I know plenty of people who don't like poetry. It's understandable - it's not like settling down with a novel or listening to a brilliant song. For various reasons it's seen as being quite inaccessible. But can anyone read this...
"I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled."
...and not swoon? You can, and should, read T.S Eliot's masterpiece in its entirety
here. I know i've linked to it before but I find it irresistible.
4 comments:
Hi Kate, we've never met, but I am Lindsay's friend, and a few months back I stumbled into your blog via McPhee's own hell in a handbasket. I've been reading yours ever since. Firstly, you’re hilarious, and the ease with which you write so beautifully makes me green with. But the reason I'm commenting now is because I was, until about half an hour ago, having a thoroughly miserable day at work. Then I read a post of yours, and found myself at Eliot's masterpiece, which I haven't read in years. I’d forgotten how it used to make me feel. And now, I am awash with calm. I feel quieter, and better about the world. So thanks! Cara x
Aw thanks Lindsay's-friend-Cara. Poetry CAN improve the world! Now reading your message has perked me up no end. Jesus, it's like that shithouse movie Pay it Forward or something...
Thank god neither of us look like Haley Joel Osment...
Well speak for yourself. I have a bowl on my head right now am going for a fetching new 'do. Step two is making myself a)ten years younger and b)incredibly creepy.
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