Today in English writing we seldom speak (Pastiche)

Today in English writing we seldom speak

To-day in English writing we seldom speak. Yesterday,

the primroses were over. And to-morrow morning,

Ted Hugh's house has been far out at sea all night. But to-day

in English writing we seldom speak. Scccchhhh -

The bullet from Iraq knocks the wind out of the air above his shoulder

‘cause today we seldom speak.

This is our first foe, we stare ourselves blind and blink

as the white drips its black stanzas, we sigh through it,

When Chaucer gives the serpent Satanas its hisssss -

the Afghan bullets keep coming, and then one just hits

and he drops like a leaf of the book that you only skim

‘cause this is our first foe, the hiss.

This is April the cruellest month. And now it

is autumn and the falling fruit in The Ship of Death.

Langston Hughes gives us his word and it’s ‘thump’

Which in your case, you don’t get, it’s just him

who didn’t see it, but heard as he fell, just that sound

that in your case you just didn’t get.

And this - recognize? – the rhythm and the rhyme?

you have done it again (but not only) every year in ten,

send someone to take a foreign bullet – whilst you bang on about

Elliot, Adams, Lawrence, Hughes, Chaucer and Plath – bang bang bang

The shelling goes on folding human origami - 'cause inertia has hit

he did recognize the rhythm - this was it!

This was it!

This was our silence, schh and Satanas’ hiss

like bullets snarling through the air – YOU GET IT?

Our eyes - culprits - our fingers on the trigger

This was his body hitting the ground - ‘thump’

Do I have to spell it out some more?

‘cause today in English writing we seldom speak.

Reference material:

L.1 “Today in English writing we seldom speak” T.S. Elliot from Tradition and the Individual talent.

L1 & 2 “Yesterday, the primroses were over.” Richard Adams from Watership Down.

L 3 “This house has been far out at sea all night.” Ted Hughes from Wind

L 7 “ Our first foe, the serpent Satanas.” Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury tales, The Prioress’ Tale.

L13 “April is the cruellest month”. T.S. Elliott, The Wasteland.

L14 “Thump, thump, thump.” Langston Hughes, The Weary Blues

L15 “And this is autumn and the falling fruit.” D.H. Lawrence, The Ship of Death.

L20 “I have done it again, every year in ten.” Sylvia Plath, Lady Lazarus.