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30 Sep 04 - 09:03 PM (#1285448) Subject: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk THE BURNS STATUE (A FRAGMENT) by William McGonagall This Statue, I must confess, is magnificent to see, And I hope will long be appreciated by the people of Dundee; It has been beautifully made by Sir John Steell, And I hope the pangs of hunger he will never feel. This statue is most elegant in its design, And I hope will defy all weathers for a very long time; And I hope strangers from afar with admiration will stare On this beautiful statue of thee, Immortal Bard of Ayr. Fellow-citizens, this Statue seems most beautiful to the eye, Which would cause Kings and Queens for such a one to sigh, And make them feel envious while passing by In fear of not getting such a beautiful Statue after they die. ************ The only thing that puzzles me about this poem is that McGonagall normally goes on for at least 15 verses when he is this inspired. I gather that this is the only surviving fragment of a larger work that has been, alas, lost to posterity. It grieves me, I must confess, this poetry to read, Knowing that it is but a mere partial surviving fragment indeed, Of what must truly have been, I do declare A wondrous train of magnificent prose to recite to a lady fair At which her cheeks would flush with delight like a fresh ripe tomato, And not with the sallow hue of a common earthy potato For poetry doth sooth the savage beast and it drives dull care away As such, it is truly the nobler art most fashioned for the modern day And thus I do declare with no doubt harboured in my breast That the reading of good poetry doth ease the heart's painful distress All widows and orphans and those who are stricken with dread disease Should reach much fine poetry and thereby find themselves much greater ease And upon the poets of this land there falls a clear responsibility, To write, yes write! And write again and what the muse confers most willingly, For if 'twere not for inspiring words writ in poetry and prose What comfort could there be in life, even if one had ample food and clothes? |
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30 Sep 04 - 09:12 PM (#1285453) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Peace The bards in the deep countryside wayward inns Are writing with fervor that stirs the winds That awoke the blowing gales of January, In that restless and murky poetic river estuary. (Let's help McGonagall finish his poem.) |
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30 Sep 04 - 09:20 PM (#1285460) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk Great, great...that's the spirit! Remember: 4 line stanzas which sort of rhyme. Serious lack of rhythm and meter. Florid and dramatic language, laden with passion, and hopefully leading to something very anticlimactic after a big initial buildup. |
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30 Sep 04 - 09:35 PM (#1285471) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: freda underhill A certain edifice upright stands erect, for all poor poets to laud tall, proud, unwavering, for the mind uptight relieving tension for the cyber bored This statue is most eloquent in its design, And I hope will defy all wankers for a very long time; And I hope strangers from afar with admiration will blush Before this beautiful statue and its stunning tush. Fellow-mudcatters, this Statue seems most beautiful to the eye, Which would cause common folks for such a one to sigh, And make them feel starry eyed while passing by In fear of not getting such a beautiful Shatner after they die. |
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30 Sep 04 - 09:39 PM (#1285475) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Peace It stands in glorious redoubtment, alone together In warm and cold yet miserable Spring weather, And pigeons weep loudly from their noble perches And poets weave paths through piles of cut-down birches. |
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30 Sep 04 - 09:44 PM (#1285477) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk Oh! Marvelous! I love the non-sequiter about the cut-down birches. Very McGonagallesque! I like the idea of an eloquent statue too. That says a lot. |
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30 Sep 04 - 09:53 PM (#1285480) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk This statue will stand through all the ages of man to boldly attest, That by the hand of a man hath sprung art that is heav'nly blest, Upon my word, I do declare, it is most glorious to see, For which many will journey far from their homes to view it in fair Dundee. |
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30 Sep 04 - 10:02 PM (#1285485) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Peace The pose is stately and regalous, it speaks of older times When the newness of timorous beasties had simpler rodent minds Redolent with the wafting scent of gentle breezes That carried odours from the goat's milk lunchtime cheeses. |
