In keeping with the A.E. Housman theme I seem to have established between this week and last, I have updated "When I was One-and-Twenty," our founder's signature poem, for the present age.
I hope you don't mind.
Now That I’m One-And-Forty
Now that I’m one-and-forty,
I look at love this way:
As t-shirts, socks, and underwear
No longer white but gray;
I look at life like wine
Glistening in my glass,
Turning to vinegar.
Things happen now so fast.
When I was one-and-twenty,
I studied you one night;
I had a test to pass,
But failure seemed all right.
Some light fell on your shoulder,
Some fell on your cock,
Most fell on the floor.
The light came from a clock.
I watched the numbers change
From twenty-one to two;
I watched until two-forty-one,
Then fell asleep. Like you.
5 comments:
A bit more explicit that dear old Housman, Eric, but neat pastiche. Bravo. Hope you had a fine Easter.
Hi Eshu!
Thanks. I recently re-read The Invention of Love and I have been feeling very Housmany lately. It is a lovely play. I saw it twice here in New York.
I think Housman comes off fairly well in it, really. (Better than Wilde in some ways, just between you and me...)
Thought of you, saw a book of poetry by Housman with picture of Shropshire in the past--ah, sweet nostalgia!
You haven't posted for a long time: perhaps you are having a break (as I did). Hope this is the reason and you are okay. Kind wishes.
Welcome back from your holiday in the Orient.
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