There's no money in poetry, but then there's no poetry in money, either. ~Robert Graves, 1962 interview on BBC-TV, based on a very similar statement he overheard around 1955Therefore, that's no reason for you not to send in your entry for the normblog poets poll. Now come on, people, you're not going to put me through the business of having to cajole and even entreat again, are you? The flow of entries has become worse than sluggish. It's simple - you just email me your three favourite poets. Emulate Emily!
By way of encouragement, and courtesy of Andrew West and Lorna C respectively, these two poems...
Upon Westminster Bridge (by William Wordsworth)
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Theory (by Dorothy Parker)
Into love and out again,
Thus I went, and thus I go.
Spare your voice, and hold your pen-
Well and bitterly I know
All the songs were ever sung,
All the words were ever said;
Could it be, when I was young,
Some one dropped me on my head?
