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At High Table Called For Child Crying Dead Metaphors Dead Wood Dust Education Essays in criticism For Louis Macneice Girdle Round the Earth Great Foreign Writer Haiku Yearbook Hedgehog Monologue in the Valley of the Kings Passing On Philip Larkin in New Orleans Poems posthumous poem Processes Prologue to an unfinished Rescue Dig Reticulations of the caterpillar September 3rd 1939: Bournemouth Silence Simple poem The Bonfire The Cry The Longer sequences Two Faces UncategorizedTags
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Recent Posts
- Anthony Thwaite reading from “Going Out” at his Enitharmon Press launch: does this video prove him to be our greatest living poet?
- Anthony Thwaite’s ‘Kanji’ — a poem about learning, language, children and Japanese culture
- ‘Old South’ — Thwaite’s poem about memory, passing on & the Civil war drummer boy…
- Anthony Thwaite’s poem ‘Arabic Script’ — the majesty, power and terror of language
- Anthony Thwaite discusses his longer sequences of poems on Libya, Japan, Victorian England and St Augustine
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Tag Archives: death
Prologue to an unfinished, posthumous poem — a grumpy old man poem to end all grumpy old men poems!!
Monologue in the Valley of the Kings — an #Egyptian mummy speaks of how he will never be found
Thwaite reads this poem, which he feels is one of his favourites, at the Poetry Archive here. I have hidden something in the inner chamber And sealed the lid of the sarcophagus And levered a granite boulder against the door … Continue reading
Dead Wood — a poem about #environmental disaster #apocalypse #oil men #eons
Worn down to stumps, shredded by the wind, Crushed underfoot in brittle slaty husks, The forest turned from wood to stone to dust. The rind of bark peeled off in slivers, shed Dry spores, mineral resins, scales of scrim, Scattering … Continue reading
Posted in Dead Wood
Tagged apocalypse, basilisks, Dead Wood, death, eons of time, Inscriptions (1973), mineral resins, oil men, plateau, pygmies, spores
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Dust — poem all about #death #indestructibility #beauty #poetry #phoenix
Beautiful only when the light catches it Arrested yet volatile in a shaft of sun, Or under the microscope, like an ancient detritus Of snowflakes: otherwise valueless debris. The ash from my cigarette, the air from my lungs, The soles … Continue reading
Posted in Dust
Tagged death, Dust, indestructibility, phoenix, rising again, The Stones of Emptiness (1967), ubiquity
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