regret that Lot got shot!
Silent reflector of dreams.
A girl’s make-up seems
To hide
What lies inside.
For no crack must be seen
On your perfect screen.
But girls waking up, in the morning,
Stretching, yawning,
Should they chance
To glance
In the glass, may see
The real she.
There was a young lady called Glass
Who hailed from the working class.
She wed an aristocratic old farmer,
Who was far from a charmer,
But were there’s muck there’s brass.
(For the origin and meaning of the phrase “were there’s muck there’s brass”, please see http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/408900.html).
There was an elderly gentleman called Farmer
Who was a real old charmer.
He proposed to a much younger girl,
Which put her head in a whirl.
They were married by a Tibetan Lama.
A couple on the platform kiss.
“This
Place isn’t real” he says.
Oh happy days
For lovers. And I
Do not hear what she answers in reply.
This poem first appeared here on 9 April 2017:
In the restaurant its just the waiter and I,
While outside the window Vehicles speed by.
“There are a lot of beautiful women outside today”,
He remarks by way
Of conversation.
I drink
My wine and think
About this nation
On who’s empire the sun would never set.
Kipling may regret,
Yet
The sun continues to shine
And there is curry and wine,
While in the street
Multiracial feet
Hurry
Along,
Beating out a more or less harmonious song.
K Morris - Poet 