My friend Al reminded me that today was National Poetry Day, but said he'd got nothing to say. So I wrote him a haiku:
Allister Jordan
Tried to write a new poem
But sadly he failed.
Al said this was not acceptable, as a haiku should contain 17 silly bulls. I therefore wrote a new one:
Seventeen silly
Bulls do not fit easily
Into a haiku.
However, the theme of this year's NPD is supposed to be home, and my haiku have very little to do with home, so I will instead hand over to a recognized (albeit dead) master of the poetic craft:
Home Is So Sad
Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft
And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery
The music in the piano stool. That vase.
(Philip Larkin)
Allister Jordan
Tried to write a new poem
But sadly he failed.
Al said this was not acceptable, as a haiku should contain 17 silly bulls. I therefore wrote a new one:
Seventeen silly
Bulls do not fit easily
Into a haiku.
However, the theme of this year's NPD is supposed to be home, and my haiku have very little to do with home, so I will instead hand over to a recognized (albeit dead) master of the poetic craft:
Home Is So Sad
Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft
And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery
The music in the piano stool. That vase.
(Philip Larkin)
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