[John Whitworth]

Well, it IS sixteen lnes but Im not sure she'll wear lines as long as that. Pity. I like it.

Philip Larkin Rewrites Dunbar's 'Timor Mortis'

Whenever I succumb to cold
I fear the end of being old.
Whenever I am sick in bed
I worry about being dead.

For Death's a democratic thing.
The Queen will die. Her dad the King,
He died. Dad did. They all go through it.
There's nobody who doesn't do it.

Financiers, as rich as Croesus,
Fall prey to various diseases.
Immortal poets, even those,
In course of time turn up their toes.

Eliot, Housman, Auden, Larkin,
All call, perforce, the Lord of Dark in.
He stills our song. He stops our breath.
I am consumed by Fear of Death.

[Roger Slater]

I also recall that many of us here rewrote the Red Wheelbarrow poem in the mode of a variety of poets. I've just looked at mine, and they don't stand the test of time, but others here might dust theirs off and see if they fly.

[Ann Drysdale]

Rondel

François Villon paraphrases the sentiments
of the Duke of Orleans -

Now sling your hook and bugger off
Remorse, regret, repentance, rue
I’ve had it with the lot of you.
You’ve fucked things up for long enough,
Pissed on my chips and ruined stuff –
As of today I’ll start anew
So sling your hook and bugger off
Remorse, regret, repentance, rue
If you come back I might get rough
With all you lily-livered crew.
I’ll kick your arses black and blue
And if you whinge and whimper – tough!
Now sling your hook and bugger off.