Blimey! I cannot whittle down my list to ten poets, just yet. I cannot even figure whether certain pop-stars can be counted as modern poets. My main man, Mr Weller, has written some truly great lyrics, but is he a poet? 'You Do Something To Me' is superb, 'A Town Called Malice' is pretty too, as is 'Pretty Green'. Old Paul has a way with words! And John Lee Hooker has some great expressions and gradations of blue. Then there is the noise and pomp of the Zeppelin - to which I am currently communing.
Ther's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold...
I have previously mentioned my favourites: Gerard Manley Hopkins, Jesuit of this parish; Thomas Stearns Eliot, about whom more later; Shelley, Byron and Keats; Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Sweet William, Chaucer, John Donne and the stupendous Blake.
Can I add Paul Weller to this selection? A lot of people like Ray Davies, too. Never liked Morrisey myself, and even less so since he ponced offstage after two songs the other night. Perhaps Jim Morrison? All are probably a bit better than Andrew Motion. I am secretly beginning to like Betjeman. Not forgetting Belloc and Wendy Cope, both of whom have enormous fun in composing. And the epitome of the Greek dog, Alexander Pope, who makes even me sound civilised.
Eliot was a little bit too clever, even for me. Eclecticism gave his work some real challenges, but I still think he is worth the effort. TS Eliot would be my number one, I think, but Hopkins and Blake push him very close. You never know when someone is going to let you down, though:
O the moon shone bright on Mrs Porter
And on her daughter
They wash their feet in soda water
I reckon my daughter could write as well, probably even Number Two Son.
By the way, the title is Eliot too. I am not being rude, just for a change!
No comments:
Post a Comment