I must go onto Amazon and look for this. Thanks very much.

Thanks, Steve. I think I need an idle demon hanging around in my bookshelves. Thank heavens for ABE Books!

For you, sis.
 

SIster, Come Soon

Sister, come soon, come soon, this is the house you seek,
Come today or come tomorrow or come next week,
The garden gate is unbolted and the door ajar;
Come early, come early my star.

Do not delay, sister, time is not standing still,
The leaves turn brown on the trees and the moorbirds honk on the hill,
Jupiter peers at me boldly with beady eye;
Sister draw nigh.

Sister, the bridal gown lies fading in Father’s trunk,
The little boys are away and the wine is drunk,
The Post Office man has taken away the telephone;
Come early, come early, my own.

Come as I lie in bed and lay your hand on my brow,
Once it was petal-smooth, rhinoceros-wrinkled now;
We shall sit at evening watching dim embers burn.
O sister, return.

Lank grows the grass in the yard that the goats of childhood cropped,
The roof has fallen in and the clocks have stopped.
Time has destroyed it all, all that Time can destroy;
Come early, come early my joy.

R.P.Lister. 1914-

Address!
 

Amazing discoveries now.

From 2004 International Who's Who of Writers:

Richard Percival Lister. Born 23 November 1914, Nottingham, England. Author, poet, painter. Married to Ione Mary Wynnatt Husey 24th June 1985!
Education: BSc. Manchester University.

Address! Flat 1. 42 St.James Gardens, London W11 4RQ !

I shall write to him...I shall go and knock on his door!

Thank you for your efforts here, Steve.

We should come up with a Wikipedia entry for him.

Do it!
 

Thanks Ed, that sounds like a good idea. Of course I realise I should not rush in where I may not be wanted. I have emailed the almshouses where he may be still living, asking their permission to contact him. His novel The Questing Beast is also turning out to be a stunningly good read. I am in awe of his liveliness, wit and writing skill.I think some publisher would benefit from rediscovering his poetry and novels.

Ballade. R.P.Lister.
 

Ballade on Experience

I am not quite as lonely as a cloud,
My heart is not quite like a singing bird,
My head is neither bloody nor unbowed;
This state of things is totally absurd,
For all the poets of whom I ever heard
Were either phthisical or deep in debt,
Still, these delights grow riper when deferred-
Everything has not happened to me yet.

When I am wrapped in my natty shroud,
Nailed in a shiny coffin, and interred,
The little worms and parasites will crowd
To graze upon me in a hungry herd.
I shall not speak, I shall not say a word,
I shall not utter one reproach or threat,
For from their actions this may be inferred-
Everything has not happened to me yet.

Within the tent of Suleiman bin Daoud
The high-born cats sat round about and purred.
One read the Psalms of David out aloud,
One softly played the rebeck , and a third
Sniffed at a bowl of steaming punch, and stirred
The amber liquor with a spoon of jet.
I was not present when this scene occurred-
Everything has not happened to me yet.

Most noble Prince, empanoplied and spurred,
Do not despair because we have not met;
Although my back is bent, my vision blurred,
Everything has not happened to me yet.

I'm enjoying these poems very much, and so I feel terribly ogre-like when I remind you all that posting material--especially whole poems--that might be copyrighted to a living person or that person's publisher is, well, a vexed question. We've vexed ourselves over it often, and we usually end up saying, "What's the problem? We're discussing the poems." So let's do make sure we're discussing the poems.

Metamorphosing back into non-ogre form now.

Thanks, Maryann.
 

Thanks for the reminder, Maryann. I think that's enough typing for me. I wanted to do it because I think Lister has been lost from view. On the Deutsch dust-jacket he is "listed"..."listered?"... with Stevie Smith, Roy Fuller, David Wright, Laurie Lee, Elizabeth Jennings, David Gascoyne and H.D., all of whom I have heard of and read. Why has Lister disappeared? Was he considered Light, old fashioned, formalist? He certainly wouldn't have fitted into the 60's London literary scene.Yet his work seems fresh, funny, with "hidden depths". I'm hoping others will get interested and seek out these very entertaining books. For the formal versemeisters (is that even a word?) they look like essential inspiration.

From The British Library.
 

Ha! (as Sergio would say)

I am sitting in the splendid British Library learning more about R.P. Lister and the meaning of life.

I'll let R.P. say a few words:

"So let us, in our failure and obscurity
Enjoy our life in moderate impurity.
I have a fancy it may soon be dark,
So I must go and potter round the Park."

Steve.