A poem by Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000)
by Alec Derwent Hope
To be put on the train and kissed and given my ticket,
Then the station slid backward, the shops and the neon lighting,
Reeling off in a drunken blur, with a whole pound note in my pocket
And the holiday packed with Perhaps. It used to be very exciting.
The present and past were enough. I did not mind having my back
To the engine. I sat like a spider and spun
Time backward out of my guts; or rather my eyes; and the track
Was a Now dwindling off to oblivion. I thought it was fun:
The telegraph poles slithered up in a sudden crescendo
As we sliced the hill and scattered its grazing sheep;
The days were a wheeling delirium that led without end to
Nights when we plunged into roaring tunnels of sleep.
But now I am tired of the train. I have learned that one tree
Is much like another, one hill the dead spit of the next
I have seen tailing off behind all the various types of country
Like a clock running down. I am bored and a little perplexed;
And weak with the effort of endless evacuation
Of the long monotonous Now, the repetitive, tidy
Officialdom of each siding, of each little station
Labelled Monday, Tuesday; and goodness ! what happened to; Friday ?
And the maddening way the other passengers alter:
The schoolgirl who goes to the Ladies’ comes back to her seat
A lollipop blonde who leads you on to assault her,
And you’ve just got her skirts round her waist and her pants round her feet
When you find yourself fumbling about the nightmare knees
Of a pink hippopotamus with a permanent wave
Who sends you for sandwiches and a couple of teas,
But by then she has whiskers, no teeth and one foot in the grave.
I have lost my faith that the ticket tells where we are going.
There are rumours the driver is mad; we are all being trucked
To the abattoirs somewhere; the signals are jammed and unknowing
We aim through the night full speed at a wrecked viaduct.
But I do not believe them. The future is rumour and drivel;
Only the past is assured. From the observation car
I stand looking back and watching the landscape shrivel,
Wondering where we are going and just where the hell we are,
Remembering how I planned to break the journey, to drive
My own car one day, to have choice in my hands and my foot upon power,
To see through the trumpet throat of vertiginous perspective
My urgent Now explode continually into flower,
To be the Eater of Time, a poet and not that sly
Anus of mind the historian. It was so simple and plain
To live by the sole, insatiable influx of the eye.
But something went wrong with the plan: I am still on the train.
A few random poems:
- Robert Burns: Address Of Beelzebub: To the Right Honourable the Earl of Breadalbane, President of the Right Honourable and Honourable the Highland Society, which met on the 23rd of May last at the Shakespeare, Covent Garden, to concert ways and means to frustrate the designs of five hundred Highlanders, who, as the Society were informed by Mr. M’Kenzie of Applecross, were so audacious as to attempt an escape from their lawful lords and masters whose property they were, by emigrating from the lands of Mr. Macdonald of Glengary to the wilds of Canada, in search of that fantastic thing-Liberty.
- Rising Early poem – Yang Wan-Li poems | Poetry Monster
- Ольга Берггольц – Детскосельский парк
- Power
- The Owl And The Lark poem – Alfred Austin
- These nights by Manushya Puthiran
- Robert Burns: The Deil’s Awa Wi’ The Exciseman:
- Couplet 1 poem – Amir Khusro poems | Poems and Poetry
- I have fallen into unconsciousness by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi
- Jerusalem Delivered – Book 03 – part 03 by Torquato Tasso
- Василий Жуковский – Был у меня товарищ
- Letters to the Otherworld
- Summer Moon
- Epistle to Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintry by Robert Burns
- Crapulous Impression
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Владимир Маяковский – Что значило “празднование новогоднее”?.. (РОСТА №672)
- Что такое хорошо и что такое плохо – Владимир Маяковский (Стих): Читать стихотворение на Poetry Monster
- Владимир Маяковский – Что такое II Интернационал?.. (РОСТА №133)
- Владимир Маяковский – Что сделать, чтоб Всероссийский съезд Советов… (РОСТА №662)
- Владимир Маяковский – Что может быть старей кустарей?.. (РОСТА №573)
- Владимир Маяковский – Что делать?.. (РОСТА №193)
- Владимир Маяковский – Что делать, чтоб сытому быть?.. (РОСТА №219)
- Владимир Маяковский – Что делать
- Владимир Маяковский – Чехарда в палате… (РОСТА №881)
- Владимир Маяковский – Четвертый вывоз
- Владимир Маяковский – Чемпионат всемирной классовой борьбы
- Владимир Маяковский – Чем отличается Красная Армия от царской?.. (РОСТА №559)
- Владимир Маяковский – Чье рождество
- Владимир Маяковский – Частушки (Милкой мне в подарок бурка…)
- Владимир Маяковский – Частушки
- Владимир Маяковский – Чаеуправление (реклама)
- Владимир Маяковский – Бюрократиада
- Владимир Маяковский – Было с белым много дел… (Главполитпросвет №44)
- Владимир Маяковский – Был без работы буржуям пир… (Главполитпросвет №24)
- Владимир Маяковский – Буржуй, прощайся с приятными деньками
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Alec Derwent-Hope (1907–2000) was an Australian poet and essayist known for his satirical slant. He was also a critic, teacher and academic.