December 14, 2014
Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Furnish’d and burnish’d by Aldershot sun, What strenuous singles we played after tea, We in the tournament – you against me! Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy, The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy, With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won, I am weak from […]
Tags: A Subaltern's Love Song, joan jackson, John Betjeman, poem, Tom O'Bedlam
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December 12, 2014
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]
Tags: Andy Garcia, kiss, loss, love, Pablo Neruda, pain, Tom O'Bedlam, tonight i can write the saddest lines
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July 3, 2014
What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust […]
Tags: A Psalm of Life, death, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, life, poem, sorrow, time, Tom O'Bedlam
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June 24, 2014
Beneath the living cross I lie And swoon towards eternity: Prodigious sinewy shapes, and lean, And curving limbs of Messaline. The deep arched eyes, the floating mane,– One pierces, one wraps-in my brain: A crown of thorn, a spear of clean Cold fire of dying Messaline. Swart tangles of devouring hair, The scorpion labyrinth and snare, […]
Tags: Aleister Crowley, cruelty, desire, lust, Messaline, passion, poem, sin, Tom O'Bedlam
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June 4, 2014
the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break vases against the walls and the men drink too much and nobody finds the one but keep looking crawling in and out of beds. flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than […]
Tags: Alone With Everybody, ambiguity, Charles Bukowski, loneliness, poem, Tom O'Bedlam
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June 3, 2014
Be near me when my light is low, When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick And tingle; and the heart is sick, And all the wheels of Being slow. Be near me when the sensuous frame Is rack’d with pangs that conquer trust; And Time, a maniac scattering dust, And Life, a Fury slinging […]
Tags: Alfred Tennyson, be near me, beauty, death, Ian Richardson, in memoriam, life, poem, time, Tom O'Bedlam
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May 31, 2014
The English are so nice so awfully nice they are the nicest people in the world. And what’s more, they’re very nice about being nice about your being nice as well! If you’re not nice they soon make you feel it. Americans and French and Germans and so on they’re all very well but they’re […]
Tags: D.H. Lawrence, modernism, poem, The English Are So Nice, Tom O'Bedlam
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May 24, 2014
The sea is calm tonight. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits; on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. Come to the window, sweet is the night-air! Only, from the long line of spray Where […]
Tags: beauty, Dover Beach, love, Matthew Arnold, nature, tom Hiddleston, Tom O'Bedlam
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May 6, 2014
Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way To walk, and pass our long love’s day; Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood; […]
Tags: Andrew Marvell, death, life, love, lust, poem, time, to his coy mistress, tom Hiddleston, Tom O'Bedlam
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April 28, 2014
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being […]
Tags: Harvey Keitel, if, Michael Caine, poem, Rudyard Kipling, Tom O'Bedlam
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