An Up-and-Coming Poet
Bernard Melchior doesn’t know anything about existentialism (or flexistentialism), but he knows what he likes. He wrote this poem for me (and you, by extension), and suggested I start a section for up-and-coming poets, which this post is the first member of.
Biography: Bernard is from the Great Britain, and he has invented all sorts of useful things, like towers to sit on while judging people, and airs of Suspicion. In addition to poetry, he writes things like children’s books, boring speeches, and letters of complaint.
I present to you:
Dilemma
Dedicated to William Blake
by Bernard R MelchiorO Iris Bold, O Iris Bold.
How could you serve me so?
She shot me in the hand, you know.
You don’t like that, I’m told.
Bernard has a daughter
It’s just a rumour.
You don’t need to humour
Me.
I won’t believe it til we’ve caught ‘er.
What do you think? Will he make it big and sell millions? Would anyone like to purchase a glistening white tower from him that you can sit on while judging people? You be the judge. Bernard’s judge.
Wednesday 17 Jan 2007 | Sam | Up-and-coming Poets
I think the real question here is “Will he have too much money to stuff in his normal sized pockets, and if so, can he also invent massive pocketed pants for the purpose of stuffing all of his poetry money into?”
I certainly enjoyed it. Will Bernard (can I call him Bernie?) write me a pretty poem?
Dear Greg,
You certainly may call me Bernie if you wish, but I prefer “Ber”. Funny you should say that about the large-pocketed trousers. I have a favourite pair of Harlequin Plus Fours, perhaps they would do.
I will write you a poem in the near future, if you do not object to my using it in a forthcoming anthology of work: “Not Just a Hatstand: Taking the Proverbial Michael”. This will retail at £14.99.
All the best,
Ber
xc
Dear Sam (although we have yet to be formally introduced I trust that you will excuse the unintentionally affectionate introduction. Although I do not doubt that you are considered dear indeed to those who know you).
Anyway.
I am delighted to see some of Ber’s work featured in these pages, as I am not entirely unfamiliar with the old rascal’s outpourings (the words “Gardy” and “Loo”, juxtaposed, spring to mind). However, I am not without visits from the Muse myself, and wonder whether you might consider the following for inclusion? I call it: “The Sea” and it goes like this (a-one, a-two, a-one-two-three-four…):
The Sea
I think the Sea
Should come to me,
For when I stay
On holiday
It’s always cold
(And I am old).
But when I’m here
The sky is clear;
The sun is out
And people shout
And have such fun
beneath said sun.
So that is why
I think the sky
Is better here
In Haslemere.
There’s not much sand,
But I can stand
To do without,
And would not pout
If, once, the Sea
Would come to me.
I thank you.
WW
William, your wish is my belated command.