And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!
- And did those feet, William Blake

torsdag 28. januar 2016

Wendy Cope's Manifesto



As you might know, I'm currently spending some research time in York, and if you've been reading this blog for some time you also know I have a very close relationship with that city. In several previous blogposts (here, here, and here) I've talked about my habit of buying books whenever I'm in York, and this is largely because York is home to many amazing little bookshops. True to form and tradition, the first day I arrived, while I was waiting for my appointment with the letting agency to sign my contract for the apartment I'm renting, I spent a long a carefully deliberating time at The Little Apple Bookshop on High Petergate, exploring their selection of novels and poetry. I left with two books of verse.

One of the books I bought was a collection by Wendy Cope, titled Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis (Faber & Faber 1997). I had been thinking of buying that book for some time already, as part of my aim of reading more books written by women. This particular collection contains several delightful poems, many of which showcase Wendy Cope's sharp sense for rhythm and rhyme, and her impressive ability to satirize other poets, a point perhaps made most expressly clear in the poem "Waste Land Limericks", which sums up T. S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" in a matter of two pages.

For this blogpost, I'm presenting one of the poems from Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis, called "Manifesto".


Manifesto

I'll work, for there's new purpose in my art -
I'll must all my talent, all my wit
And write the poems that will win your heart.

Pierced by a rusty allegoric dart,
What can I do but make the best of it?
I'll work, for there's new purpose in my art.

You're always on my mind when we're apart -
I can't afford to daydream, so I'll sit
And write the poems that will win your heart.

I am no beauty but I'm pretty smart
And I intend to be your favourite -
I'll work, for there's new purpose in my art.

And if some bloodless literary fart
Says that it's all too personal, I'll spit
And write the poems that will win your heart.

I feel terrific now I've made a start -
I'll have another book before I quiet.
I'll work, for there's new purpose in my art,
And write the poems that will win your heart.





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