Thursday, April 9, 2009

Poetry Slam Friday Thursday

If you lot are anything like me, you'll probably be spending Good Friday desperately looking for a pub that's open in quiet contemplation and prayer.

In that vein, I present a very special Poetry Slam Friday*.


A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The was deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,

Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

*With added religiousness!


Perseus said...

Well, as far as travelogues go, he's not going to get a job on Getaway. Though they'd be better off having a review like that.

Host: And now here's David Reyne, travelling in the deep south of the USA. Giddyup David, yee-ha!

David Reyne: Thanks Livinia. We came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel, six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver and feet kicking the empty wine-skins.


I would also like to quote TISM from their piece, "TS Eliot - He Wankah"

You can become the greatest American poet since the war Mister Eliot,

You can be quoted in 'Heart Of Darkness' Mister Eliot

But there's one thing you should never do.

Don't you ever step on my blue suede shoes."


Prufrock is in my Top 3 poems EVAH.

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

T S Eliot.

Great poet, lousey human being.

Lewd Bob said...

I agree Perseus, why does Getaway and, for that matter, Lonely Planet, and, while we're on it, Angela Bishop, talk everything up all the time? Sometimes places (and movies, Angela...oh i see, you're paid to say it's great) are just shit.

Here's my review of Vietnam: Ok in parts, generally shit.

Perseus said...

Here's my review of Bulgaria:

Pretty looking places but the people hit and miss and all of them quite unattractive.

Here's my review of Denmark: Same as Australia, but colder and a bit older.

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Slovenia, on the other hand, rocks!

Lewd Bob said...

Perseus, I recall you calling Copenhagen the Camberwell of Europe.

Further, you forgot to mention how beautiful the women are in Denmark. The men are quite handsome too. And helpful. I was once in a Danish supermarket purchasing a six pack of beer. A man leaned over and informed me that the beer I was gripping tightly was, in fact, lite. My grip loosened, the beer fell to the floor, and I raced back to get real beer. I am eternally grateful to that anonymous Dane and his assertiveness.

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

A lucky escape indeed, Bob.

Perseus said...

"Camberwell with boats" was my summary of Copenhagen.

I thought the men weren't that attractive there - big foreheads. But the women... oh God.

My favourite hot chick sotry from Denmark: I made a friend on the Buddhist temple. Half-Thai guy, captain of the Buddhist soccer team (they never won a match), and he worked in a warehouse somewhere. So, I'm at his family home having tea, and an amazingly good looking woman walks past the window. He runs out, gets her in a headlock, messes up her hair and dishevels her clothing. She gives him a corky or two, they laugh, chat for a bit, then he comes back in, and she goes into the house next door.

"Wow," I said, "Is that your neighbour?"

"She grew up next door, we're the same age. She doesn't live here anymore. She's just visiting her Mum."

"She's beautiful," I said.

"Of course," he said.

"Of course?"

"Don't you know her?" he asked.

"Why would I know your neighbour?"

"It's Helena Christensen, doofus."

Lewd Bob said...

The shampoo woman?

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

I've always thought travel narrows the mind.

Melba said...

So, who was it, Ramon? Lawrence of Arabia? And how's your back?

Also, Prufrock is in MY top three poems, Perseus.

Also, Helena Christensen, wow.

Happy Eggs everyone.

And Go Cats, kill those Magpies.

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Back's fine, thanks Melba.

Cath said...

Helena? Oh Perseus. You are really retarded.

In the nicest possible way of course.

Perseus said...

If it means I don't recognise supermodels in the street, I'm proud of my retardation. I still don't really know what she looks like...

But this weekend, I'm going to the Stawell Gift (so Tuesday Sports Wrap will be an eyewitness account), where, amongst other stars of Track & Field, Tamsyn Lewis will be running.

If she's even vaguely approachable, I'll try to get a photo with her.

Lewd Bob said...

Say hi from me.

Melba said...

Tell her from me she needs to pull back on the tanning just a smidge. Thanks.