No literary stylist, he,
at least in dashed-off letters.
Suggest he studies carefully
his forbears and his betters.
*[this refers to some response to a letter to a computer magazine,
I think, in which a subsequent correspondent wrote.
"Turning now to the letter from Dai Lowe (no literary stylist, he) …"]
Mrs Casanova's Lament
I'm not sure if I miss him
Now he's dead and gone
His last words were, "I love you"
But he added, "Pass it on."
The Rime of the Ageing Gourmet
It is an ancient gourmet and he goes among the Swiss
"Show me, dear friends, what food you make I can't afford to miss?"
They started him with muesli, then fondue and raclette
They followed up with many cakes and lots of chocolate.
He had to buy a longer belt, his trouser seams were torn:
A sadder and a wider man, he rose the morrow morn.
To Absent Minds
Inspiration, so ‘tis said,
Is often born in bath or bed
And we may never find again
The thought that finds us on a train
And so, no matter where or when,
Have paper with you and a pen
(And easy access to a light
The best ideas arrive by night)
No inconvenience or fuss
On bog or bike or omnibus,
No obstacles of any sort
Should keep us from collecting thought.
[from Fardel's Bear, ch 13]
I walk on ice, avoiding injury
It isn't nice, but when you're old like me
You have to go quite gingerly
I move like I just soiled my underwear
I once was shy but now I just don't care
As I keep going gingerly