Nurse!

[Hawkman]

I had a poem in my mind
but now it’s gone and I can’t find
the words expressive of my mood.
So now I merely sit and brood
upon unwanted thoughts of loss,
incumbent on this page of dross
to lift the spirit of the wise,
with whom I feel no morbid ties
and thus I scribble in the gloom
composing couplets full of doom,
to cast my demon in the flames,
unwilling yet to call him names.
So nameless and unloved he cries,
upon his master, lord of flies,
while I yet sit and watch his plight,
though in his fate I don’t delight
but relish freedom from his curse,
while someone once more calls out,
Nurse!
Never let it e'er be said
that I ain’t right inside my head,
for though I like to have a laugh,
of late my chuckle seems a scarf
to comfort, if not yet to stifle,
madness caught from sherry trifle.
Beware then creeping, addled verse,
for you'll just end up in a hearse
and like me beat upon the lid,
your cries for aid remaining hid
from any who might offer aid,
without requirement to be paid.
Consigned to graveyard, somewhat early,
not yet dead but feeling surly,
(understandably I think,
will no one offer me a drink?)
A double scotch is what I crave,
as not yet ready for my grave,
they have me cruelly boxed and shrouded
in a cell which seems quite crowded,
though the walls are nicely white
my jacket feels a bit too tight.

Your honour,
inhumation for the living
ain’t advice you should be giving,
it’s not as though I’m any threat,
so let me go without regret,
honest, honest, honest…

[PrinceMyshkin]

I can't quite tell the fun from the desperation - but how wonderfully you incorporate the two. Of course I was tempted to try a response in the rhyming couplets you manage so brilliantly here, but I think I'd need a double of that double-scotch you mention!

On the other hand, here's a mini-response:



And so you sit there, seemingly alone
and, seemingly, you moan and groan.
But when one’s having so much fun
can he be truly said to be done?
No, I think that of bitter vetch
you’ll manage at least one more kvetch!

[hillwalker]

I love the line 'madness caught from sherry trifle' and the suggestive 'my jacket feels a bit too tight.'.

I'd hate to end up like the Hawk -
I'll stick to yoghurt - with a fork.

Not in the same class as yours and Prince's response.

A very clever, witty piece of verse.

H

[Hawkman]

No more in anguish or in pain
from single malt I more than gain
sufficient lift as spirits soar
in golden stream, I let them pour
indulging in the liquid grain
I stay quite merry, barking sane.

Thanks my Prince for gift of verse.
So spontaneous and unrehearsed,
I therefore must reply in kind,
do you think B/V will mind?
or will he make remarks unkind
until it is banana time?

H

[Hawkman]

Stuck to yoghurt with a fork?
you'll need to stop the leaks with cork!

Thanks hillwalker for the thought
it means my efforts weren't for nought!

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

No more in anguish or in pain
from single malt I more than gain
sufficient lift as spirits soar
in golden stream, I let them pour
indulging in the liquid grain
I stay quite merry, barking sane.

Thanks my Prince for gift of verse.
So spontaneous and unrehearsed,
I therefore must reply in kind,
do you think B/V will mind?
or will he make remarks unkind
until it is banana time?

H



B|V! You’ve been called to witness
the Hawkian fire and my own hiss
in response. The man is “barking mad,”
he claims: which of us would not be glad
to join him in his doggy pound
and bark out, just as flipping sound?

[Bar22do]

In the shower of the preceding lines and verses it's hard to know what to relate to so I'll use the original ones of which I love the best:

"honest, honest, honest"

Size in poetry DOES lead to meaning! and is here a novelty. Kudos! Glory! and I got the meaning!

I'm rather terrified by the sight you enjoy of the frying demon, even if this frying is freeing!

"of the wise,
with whom I feel no morbid ties"

makes me wonder: do you feel healthy ties with the wise? for your ties with "the white" are rather tight (your jacket...)

Plenty of scotch, malt, WIT! and - yoghurt!!!! what a programme!

I'll have another deep breath (and a glass of wine) before I read it again. Which hopefully shows you my indisputable interest in your writing!

Warm regards and thumb up - Bar

[D. J. R. Caron]

It's a bit to take in, but it's wonderful. The stream of couplets with all the clever rhymes either underplay or elevate an intolerable sense of dread and sorrow. The two are so tightly woven, in fact, that I can't imagine one without the other. Frankly, I want to comment more exhaustively, but I think I should read it again first.

