Another poem..........

[Partisan]

This be the verse.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

I thought i'd post this as you were so nice about the last one.

p.

[margaret]

and what date in April 1971 do you think this was written , P ?

"interesting, but futile" ...........

[Teratogen]

hahaha. sounds like bukowski, if bukowski rhymed.

[mickey_one]

I have never been sure that this poem deserves its hero-status. Apart from the first line, it's pretty much doggerel.

Some years ago there was a competition in the New Statesman for misheard first lines in famous verse. One of the winners declared that Phillip Larkin had actually written "they tuck you up, your mum and dad".

[margaret]

I couldn't possibly comment on the merits of this actual poem. My point was only to draw attention to the fact that p. appeared to be passing it off as one of own, as with his other recent entry here, Mr Bleaney. Or maybe he was just playing games

[Partisan]

I agree that it is not Larkin's best, but i figured it was the most likely to be spotted after Mr Bleaney had 'survived' over night. As for the misheard line you may find this of interest.

This Be The Worst
By Adrian Mitchell
(after hearing that some sweet innocent
thought that Philip Larkin had written "they tuck you up, your Mum and Dad")

They tuck you up, your Mum and Dad
They read you Peter Rabbit, too.
They give you all the treats they had
And add some extra, just for you.

They were tucked up when they were small,
(Pink perfume, blue tobacco-smoke),
By those whose kiss healed any fall,
Whose laughter doubled any joke.

Man hands on happiness to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
So love your parents all you can
And have some cheerful kids yourself.

Margaret, i do not believe it futile to brin Larkin to people's attention. If i had simply posted that i thought he was good do you think anyone would have bothered to read any?

p.

[margaret]

to explain - "interesting, but futile", is the start of the first line of another poem by Philip Larkin, titled A Writer. I just happen to have a copy of his Collected Poems.

A Writer by Philip Larkin

"Interesting, but futile," said his diary,
Where day by day his movements were recorded
And nothing but his loves received inquiry;
He knew, of course, no actions were rewarded,
There were no prizes: though the eye could see
Wide beauty in a motion or a pause,
It need expect no lasting salary
Beyond the bowels' momentary applause.

He lived for years and never was surprised:
A member of his foolish, lying race
Explained away their vices: realised
It was a gift that he possessed alone:
To look the world directly in the face;
The face he did not see to be his own.


Perhaps this thread should belong in the section for Other Poetry

margaret