Perhaps I think
Too much on fallen leaves,
When I ought to drink
From Keats’s beaker.
Hemlock is not my friend,
Yet the nightingale, Keats heard
Speaks of beauty,
And life’s end.
Perhaps I think
Too much on fallen leaves,
When I ought to drink
From Keats’s beaker.
Hemlock is not my friend,
Yet the nightingale, Keats heard
Speaks of beauty,
And life’s end.
Fallen blossom.
Sunshine.
Women.
And wine.
In “10 of the best political poems everyone should read”, the site Interesting Literature lists (amongst others) W. H. Auden’s “September 1st, 1939” and Rudyard Kipling’s fine poem “Recessional”. The latter poem is no mere glorification of British imperial might. The words “lest we forget” and Kipling’s references to long gone empires, and those “drunk on power” demonstrates that the poet recognises that empires and civilisations pass. We should not be arrogant but must maintain a “humble” and “contrite” heart.
You can read Interesting Literature’s post here, https://interestingliterature.com/2020/06/political-poems/.
I have written a number of poems touching on the subject of politics, including the below poem, which is entitled “When the Squire, Sitting By His Fire”:
When the squire
Sitting by his fire,
Rang the bell,
Who can tell
Whether the servant, summoned by his call
Had any desire
For the great hall to fall.
How easy ’tis to condemn
Past men.
But tell me
would you reject
The established imperfect
For a future that may never be?
(The above Poem can be found in my collection “Light and Shade”, which is available here
https://www.amazon.com/Light-Shade-serious-not-poems/dp/B08B37VVKV.
When
Middle-aged men
Indulge in sinning
With much
Younger women,
Should we condemn
Such men?
Is it merely sinning
When such men
Undress those whose clothes
Are in fashion?
Perchance, when the dance of passion
Is long gone, something lives on.
A young lady named Miss Whiting
Is extremely fond of creative writing.
I’ve seen her etching,
Which is rather fetching.
One day I’ll see her writing.
There once was a man most dissolute
Who, being possessed of a magic flute
Said, to beautiful Miss Sally,
“Let us explore love’s valley”.
But she disliked him, and his flute
When a young lady named Lou
Said, “1 plus 1 equals 2”,
And her boyfriend, Mr Lee
Said, “shall we try 3?”.
Lou whacked him with her shoe!
A cold, sharp bark
Pearces the dark,
Interrupting a thought
I really ought
Not to indulge in,
Of women
And sin.
In the city
Those who are witty
Say, in fun,
“Civilisation is done”.
Whilst, in the dark
A fox’s bark
Sounds near, and clear.
When an extremely rude young man named Matt
Said, “you are a terrible, bloated old plutocrat!”,
I sipped my fine wine
And said, “shall we dine?”.
And I threw a crust to that Matt!
An expert in quick dressing,
A pretty lass
Does her hair,
With no sign of stressing,
In his mute glass.
A man’s confession
Of sin, may outlive him.
And her profession
Will continue on,
Though she is gone.