Friday Poetry: T. S. Eliot

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has some good weekend plans ahead. This week’s poem is an old favourite. As some of you know I love the cat poems by Eliot so I thought I would share another of my favourites.

The Rum Tug Tugger

The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.
If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,
If you put him in a flat then he’d rather have a house.
If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,
If you set him on a rat then he’d rather chase a mouse.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat–
And there isn’t any call for me to shout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there’s no doing anything about it!

The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore:
When you let him in, then he wants to be out;
He’s always on the wrong side of every door,
And as soon as he’s at home, then he’d like to get about.
He likes to lie in the bureau drawer,
But he makes such a fuss if he can’t get out.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat–
And there isn’t any use for you to doubt it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there’s no doing anything about it!

The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast:
His disobliging ways are a matter of habit.
If you offer him fish then he always wants a feast;
When there isn’t any fish then he won’t eat rabbit.
If you offer him cream then he sniffs and sneers,
For he only likes what he finds for himself;
So you’ll catch him in it right up to the ears,
If you put it away on the larder shelf.

The Rum Tum Tugger is artful and knowing,
The Rum Tum Tugger doesn’t care for a cuddle;
But he’ll leap on your lap in the middle of your sewing,
For there’s nothing he enjoys like a horrible muddle.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat–
And there isn’t any need for me to spout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there’s no doing anything about it!

T. S. Eliot

The Rum Tug Tugger really is the epitome of cats.

Friday Poetry: Hugo Williams

Happy Friday!

This week I have chosen a poem by Hugo Williams. Williams was born in 1942 and is a British poet, journalist and travel writer.

Reading through some poetry this week and this poem really stuck out for me and I have read it quite a few times since discovering it.

Tides

The evening advances, then withdraws again

Leaving our cups and books like islands on the floor.

We are drifting you and I,

As far from one another as the young heroes

Of these two novels we have just laid down.

For that is happiness: to wander alone

Surrounded by the moon, whose tides remind us of ourselves,

Our distances, and what we leave behind.

The lamp left on, the curtains letting in the light.

These things were promises. No doubt we will come

back to them.

Hugo Williams

Friday Poetry: Ogden Nash

Happy Friday!

This week’s poem is a short one that made me laugh. It is by the American poet Ogden Nash and is based on homophones.

A Flea and a Fly

A flea and a fly in a flue

Were imprisoned, so what could they do?

Said the fly, ‘Let us flee!’

‘Let us fly!’ said the flea

So they flew through a flaw in the flue.

Ogden Nash

Friday Poetry: Edgar Allen Poe

Happy Friday!

This Friday’s poem is by the great Edgar Allen Poe.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

She was a child and I was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love –

I and my Annabel Lee –

With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud by night

Chilling my Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me:

Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling

And killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we –

Of many far wiser than we –

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea –

In her tomb by the side of the sea.

Edgar Allen Poe

Friday Poetry: George MacDonald

Happy Friday!

Around this time of year lilies start to flower and although I’m highly allergic to lilies I do love water lilies and look forward to seeing them flower in our pond. So I have chosen a poem about lilies for this week.

Little White Lily

Little white Lily

Sat by a stone,

Drooping and waiting

Till the sun shone.

Little white Lily

Sunshine has fed;

Little white Lily

Is lifting her head.

Little white Lily

Said: ‘It is good:

Little white Lily’s

Clothing and fool!

Little white Lily

Drest like a bride!

Shining with whiteness,

And crowned beside!’

Little white Lily

Droopeth in pain,

Waiting and waiting

For the wet rain.

Little white Lily

Holdeth her cup;

Rain is fast falling,

And filling it up.

Little white Lily

Said: ‘Good again,

When I am thirsty

To have nice rain!

Now I am stronger,

Now I am cool;

Heat cannot burn me,

My veins are so full!’

Little white Lily

Smells very sweet:

On her head sunshine,

Rain at her feet.

‘Thanks to the sunshine!

Thanks to the rain!

Little white Lily

Is happy again!’

George MacDonald

Happy Reading!

Friday Poetry: Clive Webster

Happy Friday!

The poem I have chosen today is from a poet I’ve never come across before but I throughly like this poem so thought I would share it.

