By Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953 Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into… Continue reading Do not go gentle into that good night
Category: Poetry
Before the Anaesthetic, or A Real Fright
By John Betjeman Intolerably sad, profound St. Giles's bells are ringing round, They bring the slanting summer rain To tap the chestnut boughs again Whose shadowy cave of rainy leaves The gusty belfry-song receives. Intolerably sad and true, Victorian red and jewel blue, The mellow bells are ringing round And charge the evening light with… Continue reading Before the Anaesthetic, or A Real Fright
Red Glove
A poem I wrote, after seeing a red glove left on the ground in the commuting rush: Little is more miserable than this dropped glove Fingers of red wool, a pavement splatter Soon, buried in snow, to rot in spring Then carried off, swept up in litter Dragged from a pocket with some frantic seeking… Continue reading Red Glove
Goodbye Stranger
From BBC Global Perspective Documentary Archive: Every year up to 20 people die completely alone in Amsterdam. There are no friends or family to prepare their funeral or mourn over the body. Sometimes these people are illegal migrants, drug mules, or simply people who for one reason or another, cut off all social contacts. A… Continue reading Goodbye Stranger
Fourteen Twenty 