Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
connecthookPoems
Dylan Thomas, drunk-ass poet, uncorked nouns, imbibed the verb downed six pints and thought about it sitting unsteadily on the curb: “Winds of word unleashed in drink will fill to the full my poem’s sails… though it may totter on the brink, my drunken boat defies the gales.” Floating on wreckage to distant shores, our ***** bard beheld the deep where whales spout forth their lyric stores while the inebriate muses weep. This postwar lush and lyrical fad, was the biggest pint in the bar called Wales. While not the worst, his verse was bad… (but better after seven ales).
0
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
Welsh Revival
Dylan Thomas, drunk-ass poet, uncorked nouns, imbibed the verb downed six pints and thought about it sitting unsteadily on the curb: “Winds of word unleashed in drink will fill to the full my poem’s sails… though it may totter on the brink, my drunken boat defies the gales.” Floating on wreckage to distant shores, our ***** bard beheld the deep where whales spout forth their lyric stores while the inebriate muses weep. This postwar lush and lyrical fad, was the biggest pint in the bar called Wales. While not the worst, his verse was bad… (but better after seven ales).
I wrote this after perusing A Child’s Christmas in Wales, which was a big yawn and, to me, embarrassingly bad poetry. But some of Thomas’ early verse is beautiful (in the eye of this beholder). So I ALMOST feel mean for scrawling this little ditty.
#poetry#thomas#dylan#welsh
connecthook
Written by
connecthook
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem