Showing posts with label Oxford fragments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oxford fragments. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 28, 2023

 1047(B) Oxford Fragments


The Bodleian Library might make me afraid -

          But seeing Owen's first attempt

          At Anthem for Doomed Youth I scent

A mind, like mine, wrestling each shade


Of meaning, weighing up each word, he tries

          Until from nowhere they appear,

          Strange answeres to an atheist's prayer

Perfecting the verse as they arise.


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Ask have got their autumn menu in -

          Thick, chunky minestrone,

          Ravioli ai porcini -

On a chilly night it's just the thing!

                          - or not.


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When I'm alone existence turns to verse

And every second thought becomes a line.

How dull my mind must be if all the worst

The world can throw at us ends up in rhyme!


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Two days away and verse explodes like puss

          Escaping from an un-lanced boil

          Gushing forth without the toil

Of squeezing it or making any fuss.


Brian Hick November 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 28.11.23

Monday, November 27, 2023

 1047(A)  Oxford Fragments

There's rain in Oxford - and I'm unprepared.

Even though the forecast warned of rain,

I listened, but it seemed I haven't heard

There's rain in Oxford.

The buses are re-routed yet again

So getting back may raise a naughty word,

While, just as likely to make me profane,

Both Ask and Bella Italia are immured

By Whoopie Goldberg groupies, all insane

For Sister Act - and I am not insured

For rain in Oxford.


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Is the Trojan War a Bronze Age fight

Which the later Homer simplified

To mythical events, taking the side

Of Iron Age barbarity and might?


And should we read a real nobility

Into the Trojans as they stand before

The Mycenaeans' on a raiding spree

To smash and vandalise what was adored?


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Overnight rain steaming in the sun

          Glistening cobwebs on the gate,

          Misty patches, lingering late;

Autumn's gentle magic has begun.


But a rat lies in the driveway, paddling air,

          It's throat torn out by some night predator

          And on the Oxford bypass, a dead deer;

No respite from nature's bloody law.


Brian Hick November 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 27.11.23