The Magic of the Mind

I’ve read in books of magic lands

So very far away,

Where genies pop up out of lamps

And magic creatures play.

Where wizards weave their magic spells

And dragons breathe out fire,

Where just one wish gives young and old

Their every heart’s desire.

Those lands, of course, are just in books,

But if you try real hard,

Those magic places come to life

Right in your own back yard.

For sitting quietly in the sun

On a lazy Summer’s day

You can sit and smile and dream you’re there

In those lands so far away.

And as the sunshine warms your mind

You’re in those golden lands,

With wizards, genies, dragons, spells,

And cut-throat pirate bands.

You’re saving damsels in distress,

You’re fighting deadly duels,

You’re banqueting in marbled halls,

You’re decked in priceless jewels.

You’re there, you’re there, no need for books,

So real and oh so clear,

So marvellous and so magical,

To touch and smell and hear,

Just sitting there in golden sun

You leave your cares behind,

And go to magic places

In the Magic of your Mind.

Clive Webster

Friday Poetry: Mandy Coe

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has some fantastic books planned to read this weekend. I can’t help but remember that this time last year I was in Hawaii having an amazing holiday and reading some fab books by the pool.

Anyway, here is my chosen poem.

Amelia Earhart

‘…fears are paper tigers.’

A ribbon in her hair and mud on her dress

Amelia climbs too high

then, like any child in a tree,

blinks at the dizzying ground and sky.

Amelia spreads the map on her knees

to light the Atlantic with her torch.

She taps the fuel gauge, adjusts her course.

The stars seemed near enough to touch.

Amelia’s red Vega roars around

a world of cloud and sun and time,

and whenever a child defeats

her fears, Amelia still climbs.

Mandy Coe

Happy Reading

Friday Poetry: Emily Dickinson

Happy Friday Everyone!

I can’t quite believe it is Friday again so soon. I hope everyone has some good books planned for the weekend.

This week’s poem is by Emily Dickinson.

A Bird Came Down the Walk

A Bird came down the Walk –

He did not know I saw –

He bit an Angleworm in halves

And ate the fellow, raw,

And then he drank a Dew

From a convenient Grass –

And then hopped sidewise to the Wall

To let a Beetle pass –

He glanced with rapid eyes

That hurried all around –

They looked like frightened Beads, I thought –

He stirred his Velvet Head.

Like one in danger, Cautious,

I offered him a Crumb

And he unrolled his feathers

And rowed him softer home –

Than Oars divide the Ocean,

Too silver for a seam –

Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon

Leap, plashless as they swim.

Emily Dickinson

Friday Poetry: Spike Milligan

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has some good book plans for the weekend.

My chosen poem this week is by Spike Milligan and I love it because it is nonsense and sometimes we all need a little nonsense in our lives. Oh and it mentions cats!

The Land of the Bumbley Boo

In the Land of the Bumbley Boo

The People are red white and blue,

They never blow noses,

Or ever wear closes,

What a sensible thing to do!

In the Land of the Bumbley Boo

You can buy Lemon Pie at the Zoo;

They give away Foxes

In little Pink Boxes

And Bottles of Dandylion Stew.

In the Land of the Bumbley Boo

You never see a Gnu,

But thousands of cats

Wearing trousers and hats

Made of Pumpkins and Pelican Clue!

Oh, the Bumbley Boo! the Bumbley Boo!

That’s the place for me and you!

So hurry! Let’s run!

The train leaves at one!

For the Land of the Bumbley Boo!

The wonderful Bumbley Boo-Boo-Boo!

The Wonderful Bumbley BOO!!!

Spike Milligan.

Happy reading!

Friday Poetry: Stevie Smith

Happy Friday!

I hope all my fellow Book Dragons have some good books planned for the weekend.

This week’s poem is only short but it hits home with me at this time. This poem is about friendship and spending time with friends. I must admit I miss my friends at the moment. My best friend is a 4 hour car journey away and I miss her like crazy. We speak daily but it isn’t the same as a proper catch up. Hopefully we will be able to meet up soon.

Florence Margaret Smith, known as Stevie Smith (20th September 1902 – 7th March 1971), was an English poet and novelist. She was awarded the Cholmondelay Award for Poets and won the Queen’s Gold Medal for poetry.