I knew nothing about Dennis’s post-Oz life till a year or two ago, when the Poetry Society mailed out to all members a glossy piece of tat called “Island Dreams” (can you believe it?) – “99 Poems from Mustique” (can you believe that?). All colour photos and an embossed cover like an airport novel. Apparently Dennis had used his millions, or a friend’s millions, for this sleazy piece of self-promotion.
And then there were the contents!
Stuff like this:
“The first and second tides bleat soft, like sheep;
So soft are they, their waters barely creep
Past infant castles patted in a heap.....”
Or how’s this for a New Year poem:
“Moonlight waltzes in the clouds
To stir the silver sea,
The palms are waving in the wind:
‘Goodbye, goodbye, ’03’.”
Here’s a fave moment:
“My floating fort lies safe in port,
And not a drop is spilt,
A creeping tide buoys up my pride:
Was that why ships were built?”
Compassion for my fellow-Spherians makes me stop there. Imagine it, 99 of these things!
I open the book occasionally for reassurance. It's nice knowing there's at least one worse poet than me in the world.
Still, it's great if he's also capable of writing good stuff.
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