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30 Sep 04 - 10:21 PM (#1285495) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: freda underhill Proud Robbie Burns, upright for all who wilt Observe his rocky sporran and the marble kilt, Chiselled jaw and the stony noble brow, before which many who love all Robbie's poems will stoop and bow And yet alone, in wansome or in pensive mood He wandered lonely through the bonnie doon And cast his eyes so weary, fu' o' care Across the banks and braes which bloomed so fair Alas there may be some who to this proud monument do come to seek Who have travelled far to come, observe and peek Who never spy the wisdom in that statue built Instead, who wonder what lies beneath that checquered kilt A chequered history not many men becomes Yet some do wear this burden wearily Our Robbie Burns a tartan life did lead Where many roses bloomed did our dear robbie wantonly cast his seed This statue shows so proud for all to see The burdened heart and lusty thighs so free A monument to wasted flesh and stormy heart But can a monument of stone with its secrets be so free to part? |
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30 Sep 04 - 10:26 PM (#1285499) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Peace And here we're left with a tale in need of an end, A tale of hope and joy; a tale that seeks to surrender Itself to feelings of great worthfulness and stateless knots That seek to ravel poetic ropes into beautiful thought. |
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30 Sep 04 - 10:45 PM (#1285514) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: freda underhill But this Statue, eternally defies the winds of time, And I hope will long be seen in the public mall at Dundee; It has been manufactured to last past the insurance date Indeed, may our children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children be able to admire it, still standing in state And so how can we, mere chroniclers of sculpted verse Condemn this ode to poetry's dark and doomed black hearse For where a sculpture of the Greatest Bard stands defiant before time So should we, the humble catters yet continue with our rhyme |
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30 Sep 04 - 10:47 PM (#1285518) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk Splendid. Awe-inspiring. Moving. I am touched. |
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30 Sep 04 - 10:57 PM (#1285530) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Amos Now with measured steps, we leave this hall, And turn our backs on poets great and small, But as for rodents, one stand out above them all: It is the Scot, Wiliam McGonagall Who with a blink, a nod, a tip of hat Could turn a poem out just like that And leave it lying there before the madding masses Like some ripe fruit produced by horse's asses. Never as great as Burns, never as wise Never with tongue as sweet, or clear his eyes But as for length of product in numbers round It may be that our William won hands down. |
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30 Sep 04 - 11:02 PM (#1285536) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Peace Awesome. Absolutely awesome. Wow. An epic. Words fail me. Whew. |
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30 Sep 04 - 11:06 PM (#1285541) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: freda underhill for one consistent thing was William Mc Gonagall famous his verses rhymed invariably, never mind the scan and now i think, and say to you, But Amos! which of us could better such a man? who of us can now send to the worm farm of poetic history such a poet as McGonagall, a witer of bland mystery for within the veins of time and honour speak of many a heart which would forever feel quite a bit bleak If McGonagall, bless his golden copperplate hand, should with his works fly in the dust and sand into the ashes of incinerated waste which are condemned to fly through such as your poor taste. to each their own, and everyone of us indulged diversity in versity i do indulge else before us in the swills of time is lost McGonagall, to what great cultural cost? |
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30 Sep 04 - 11:34 PM (#1285575) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk My heart swells until it might well burst asunder Before the strains of such puissant poetic thunder As I have seen, I do declare, this eve upon the page Wherein savants such as freda and Amos proudly siezed the stage And did declare in verses most magnificent Emotions neither lewd nor even slightly maleficent No, not of the coarser sort by which society is oftimes cursed By those vile ruffians who do consort with more vulgar verse Such as may be heard at night in those noisome public houses That are scattered about our fair country towns like some many louses Wherein those vile wretches copiously and heedlessly consume The spiritous liquors that must one day deliver them to their doom And these tragic souls then wander the streets declaiming With ribald verse and vulgar songs profanely exclaiming They do affront the mother and child and the virgins too As they stick facedown on the pavement like carpenter's glue There to disgrace themselves and impoverish their poor wives Whose faces wax pale like sheets or perhaps old butter knives For what should transpire when the sotted wretch comes home vexed To find that his vile habit has left him morally perplexed And not of any use to the betterment of society Nor even of as much utility as a leaden boat would be If launched upon the waters, for being overheavy it must sink Just as does the drunkard down, down into his drink! Therefore, be warned all who would be thus enticed astray From the bosom of a family life. Do not be waylaid! But eschew the cursed demon drink, and live to be a credit To your queen and country, without affrontery. There! I'm glad I said it. |