[MorpheusSandman]

I'd pretty much echo what Prince said here. I always like poetry and art that's both self-conscious about what's it doing while still working on the level of what it's doing. Here you comment both on the nature of writing about loss and about the loss and desperation itself.

[Hawkman]

Noble Bar,

The demon burning in my sight
Did not instil in me delight,
Although I found it liberating
To see the imp incinerating
I took no pleasure from his fate
But opened wide my muse’s gate.

Ah… wisdom! I am wise as a tree is wise: I know how to grow, to endure and how to be me. Is that enough, do you suppose?

As always I am happy to have entertained you. The diet of wit and malt I take credit for, but it was hillwalker who introduced the yoghurt. Enjoy your wine but pour a generous libation for the gods, whose playthings we all are;

Quem Jupiter vult perdere, dementat prius.

DJR,
thanks for dropping in and taking the time and trouble to comment on my descent into moderate madness! It was good fun to write, however, once consigned to the page by the author he has no control over how it will assault the eye of the reader, so I hope it hasn’t done any lasting damage :)

Morpheus,
I am immensely glad you appreciate the poem. In fact I sat down to write something else entirely but the witch of the blank page took over. The first four lines were written in an instant, though I had to think about the rest and keeping rhyming scheme and meter under control took a bit more effort.

As you’ve been away a while you will have missed some of the fun I’ve been having and to be fair it was B/V’s comments on some of the wilder adventures of my muse which ultimately inspired this piece.

Thank you all for your comments (and messages of support :))

Live and be well.

[dizzydoll]

What a truly remarkable tale Hawk. You sir, have a very deep soul, however as far as spirits are concerned I hope you dont drink them while at your PC. An excellent job.

:biggrin5:

[blank|verse]

Stealing my words without permission?! (Or word at any rate.) Is the standard response here to fly off into a hissy fit, Prince??

It's very well written, Hawkman, with some great moments on a familiar theme; although it's surprisingly sane, and I'm afraid you fail the Catch-22 test - your claim to be insane proving the opposite.

It rattles along, you've clearly got the metre down to a tee, and there are very few rhythmic errors, which means the bumps stick out more:

or you might end up in a hearse
Just 'you'll end up'?

Consigned to graveyard, somewhat early,
'to the graveyard' perhaps?

And I think "ere" in the line after 'NURSE!' should be "e'er", a contraction of 'ever', not meaning 'before' as in the first example.

Is it banana time now?

[Hawkman]

Hi B/V and thanks for pointing out the glitches which i will address in a moment. You're right about the e'er and I confess I thought I might have got that wrong.
It certainly is not banana time! You were much too nice...

By the way I have just got my hands on Simon Armitage's Gawain & the Green Knight, and also downloaded the middle English text as a pdf, but I'm having trouble remembering the scribe's abbreviations, Somewhere I have a guide to English secretarial hand but it's more attuned to 16th centuary legalese that middle English. A middle English Dictionary is proving more difficult to obtain.

Incidentally, I have also just bought and Old English dictionary and found the complete text of Beowulf, both pristine in old English and with an 11th century translation, so I'm keeping myself busy!

Thanks for your comments, Best H

Hi diz and thanks for your kind words. glad you liked it, Best, H

[Il Dante]

I chuckled at the demon bit,
Enjoyed your droll and darksome wit;
I laughed at all the morbid screamin'
Of your poor, pathetic demon,
For sitting here behind my desk
I found it Tarantinoesque.
But Hawk, why e'er a demon use?
I dare suggest you get a muse;
They'll render you far less abuse,
Historically of better use,
They render poesy far less daunting,
Are not quite as much giv'n to taunting.
But I confess that in this case:
Can't understand your choice of place,
For madhouse, graveyard, coffin, hearse--
Aren't prime locales for writing verse! :smilewinkgrin:

[Hawkman]

I find my verses quite inspired
by demons forcibly retired
but as I have already stated,
though I have my demons bated,
maiming imps for pure pleasure,
isn’t something done in leisure.
The demon I have so abused
I wasn’t using for a muse
but rather he was undermining
all of my poetic timing.
Lastly then I shall attack
the issue which so takes me back;
that you presume to criticise
the places where my poems rise,
for one who travelled all through Hell,
with Virgil guiding for a spell,
my choices would seem far less daunting
than all of Hades’ foot-paths haunting! ;)