The Forum's Favourite Poems

"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to it for help -- for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.”

The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam

 

LAZY WIND by John Kett

I'm the on'y one on Cromer pier this February day,
An' what they call a lazy wind is whippin' up the spray;
That lazy wind, that crazy wind,
From icy seas come tew yer,
Tha's jus' tew lazy t'go round, an' so that go clean trew yer!

There's waves a-roarin' up the beach, wi'foam a-flyin' high,
An wicket sheets o' bitin' sleet come swirlin' orf the sky.
Ah, yew may try t'hide away,
That wind'll still git near yer,
An' when that dew, that go right trew - ah, tha's enough t'fleer yer!

The sea come crashin' on the stones, there's snow there on the sand;
The wind get wuss; tha's now a gaale, an' I can hardly stand-
That bitin' wind, that fightin' wind,
Thas healthy, so they say, bor;

There in't no germs on Cromer pier, tha's blew 'em all away, bor!

Just for those looking to holiday in Norfolk