Saturday, 29 October 2016

Poetry Corner

Image result for underwear + washing line

A friend sent me the following poem about Underwear by the American writer, painter and liberal activist Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

Which just goes to show that some people have the talent to make even the most mundane subject matter come alive. 



Related Poem Content Details

I didn’t get much sleep last night 
thinking about underwear 
Have you ever stopped to consider   
underwear in the abstract   
When you really dig into it 
some shocking problems are raised   
Underwear is something   
we all have to deal with   
Everyone wears 
some kind of underwear 
The Pope wears underwear I hope 
The Governor of Louisiana   
wears underwear 
I saw him on TV 
He must have had tight underwear 
He squirmed a lot 
Underwear can really get you in a bind 
You have seen the underwear ads 
for men and women 
so alike but so different 
Women’s underwear holds things up 
Men’s underwear holds things down   
Underwear is one thing   
men and women have in common   
Underwear is all we have between us 
You have seen the three-color pictures 
with crotches encircled 
to show the areas of extra strength 
and three-way stretch 
promising full freedom of action 
Don’t be deceived 
It’s all based on the two-party system 
which doesn’t allow much freedom of choice   
the way things are set up   
America in its Underwear 
struggles thru the night 
Underwear controls everything in the end   
Take foundation garments for instance   
They are really fascist forms 
of underground government 
making people believe 
something but the truth 
telling you what you can or can’t do   
Did you ever try to get around a girdle   
Perhaps Non-Violent Action 
is the only answer 
Did Gandhi wear a girdle? 
Did Lady Macbeth wear a girdle? 
Was that why Macbeth murdered sleep?   
And that spot she was always rubbing— 
Was it really in her underwear? 
Modern anglosaxon ladies 
must have huge guilt complexes 
always washing and washing and washing   
Out damned spot 
Underwear with spots very suspicious   
Underwear with bulges very shocking   
Underwear on clothesline a great flag of freedom   
Someone has escaped his Underwear   
May be naked somewhere 
But don’t worry 
Everybody’s still hung up in it 
There won’t be no real revolution 
And poetry still the underwear of the soul   
And underwear still covering 
a multitude of faults 
in the geological sense— 
strange sedimentary stones, inscrutable cracks!   
If I were you I’d keep aside 
an oversize pair of winter underwear   
Do not go naked into that good night   
And in the meantime 
keep calm and warm and dry 
No use stirring ourselves up prematurely   
‘over Nothing’ 
Move forward with dignity 
hand in vest 
Don’t get emotional 
And death shall have no dominion   
There’s plenty of time my darling 
Are we not still young and easy 
Don’t shout