Friday Poetry Corner

[The Late, Great JC]

One man in a thousand, Solomon says,
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it's worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth man will stand your friend
With the whole round world agin' you.

'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding for 'ee.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em go
By your looks, or your acts, or your glory.
But if he finds you and you find him.
The rest of the world don't matter;
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim
With you in any water.

You can use his purse with no more talk
Than he uses yours for his spendings,
And laugh and meet in your daily walk
As though there had been no lendings.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em call
For silver and gold in their dealings;
But the Thousandth Man he's worth 'em all,
Because you can show him your feelings.

His wrong's your wrong, and his right's your right,
In season or out of season.
Stand up and back it in all men's sight --
With that for your only reason!
Nine hundred and ninety-nine can't bide
The shame or mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the gallows-foot -- and after!

[AlfredJPruffock]

Just think ...

Aye JG

Good to see a bit of WH on the poetry forum , I remember publishing this one shortly before the Iraq War (or have NL banned all discussion of this topic?)

I think the poems title is Epitaph for a Tyrant .

I found the line ... When he cried little children died in the streets ... reminded me of a documentary on French TV which showed the most ghastly images of Iraqi childrens charred corpses from allied bombs that went astray.

Right, moving on , it all ends in Death you know, and a wee poem from Rober Service titled ... Just Think !


Just think! some night the stars will gleam

Upon a cold, grey stone,
And trace a name with silver beam,
And lo! 'twill be your own.

That night is speeding on to greet
Your epitaphic rhyme.

Your life is but a little beat
Within the heart of Time.

A little gain, a little pain,
A laugh, lest you may moan;

A little blame, a little fame,
A star-gleam on a stone.

[John Galt]

One of the few poems I memorised from school Alf - found it very powerful - think it was written about Hitler - couldn't swear to it though

[AlfredJPruffock]

One of the few poems I memorised from school Alf - found it very powerful - think it was written about Hitler - couldn't swear to it though

Yes indeed JG , it was written about Hitler, WH Auden wrote much thematic poetry concerning WW2.


Thoughts of Alifes death disturbed him like the distant sound of thunder at a picnic on a summers afternoon.

[The Late, Great JC]

Yes indeed JG , it was written about Hitler, WH Auden wrote much thematic poetry concerning WW2.


Thoughts of Alifes death disturbed him like the distant sound of thunder at a picnic on a summers afternoon.

Don't worry about Death Alfie, it's a doddle! Like falling off a log really. Ok, like falling off a log that's quite high up...

[AlfredJPruffock]

Don't worry about Death Alfie, it's a doddle! Like falling off a log really. Ok, like falling off a log that's quite high up...

Death is the easy part in this life, its the hell served for breakfast in between the cradle and the graveyard thats the pain.


He not busy being born is busy dying.

Bob Dylan

And another quote from Mr Zimmerman


What's money? A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do.

Bob Dylan
US singer & songwriter (1941 - )

[ratewhore]

and now for something more lightweight

I seen you last night, you were drinkin' in the pub,
You were drinkin' with that bird you tried to chat up in the nightclub,
Can't say her name but she's got a gammy eye,
And I'm feeling near her violence when I have to walk on by,
You can't deny it, it's something you can't miss,
That bird thats hangin' out with you is mad like cats p1ss,
Like bread and jam or a knife drawn with butter,
Face it son, your missus is a nutter!

Oh son, your missus is a nutter!
Oh son, your missus is a nutter!
Oh son, your missus is a nutter!
Leave her at home! Your missus is a nutter!

I never seen a woman make a skinhead cry,
And I never seen a woman tryin' to snap an arm with a thigh,
Now I have and its just across the pub,
And the worst thing is,
she's taking you out for a rub,
You don’t deserve it, you know it’s a fact,
But mix her up with booze you gotta suicide pact,
2 tequilas and 4 vodka mules,
She's a wrecking ball and her fists are the tools.

Binge drinking, binge drinking tried keeping up with your missus,
What was I thinking?
She looks like Caprice,
But it’s a shock to see her wrestling 2 police,
With one in a headlock!
Fighting with bouncers and flashing her bits,
After too flamin’ sambucas she dont care who she hits,
Waking up on Sunday morning with bruises and cuts,
Face it son, your missus is nuts!

Your missus was looking at my missus,
So my missus, sparked out your missus,
Your missus was looking at my missus,
So my missus, sparked out your missus,


It was last week, what really got me thinking,
About how your missus goes nuts when we go drinking,
Last week, she ended up on a binge, she got off her tits,
And showed the bouncers her minge,
And it’s the threat of grievous bodily harm,
She needs to keep calm,
And use her charm,
I used to think it was funny,
It made me laugh,
When she threw the ash trays at the bar staff.


Stabbed a man with a comb, just to get a drink,
Theres no logic, just stand there

Drink, fight, drink, fight, drink

She grabs your throat, and stares into your eyes,
Have you ever seen a woman kill a man with her thighs?

Oh son, your missus is trouble,
Everytime you have a drink she has a double,
Is she on pukkas?
I think shes tripping?
Stop lookin' at me love it's water what I'm sippin'.

[steve'O]

Welsh hip-hop is alive and well isn'it........