Wednesday, August 7, 2013

We interrupt this lugubrious enterprise in favour of Fintan

Like you, dear reader,
I squirm at assertions
of personal privilege,
among those who assert
an empathy for customs
in common. Just now on
the other hand, Fintan
executed his signature
flying leap into a dir-
ector's chair which or-
dinarily accommodates
only your devoted ser-
vant, at this Louis XV
desk snaffled from the
auction of Mrs Hunting-
ton's things, eons ago.
My mother's cigarettes
embellish its descent.

But if you, as I some-
times do in Summer, re-
pair to the pantry for
a revivification of a
moderate gin and tonic,
and find your English
dog contesting your sin-
ecure in a bound which
tumbles it over into a
sarouk that shouldn't be
there, you are left with
the choice of marveling
at the élan of his geste,
or scolding an innocent
for his love.

Ah. Your verdict?


  1. Hi "there"....
    Have told you before that my English is too bad to understand your poetry in full, not to mention my intellect! But I've got 'somehow' the sense of it....

    Just like to say THANK YOU!..
    Thank you for reading my little blog and..AND!...YOUR thoughtful comments, especially to the French Revolution and the 'Human Rights'!
    Warmest greetings from the Périgord, karin

    1. Dear Lady, your English must indeed by awful to confuse this page with poetry -- but whatever disability this is, I wish you'd let me extract it to circulate to the rest of the readership. Better to be hung for a fawn than for a stag. You create a beautiful and refreshing blog and I often realise, I could almost not stand to persist in this one, without the tonic of yours. Best wishes to the Périgord, and the Amsterdam Baroque.