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FOUR FROM LIVERPOOL ....
one of four : ...
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WHAT MY LADY DID
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Roger McGough, Liverpool poet
1937-
I asked my lady what she did
..She gave me a silver flute and smiled.
A musician I guessed, yes that would explain
..Her temperament so wild.
I asked my lady what she did
..She gave me a comb inlaid with pearl.
A hairdresser I guessed, yes that would explain
..Each soft and billowy curl.
I asked my lady what she did
..She gave me a skein of wool and left.
A weaver I guessed, yes that would explain
..Her fingers long and deft.
I asked my lady what she did
..She gave me a slipper trimmed with lace.
A dancer I guessed, yes that would explain
..Her suppleness and grace.
I asked my lady what she did
..She gave me a painting not yet dry.
A painter I guessed, yes that would explain
..The steadiness of her eye.
I asked my lady what she did
..She gave me a fountain pen of gold.
A poet I guessed, yes that would explain
..The strange stories that she told.
I asked my lady what she did
..She told me -- and oh, the grief!
I should have guessed, she's under arrest
..My lady was a thief!
--oOo--
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two of four : ...
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HESITANT
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Brian Patten, Liverpool poet
He sees beyond her face another face.
It is the one he wants.
He stares at it in amazement;
There is nothing anywhere quite like it.
There is nothing else that's wanted.
She sees beyond his face another face.
It stares back at her in amazement.
She stares back, equally amazed.
Just why, she can't quite answer.
She simply wants it.
These faces have been waiting now
A long time to be introduced.
If only the faces in front of the faces
Would do something about it.
--oOo--
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three of four : ...
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ANY PRINCE TO ANY PRINCESS
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Adrian Henri, Liverpool Poet
1932-2000
('from the Loveless Motel', 1980)
August is coming
and the goose, I'm afraid,
is getting fat.
There have been
no golden eggs for some months now.
Straw has fallen well below market price
despite my frantic spinning
and the sedge is,
as you rightly point out,
withered.
I can't imagine how the pea
got under your mattress. I apologise
humbly. The chambermaid has, of course,
been sacked. As has the frog footman.
I understand that, during my recent fact-finding tour of the Golden River,
despite your nightly unavailing efforts,
he remained obstinately
froggish.
I hope that the Three Wishes granted by the
General Assembly
will go some way towards redressing
this unfortunate recent sequence of events.
The fall in output from the shoe factory, for example:
No-one could have foreseen the work-to-rule
by the National Union of Elves. Not to mention the fact
That the court has been fast asleep
For the last six and a half years.
The matter of the poisoned apple has been taken up
by the Board of Trade: I think I can assure you
the incident will not be
repeated.
I can quite understand, in the cirumstances,
your reluctance to let down
your golden tresses. However
I feel I must point out
that the weather isn't getting any better
and I already have a nasty chill
from waiting at the base
of the White Tower. You must see
the absurdity of the situation.
Some of the courtiers are beginning to talk,
not to mention the humble villagers.
It's been three weeks now, and not even
a word.
Princess,
a cold, black wind
howls through our empty palace.
dead leaves litter the bedchamber;
the mirror on the wall hasn't said a thing
since you left. I can only ask,
bearing all this in mind,
that you think again,
let down your hair,
reconsider. .
--oOo--
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four of four : ...
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THE WAY THINGS ARE
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Roger McGough, Liverpool Poet
1937-
No, the candle is not crying, it cannot feel pain.
Even telescopes, like the rest of us, grow bored.
Bubblegum will not make the hair soft and shiny.
The duller the imagination, the faster the car,
I am your father and this is the way things are.
When the sky is looking the other way,
do not enter the forest. No, the wind
is not caused by the rushing of clouds.
An excuse is as good a reason as any.
A lighthouse, launched, will not go far,
I am your father and this is the way things are.
No, old people do not walk slowly
because they have plenty of time.
Gardening books when buried will not flower.
Though lightly worn, a crown may leave a scar,
I am your father and this is the way things are.
No, the red woolly hat has not been
put on the railing to keep it warm.
When one glove is missing, both are lost.
Today's craft fair is tomorrow's car boot sale.
The guitarist gently weeps, not the guitar,
I am your father and this is the way things are.
Pebbles work best without batteries.
The deckchair will fail as a unit of currency.
Even though your shadow is shortening
it does not mean you are growing smaller.
Moonbeams, sadly, will not survive in a jar,
I am your father and this is the way things are.
For centuries the bullet remained quietly confident
that the gun would be invented.
A drowning surrealist will not appreciate
the concrete lifebelt.
No guarantee my last goodbye is au revoir,
I am your father and this is the way things are.
Do not become a prison-officer unless you know
what you are letting someone else in for.
The thrill of being a shower curtain will soon pall.
No trusting hand awaits the falling star,
I am your father, and I am sorry,
but this is the way things are.
--oOo--
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PS. Four from Liverpool, did I say? I should have said "Four poems from the Liverpool Poets"!
Pip Torok