My creative writing prof in college asked us to choose a poem to share (I hate that word--probably because I have a younger brother and I DIDN'T LIKE TO SHARE) with the class. I chose this one. He was a little taken aback and wanted to know what made me choose it. I just like the damn poem, I told him.
Not Waving But Drowning
by Stevie Smith
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Not Waving But Drowning
by Stevie Smith
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
3 comments:
Sad, but I can identify with that poem. It's a good choice I reckon. K xx
I can identify with this one too. I'm glad that my toes touched bottom finally.
One of my personal favorites...
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