14 October 2006

Weekend poem No 6

For a change, a relatively modern poem. Philip Larkin is the poet. While everyone knows the first line or two, they may be less familiar with the rest. Not a happy poem.
This Be The Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

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