if I spent my whole life dreaming
I wouldn’t hurt a soul
you can have your real world
and the bell for whom it tolls
fly the squareness of your blanket
from your stuck and steady pole
use the iron in your magnate
for the shoeing of your foal
you can push the evil button
and blow your erstwhile horn
your achievements are bereavements
golden medals made of corn
so batter down your hatches
and tear at things you’ve torn
make up things convincing
while I’m dancing with the faun
Comments
hello simon
Great meter and rhyme
And wonderful wordplay
I really enjoyed this
the only glitch for me is the third verse 'you can have your real world' - just seems a beat short to my ear....
i like the theme - i think there are many of us who would rather be dancing with the faun...
love judy
xxx
thanks Judy
what you say is worth a ponder
xxx
By crikey I would love to give some of your poetry
to a first year university poetry studies class and make them analyse the meanings.
Yes, I own my mean streak.
Seriously though, I feel the Donne reference somewhat at odds with the rest of the piece. Remember that quote starts "No man is an island, entire of itself; ... therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee."
Or is it that in the utter freedom of the realm of imagination each man is indeed an island?