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30 Sep 04 - 11:50 PM (#1285596) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Amos Dear drunkards all, foreswear the puritan squawk Now tendered to your ears by our bold Little Hawk Who full of runny clouds of moral fog and drool, Presumes to hand to other men a moral rule To say what should and should not be pursued And whether men's language should be neat, or lewd And if your eye should fix on kerb and wall and square Rather than on some beauteous bosom stare! Nay never say deny, when to thine lights Sweet gentle curves appear, rich in delight Nor flinch from holy contemplation, never folly, Of full supported nipple, gentle aureoli, And all the beauties of the curve divine, for there, Divinity doth mortal raiment share And in support of golden globes divine Reveals the' intent of ever Higher Mind! Thus turn ye away from Grundy, Bowdler, prude, And from laments by moralisers rude, And pretense loud by cheap historian, Or even reborn old Victorian! But know by being sure of what's within The honest fire of joy, that never is a sin And do not give your soul into the lonely thrall Of Little Hawk, reincarnate McGonagall! Hastings Winthrop Doweather Letters to the Missionary Sterling, Massachusetts, 1897 |
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30 Sep 04 - 11:57 PM (#1285606) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: freda underhill These sentioments, I must confess, doth make my heart but burst Anyone who doesn't like it I say is cursed, And how also this Statue doth but move me to write effulgent rhyme Such effluent words which flow with ever winding appreciation sublime Morality is more elegant by the metre, Tho I hope in weathers cold they'll put a heater Beneath the freezing stone upon which Our Robbie resides Some warmth for the buttocks of fond admirers 'twould provide Fellow-citizens, this Statue is so beautiful I could sing, But let the council not give cold comfort to the ring, Of those who place their derriere with cheek To sit beneath the Bard and have a peek again I exhort, to all and to asunder that never in fair rhyme should all men chunder instead producing such fair and uplifting verses that shall fill our hearts, like gold fills the good man's purses. and remember wisely, those whose hearts are fu' o care the greatest happiness you can truly bear is to remember that happiness itself lies, like many women, quietly waiting on the shelf. and all you have to do is reach and take and then you can but eat it, AND the cake and just like our Robbie, quietly digest eventually you will eliminate the rest. |
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01 Oct 04 - 12:05 AM (#1285614) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: JennyO So let us now build a statue of the poet McGonagall So that when we do our supermarket shopping at the mall We will remember that noble bard as we eat our sausage roll And give thanks for one who has us all in thrall. A noble statue made of bronze will stand to greet the day As we park our cars and walk to the shops without dismay And the peace doves all will gather on this brand new resting place And relieve themselves in unison for the rest of their days. And laughing children will definitely play on it in the park And rain and sleet and snow over the years will leave their mark And this great man's poetry will live for another day As we walk past it and wend our way to work without delay. Oh that I could some day have such a fine statue erected To have such a fine thing is not to be expected Such a glorious honour is only to be aspired to And lots of rhyme and metre is certainly required too. |
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01 Oct 04 - 12:15 AM (#1285618) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk Gawd...LOL! I'm becoming incoherent. McGonagall would be beside himself with joy if he could see what his inspiration hath wrought this day! |
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01 Oct 04 - 12:23 AM (#1285628) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk I don't think McGonagall ever wrote about bosoms, Amos. He would have become overwrought, I imagine, trying to deal with such a sensitive subject. He did, however, write reams of passionate verse regarding the evils of drink. It would be most un-McGonagallesque to write about bosoms, except in a phrase such as "the bosom of his family and country". They used to even cover the lower limbs of furniture in those times, don't forget, as it might be too suggestive to expose them to the public gaze. Still, they did manage somehow to propagate further generations...so I suspect some bosoms must have been seen here and there under certain circumstances. |
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01 Oct 04 - 12:33 AM (#1285636) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: JennyO Now I fear I have delved into Pandora's Box Amongst all sorts of forgotten bad verse and old smelly socks And now that I see it, in my eye there is a tear To see how this thread has unleashed a form of verbal diarrhoea. They tumble out all over, these wretched little words Just like a multitude of tiny little turds And when I check the mudcat to see what I have said My mind is going numb and my heart is filled with dread. To think that I can write 5 verses in 5 minutes and call it poetry Then disgorge the contents out in public for all the world to see But then I think that much worse things have been said By the politicians who lead our countries, and I don't feel so bad. |
