26 October, 2010

A few years ago i bought a book called Cursory Rhymes by an early twentieth century writer called Humbert Wolfe. It is lovely, simple, and briefly inspired me.

Humbert Wolfe

It does not do,
it is not well,
To now compare
this Wolfe to El-

iot: Good Tom
who wrote The Waste
Land in such an
amazing haste

He did not find
good translations,
But left the quotes
of other nations’

Pithy sayings
in their own tongue,
And makes me feel
like so much dung ~

My simple lack
of savoir faire
And basic nous
when i am there.

But Wolfe, he’s not
like that at all:
His easy rhymes
don’t cause a fall.

He wrote for child-
ren, i would guess:
His gentle rhymes ~
a Mum’s caress.

And just because
they’re light and fun,
Doesn’t mean that
on the tongue

They have no
value, use, or
Worth; no less
is he a bore.

This good Wolfe,
unlike Big Bad,
Has nice rhymes,
and makes me glad

I read him ~
not like old Tom
Whose poetry
is like a bomb

Shell hitting
in my brain,
To end it all
once again.

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