original poem – Page 58 – don't confuse the narrator

a lack of biscuits

When I tweeted that my 888th blog post featured poetry and hyacinths, I was reminded of the quotation:

Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.

but I couldn’t remember who said it.

Knowing I’d kept it as one of a whole list of poetry-associated quotations, I searched my computer for hyacinths.

It turns out it was Carl Sandburg, though further investigation online suggests he may actually have used the subtly different phrase:

poetry is the achievement of the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.

The search for hyacinths also turned up the forgotten draft of a poem.
Continue reading “a lack of biscuits”

not by bread alone

If of thy worldly goods thou art bereft
and of the store two loaves alone are left,
sell one and with the dole
buy hyacinths to feed the soul.

I seem to have known that verse all my life, and always associated it with the phrase “Man shall not live by bread alone.” Of course the latter is from the Bible; the verse, it seems, is by Rumi. Presumably the original wasn’t written in English, which would account for the variations I found when I went looking to see where it came from.
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baa, humbug

Alternatively, Happy (lunar) New Year.

And a fragment of a poem, which at least has sheep tracks if not the animals themselves:

   I’ve walked the sheeptracks of your dreams
in search of unicorns, but they have fled.
   Now they graze where honey flows in streams
       through pillowing hills.

Though perhaps it should be goats not sheep in the photo, and Chinese dragons not unicorns in the poem.

I could care less

This week I had to fill in a form to register for a new doctor. Last time I registered was when I returned to the UK after 25 years living abroad; that was a fairly painless process, the only confusion being when they asked for my National Health number and I gave one in a format that they stopped using last century.

This time, although I had the right format number, I had to fill in a ten page questionnaire with all sorts of slightly bizarre questions. The one that caught my attention most was:

If someone cares for you, what is their name and telephone number?

Continue reading “I could care less”

no poetry

Traffic delays possible - road warning sign

There’s no poetry
in traffic jams:
we edge forward
foot by foot. Caught
behind a juggernaut
with no opportunity
to scan ahead for a turn,
we’re stressing
in the fast lane,
going oh
so
slow,
syncopated with
the nearside flow;
we can’t even
reverse.