For Tom
To trip him once he'd set them spinning,
And it wasn't rare for him to fall,
Coherence shattered. Kids who read
Him never care. The wildness,
The dizzy whirling, are what they most
Care about. The sober lines which plod
By later won't appeal to most of them.
They'll idolize their drunken Welshman.
Then, they'll turn away.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 79 times
Written on 2020-08-19 at 00:49
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Dylan Thomas
The words would whirl with sticksTo trip him once he'd set them spinning,
And it wasn't rare for him to fall,
Coherence shattered. Kids who read
Him never care. The wildness,
The dizzy whirling, are what they most
Care about. The sober lines which plod
By later won't appeal to most of them.
They'll idolize their drunken Welshman.
Then, they'll turn away.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 79 times
Written on 2020-08-19 at 00:49
| Texts |
![]() by Lawrence Beck Latest textsIllFor Isabelle Unsightly Not the Man He Was The Minutes Crawl Past |
