Prufrock

Come, let us go. Or maybe not;
the universe is out of reach.
Those women speak of art a lot,
but not to me. Life's a peach.

You're dying, dad. I wish you'd rage.
I can't stand sentimental.
Death is bad at any age.
For God's sake, don't go gentle.

O Western Wind when wilt thou blow
And bring the rain that’s tiny?
Christ that I were on my love
And she upon her hiney!

Margaret, are you weeping
Over Goldengrove not keeping
All the leaves that made it pretty?
It is Margaret you pity!

Tom bears in logs, Dick blows, owl sings, Joan keels,
A red nose glows amid the ice;
Priest drones, the people cough, their blood congeals;
The owl and Joan both do it twice.

The Odyssey

Odysseus, wander!
Penelope, knit!
Adventures to ponder.
That's pretty much it.

Politics
(WB Yeats)

I guess there'll be another war.
The speeches have been made.
But I reserve my passion for
Vain thoughts of getting laid.


Do Not Go Gentle

Why so gentle, father, why?
I don't know where you get off
Being peaceful as you die.
Why don't you scream your head off?


When to the sessions . . .

When to the sessions of sweet, silent thought
I contemplate my sorry lot,
I think of you. It cheers me up.
You're the best friend that I've got.

I was right. This is compulsive. God help Lucy!

A sun-bronzed Surrey tennis girl
sets a soldier’s heart a-whirl.
They park the car, do nothing naughty
and get engaged around twelve-forty.
(Betjeman)

The waking King is heard to utter
whining royal demands for butter.
“Try marmalade,” the cow replies,
then, like a sycophant, complies.
(Milne)

Tell me about it, Martin.

If

If you can keep your head screwed tight
When no one else around you can,
It means your daddy raised you right
And you, my son, are now a man.

Roger/Bob,
I don't envy you the job of having to pick which three (!) of yours to submit.

(I'd say 'If' and your first 'Do Not Go Gentle' are major contenders, if that helps.)

Jayne