Monday, January 17, 2011

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message "He is Dead"
Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought that love would last forever: 'I was wrong'

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

--- W.H. Auden


Shadow said...

profoundly sad.

Debrah Riddleton said...

In all my life, this is the first time I read something like: "Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun". It is fantastic. I found another point of view.
This kind of poems awake the spirit and the feelings.

Dreamcatcher said...

totally agree... poetry is very powerful!

Literalia said...

Dreamcatcher very significant:
I am very impressed with your poetic style. I kindly request you grant me to publish your poem in our International Poetry Competition.
It will be a pleasure to have your participation.
I await your response:
Arturo Juárez Muñoz

Dreamcatcher said...

Hi Arturo... sorry but 'Funeral Blues' is not my poem... as indicated its written by W.H. Auden. My poems are in red font and signed 'dreamcatcher' on my blog