Tuesday, September 15, 2009

To Others Than You

Friend by enemy I call you out.

You with a bad coin in your socket.
You my friend there with a winning air
Who palmed the lie on me when you looked
Brassily at my shyest secret,
Enticed with twinkling bits of the eye
Till the sweet tooth of my love bit dry,
Rasped at last, and I stumbled and sucked,
Whom now I conjure to stand as thief
In the memory worked by mirrors,
With unforgettably smiling act,
Quickness of hand in the velvet glove
And my whole heart under your hammer,
Were once such a creature, so gay and frank
A desireless familiar
I never thought to utter or think
While you displaced a truth in the air,

That though I loved them for their faults
As much as for their good,
My friends were enemies on stilts
With their head in a cunning cloud.

Dylan Thomas

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Now I know this could elicit comments of, "What's up, did someone wrong you?" But the reason I posted this poem is benign. Something did happen that made me think of it, but I have always fancied this as my favorite Thomas poem. When I was 12 or so I had it written in my tattered composition book along with a few other favorites, including Warning to Children by Robert Graves and a passage from Zarathustra by Nietzsche. Dylan Thomas was my favorite poet for the longest time, until I read Rilke. (who is my favorite poet, and always will be, thank you very much)

I think I will make some more favorite poetry posts every now and then, if you don't mind.
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