Dylan Thomas, drunk-ass poet,
uncorked nouns, imbibed the verb;
downed six pints and thought about it
sitting unsteadily on the curb.
Winds of word unleashed in drink
filled up to the full the poet’s sails . . .
although it tottered on the brink,
his drunken boat defied the gales.
Floating on wreckage to distant shores,
our boozy bard beheld the deep;
where whales spout forth their lyric stores
while the inebriate muses weep.
This postwar lush and lyrical fad,
was the biggest pint in the bar called Wales.
While not the worst, his verse was bad…
(but better after seven ales).
Haven’t read, desire to read or have the time to read Dylan Thomas so how can I (or should I) comment? So let’s just quote from Paul Simon’s “A Simple Desultory Philippic”:
“…I know a man’s brain’s so small
He couldn’t think of nothing at all
Not the same as you or me
He doesn’t dig poetry
He’s so unhip when you say Dylan
He thinks you’re talking about Dylan Thomas
Whoever he was, the man ain’t got no culture
But it’s alright, ma, everybody must get stoned…”
Oh well…pass another Guinness…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dave – I almost posted the video of that very song. The lyric from “A Simple Desultory Philippic” insinuated itself into my head as well. Great song and verse !
(I been Phil Spectored – resurrected…♪♫♫ – Rolling Stoned & Beatled til’ I’m BLIND !)
LikeLike
Oh, I absolutely love this one! You had me laughing out loud with the first stanza. Having never been a Dylan Thomas fan, I feel you have herein justified my inclination. Bravo, bravo!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks WB. There are certain revered poets who leave me cold. Whether the problem lies with their verse or my soul is debatable – but (dare I say?) they BORE me!
LikeLike