Lives Of The Poets

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I told you once,CC Image courtesy of gasboyben on Flickr

In a desperate moment,

That I have a famous poet relative, and

Could you guess who?

Auden,

You began

No.

Owen?

Random

And didn’t he die childless?

Then a curve ball

Smyrno…

I don’t know how to spell her,

But the other day

Bed-bound

I read the poet who

You said

‘Kept me alive one February in Massachussetts’

You paint pictures with words

It’s little wonder I couldn’t

Resist you.

I loved her too.

 

You went on…

Arnold,

You have something Arnoldian about you.

I don’t like where this is going,

I said.

Betjeman?

Lessing?

Clare?

Mad.  Thanks.

And sad

That that should be my first thought.

I gave you a clue,

A clever clue

For a clever guesser

But it didn’t help.

Dryden

Your final guess

Before calling it a night

Sleep tight

You said

In Clapham

Where Arnold

And his ‘fine jaw’

Were from

Apparently.

 

The other day I

Looked up Arnold.

I’m not talking to you anymore,

I said,

As a joke.

You took it literally.

CC Image courtesy of Beppie K on Flickr



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