Tag Archives: Wendy Cope

Because time.

humor, poetry, time, , ,

More than ten years ago I first posted this poem, after my late husband and I had been laughing over Cope’s poetry while drinking our morning coffee. 

Now, I’m amused, and wondering, at how fast January has gone by. Because time, and the unstilled wheel still turning. We may as well keep a sense of humor about it!

A NURSERY RHYME
as it might have been written 

by T.S. Eliot

Because time will not run backwards
Because time
Because time will not run
                                         Hickory dickory
In the last minute of the first hour
I saw the mouse ascend the ancient timepiece,
Claws whispering like wind in dry hyacinths.
One o’clock,
The street lamp said,
‘Remark the mouse that races towards the carpet.’
And the unstilled wheel still turning
                                                          Hickory dickory
                                                          Hickory dickory

dock

— Wendy Cope             

Some men never think of it.

poetry, , ,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FLOWERS

Some men never think of it.
You did. You’d come along
And say you’d nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong. The shop was closed. Or you had doubts –
The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought
I might not want your flowers. It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.

-Wendy Cope

vegetable spirits

poetry

I don’t have all the same reasons as Wendy Cope to appreciate a quiet life, but I do share her contentment with a garden that is growing and someone to stay home with. And you can call me a happy cabbage if you want to.

Being Boring
‘May you live in interesting times.’ Chinese curse

If you ask me ‘What’s new?’, I have nothing to say
Except that the garden is growing.
I had a slight cold but it’s better today.
I’m content with the way things are going.
Yes, he is the same as he usually is,
Still eating and sleeping and snoring.
I get on with my work. He gets on with his.
I know this is all very boring.

There was drama enough in my turbulent past:
Tears and passion – I’ve used up a tankful.
No news is good news, and long may it last.
If nothing much happens, I’m thankful.
A happier cabbage you never did see,
My vegetable spirits are soaring.
If you’re after excitement, steer well clear of me.
I want to go on being boring.

I don’t go to parties. Well, what are they for,
If you don’t need to find a new lover?
You drink and you listen and drink a bit more
And you take the next day to recover.
Someone to stay home with was all my desire
And, now that I’ve found a safe mooring,
I’ve just one ambition in life: I aspire
To go on and on being boring.

–Wendy Cope

In the last minute of the first hour.

humor, poetry, time, ,

My man and I laughed out loud over coffee and Wendy Cope’s poems this morning. I’ve had time and memory on my mind lately so I especially appreciated a lighthearted treatment of the subject in this one:

A Nursery Rhyme
as it might have been written 
by T.S. Eliot

 

Because time will not run backwards
Because time
Because time will not run
                                         Hickory dickory
In the last minute of the first hour
I saw the mouse ascend the ancient timepiece,
Claws whispering like wind in dry hyacinths.
One o’clock,
The street lamp said,
‘Remark the mouse that races towards the carpet.’
And the unstilled wheel still turning
                                                          Hickory dickory
                                                          Hickory dickory

dock

— Wendy Cope