by Stevie Smith
What’s it about: the complete poems and doodles of eccentric English poet Stevie Smith (1902-1971).
Why you should read it: because of her ability to tackle a serious subject, plainly and playfully (think - the love child of Emily Dickinson and Ogden Nash) and with a healthy dose of irony. Funny and wise, aching and ironic, Smith’s nimble poems dance their way across themes of War, Death and human interaction. I keep this book on the nightstand to steal a quick, enjoyable read.
*Smith was the subject of a play, Stevie, which was turned into a 1978 film starring Glenda Jackson.
Selection:
Not Waving but Drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
The Jungle Husband
Dearest Evelyn, I often think of you
Out with the guns in the jungle stew
Yesterday I hittapotamus
I put the measurements down for you but they got lost in the fuss
It's not a good thing to drink out here
You know, I've practically given it up dear.
Tomorrow I am going alone a long way
Into the jungle. It is all grey
But green on top
Only sometimes when a tree has fallen
The sun comes down plop, it is quite appalling.
You never want to go in a jungle pool
In the hot sun, it would be the act of a fool
Because it's always full of anacondas, Evelyn, not looking ill-fed
I'll say. So no more now, from your loving husband Wilfred.