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01 Oct 04 - 01:11 AM (#1285651) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: freda underhill i notice that the propensity to write in rhyme is catching that when i read others, more versification is fulsomely hatching but yes, on a rainy day each minute painfully crawls and so we write about McGonagall and shopping malls. and its true, whatever rusty jewels our pens disgorge they're nothing near as bad as the blither some politicians disgorge especially in australia, this week of all to cometh when promises like comets streak the sky and yet will plummet when our own election finally consumates its self and for three more years our citizens shall lie forgotten upon the shelf. |
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01 Oct 04 - 01:48 AM (#1285658) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Ebbie Hooray I say Fair well you've done it Now how about doing a sonnet? |
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01 Oct 04 - 04:54 AM (#1285784) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: freda underhill McGonagall's form is fairest of them all each limping patterned line do I recall gives rhythm a new form, or so it is well purported and consequently I say - let sonnets be aborted! for in a thumped and regular patterned verse of McGonagall's, all else is truly worse like a three legged race on crutches, he doth speak and I adoring, gaze at his poetic feet, at the end of the week. So ye McGonagall fans, come all and one to triumph in the brave Canadian sun so that McGonagall himself shall never die but posthumously decompose, in fame, let all comply. |
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01 Oct 04 - 08:51 AM (#1285930) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Amos LIttle Hawk: I wasn't writing for McGonagle. Not being his re-incarnation I would feel ... extremely... foolish even trying to speak for someone with such a distinctive style. But my defense of bosom watching stands firm in the face of all his limb-covering antics! A |
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01 Oct 04 - 11:45 AM (#1286124) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk Now...you are sounding just like William Shatner, Amos. What...could this mean? :-) |
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01 Oct 04 - 12:24 PM (#1286169) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Amos Quest ye not meaning in all you behold, For meaning can betray and make you old, A tired hero trapped in an endless path Of self-reflective myriad thought, a swath Of meanings upon meanings to endlessly unfold. Garrison Tupperly, Enchantments from The Ozark Highlands 1929 |
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01 Oct 04 - 03:30 PM (#1286297) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Peace As I bid a fond adieu to this so noble thread, And try to shake the fuzziness from deep inside my heat, The verses wax poetic and they all too often fit, Like glove on hand--McGonagall's hand--placed gently on a tit. |
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01 Oct 04 - 03:39 PM (#1286312) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Amos By George! I think he's got it!! A |
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01 Oct 04 - 07:24 PM (#1286510) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: Little Hawk ACK! Must filter out that disturbing mental image! Sinful! Bad! Scandalous! If McGonagall had ever discovered the joys of sexuality, I fear the World would have lost a great body of poetry. His muse would have consumed itself in a plethora of lustful acts, instead of churning out deathless poetic volumes by the lorry load. Matter of fact, if I had not discovered sex I would probably be as great a guitar players as Clapton by now... :-) I blame my general lack of accomplishment in life squarely on the wellnigh irresistible attractions of the female gender!!! |
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08 Oct 04 - 10:12 AM (#1292279) Subject: RE: BS: Poetic Statuary From: GUEST,Minerva This noble statue, of bronze (or is it marble), This shaft, this menhir, this column at which we marvel, In magnificent and noble verticality erected, Is by feeble sporran and mere wispy kilt protected. If its solid filled ears could but hear this glib talk of bosoms and hands, Would a CAT (mud) scan reveal the stirring of its imagined glands If such exist except in our imaginations, Which spiral in ever deepening poetical machinations. After contemplating the statue and starting his poetical wheels turning, Doughty McGonnagall, in his inept but empathtic rhyming wished the statue never the pangs of hunger to feel. But of what hunger does he speak? For food? Get real. When in days past the canny scuptor the chunky stane (or clay) he chiseled, Chins, and angles that purported to exhibit nobility of visage grizzled, Did he endow his his puppet, his dummy, his mannequin, With the wherewithal with which his imagination, if any, could make him a man again. Or is that a mere filled sprue hole, Where molten white-hot metal once flowed in the mold like magma through the statue's soul, And although now cold and solid and stiff within this shell of a bard, Does it really matter, as long as its hard? But wait, we who are mortal flesh in the bosom of the world, Constantly leap to unjustified conclusions absurd Are we even sure the noble statue portrays a guy, His (her) adam's apple I cannot spy. |