(found poem) Toast & Tea
So since I haven't posted here in a while (and my last post was some random keysmashing over a graphic BL game, urhur) and I currently have a five-page essay to write... here, have some old writing stuff! (Well, actually, it's not that old. It's from last year.)
This was an assignment for my senior-year English class. It's a found poem of T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. As it is a found poem, all lines belong to Eliot, and only the organization is mine. I ended up having a whole bunch of fun with this, and maybe if I can get the poster I made of this back someday, I'll take a picture of what I drew for this and post it here. I also might consider doing more found poetry in the future, especially when I'm in a writing rut like I'm in now, haha.
But, anyway, without further ado...
-
Toast & Tea
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back.
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Let us go then, you and I
To swell a progress, start a scene or two.
When the wind blows the water white and black,
When the evening is spread out against the sky,
Let us go and make our visit.
So how should I presume?
And how should I begin?
Politic, cautious, and meticulous,
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown,
I shall wear white flannel trousers and walk upon the beach--
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled--
And this, and so much more!
In a minute there is time--
Before the taking of toast and tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me--
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor--
And indeed there will be time.
And should I then presume?
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And licked its tongue into the corners of the evening.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
Beneath the music from a farther room.
And indeed there will be time.
This was an assignment for my senior-year English class. It's a found poem of T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. As it is a found poem, all lines belong to Eliot, and only the organization is mine. I ended up having a whole bunch of fun with this, and maybe if I can get the poster I made of this back someday, I'll take a picture of what I drew for this and post it here. I also might consider doing more found poetry in the future, especially when I'm in a writing rut like I'm in now, haha.
But, anyway, without further ado...
-
Toast & Tea
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back.
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Let us go then, you and I
To swell a progress, start a scene or two.
When the wind blows the water white and black,
When the evening is spread out against the sky,
Let us go and make our visit.
So how should I presume?
And how should I begin?
Politic, cautious, and meticulous,
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown,
I shall wear white flannel trousers and walk upon the beach--
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled--
And this, and so much more!
In a minute there is time--
Before the taking of toast and tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me--
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor--
And indeed there will be time.
And should I then presume?
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And licked its tongue into the corners of the evening.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
Beneath the music from a farther room.
And indeed there will be time.