written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label Pope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pope. Show all posts

Wednesday, 28 October 2026

Heroic Couplets

I’ve heard of Heroic Couplets but don’t know what they are. Presumably some sort of poetic style from a few hundred years ago. I’ll have a look in a minute or so. But just before I do that, a thought has just popped into my head of a couple of heroes of my own.

What had struck me was Lennon and McCartney. Not only one of the greatest song writing partnerships with approximately 180 jointly credited songs but they are widely credited with establishing the modern singer‑songwriter model. Before the 1960s most bands did not write their own material, and most of their hits were written for them by session musicians hired by record companies.

Lennon and McCartney, song writing partnership
Then another couple sprang to mind as I’d just watched the ‘America’ dance scene from Leonard Bernstein’s ‘West Side Story’. Which is how the show is usually advertised, even for the Proms. It is, of course, Bernstein AND STEPHEN SONDHEIM’s West Side Story. It does annoy me that lyricists are usually the forgotten heroes. Here’s a link. Perfect matching of words and music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_e2igZexpMs

I let my mind drift for other couples and unexpectedly thought of Torvill and Dean. At the Sarajevo 1984 Winter Olympics the pair won gold receiving twelve perfect 6.0s and six 5.9s which included artistic impression scores of 6.0 from every judge, after skating to Ravel's Boléro. One of the most-watched television events ever in the United Kingdom, their 1984 Olympics performance was watched by a British television audience of more than 24 million people. I just had another look and their routine is still astonishing:
https://www.olympics.com/en/video/torvill-and-dean-s-legendary-bolero-performance-music-mondays

I can’t not include football partnerships and not from the Premier League, thank you very much. After much thought I decided to stick with what I’ve seen or else it should include Stan Matthews and Stan Mortensen in the famous Matthews Cup Final of 1953.

Mortensen and Matthews (sitting on the shoulders of giants)
So I’m going for the Tony Adams and Steve Bould from Arsenal’s great seasons in the late 80’s and early 90’s. I know that it should include Lee Dixon and Nigel Winterburn but it’s my article and I’ll have those two as the second couplet.

Of course, the very best couple was Trevor Francis and Bob Latchford for Birmingham City in the mid 70s but that is too obvious.

I first came across Detective Chief Inspector Morse back in about 1986 when I spotted The Silent World of Nicholas Quinn and was immediately hooked. His partnership with Sergeant Lewis is wonderfully portrayed in Colin Dexter’s books. The tv series is fine but the books are properly gritty, not the lush version on screen.

I think one of the most heroic couples are Jane and Stephen Hawking. The couple met at Cambridge University. They went on to marry in 1965, Jane aged just 21, and had three children together. They were married for 30 years from 1965 until they divorced in 1995. Stephen’s story is well known but I hadn’t known that Jane had earned her PhD degree in medieval Spanish poetry in April 1981.

I should end on a more up to date couple who are my heroes and they must be Wallace and Gromit. Created by Nick Park, from Preston, and described by the BBC News as ‘some of the best-known and best-loved stars to come out of the UK’.

Nick Park with Wallace and Gromit
Unfortunately, I’ve just realised that I’ve run out of time and space but have had time to find a few Heroic Couplets by Alexander Pope.

The Rape of the Lock

Here Thou, great Anna! whom three Realms obey,
Dost sometimes Counsel take—and sometimes Tea.


A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.


True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move easiest who have learned to dance.


Good nature and good sense must ever join;
To err is human, to forgive, divine.


Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest.









Thanks for reading, Terry Q.

Sunday, 17 March 2013

Faith

Good morning readers.

In what has been an exciting week both in and out of the news, I found myself almost falling over potential subjects for today’s blog. Firstly, the astute of you may have noticed I’m posting on a Sunday. I’d like to add my name to the list of people welcoming Colin to his Monday blog spot- I’m sure he’ll enjoy it over the coming months.

On a personal note, I’ve been greatly entertained by the TV news coverage over the last seven days. We’ve had a former government minister in court, the big announcement from the Vatican and the confirmation of Higgs to name just three stories to gee us up in Cheltenham week. And if you didn’t back a winner at the races, don’t worry, all losing steeds will be recycled. I have it on bad local authority that several French horses will take lead roles in school lunch events- mainly the eating ones.

What does this all have to do with bad poetry then? I would say that bad poetry, just like that second placed horse, doesn’t have to leave a bad taste in your mouth. We are all compelled to pick up a pen from time to time. As poets we revisit these, rework them and inevitably leave some on one side but, with enough chewing, there is often some fairly tasty burger to get your teeth into. I believe in bad poetry. I believe without it, we’d not have the good.

Learning from our mistakes, it all comes down to. Sometimes, it is a fair cop and you’ll just have to ride it out, head high and with the knowledge that next time you’ve got the upper hand. You’ll deliver that poem that finally gets recognition against the rude and the crude. You’ll hit that serious line home to someone. You’ll stop having to make jokes to prove yourself…

I’m keeping the faith. Until then, a bad poem.

God bless the higher powers

When we have white smoke
Will they elect a decent bloke
Will he ride a motorbike,
Keep a mohawk, fish for pike
Is he me or is he you
Will he know just what to do?

Will he take a modern name
Will he leave things just the same
Can he understand the truths
These challenges face muslims, jews
Will he be both friend and foe
As a new power, we don't know.

But when we have white smoke
I just hope he can revoke
The damage done, stem the decay
His ancient faith in dissaray
The allegations hanging over
Can this baptist move the boulder?

For there is trouble in the city
Gold and greed seldom feel pity
TV pictures, constant streaming
Naughty nuns on hooch are screaming
Seems seldom time to make a joke
Amidst the hype, there's been a vote.

Yes, we have white smoke
A new looking, Latin Pope
Rides not bikes it seems but buses
Pays his own bills, avoids fusses
Sure, this Pope still chants in Latin,
But he has his turf to flatten
Stepping up to take the mantle

Pray this man leads by example.



Shaun. 

Saturday, 23 June 2012

How I remember it



By Ashley Lister

The first time the Dead Good Poets got together was in a college classroom on 29th January 2009.  I was there. I’ve written down the way things happened exactly so that there’s no danger of these recollections being affected by fading memory.


INT. DAY: Corridor outside THE CLASSROOM.
ELIZA DUSHKU and HERMIONE GRANGER are talking in the corridor. Both are holding flyers for a Dead Good Poets event. Both are wearing bikinis and their skin glistens with crystal-like raindrops from a recent downpour.

Eliza Dushku
[Holding up a flyer]
Hello, Hermione Granger. I’m looking for the room where Ashley is reading one of his wonderful poems.

Hermione Granger
[Glancing at the doorway for THE CLASSROOM. We see a glint in her eye that says, ‘If I can’t have him, then no one can have him.’
She pushes her own flyer behind her back so that ELIZA DUSHKU cannot see what she is holding.]
I do not know of any poetry reading or any wonderful, sexy poets called Ashley. But I’d heard they were doing a reading on the other side of Blackpool. He might be there.

Eliza Dushku
I do not believe you, Hermione Granger, and I think we should wrestle in custard until one of us proves to be the victorious winner of a girl-on-girl fight.

Hermione Granger
Very well, Eliza Dushku, although I should warn you that I intend to tear off your bikini before…


CUT TO:INT. DAY: Inside THE CLASSROOM.
The scene is busy and packed like Wembley Stadium ready for a JLS concert or a Nickleback concert or even a football match with lots and lots of fans. There are also some sandwiches.

David Cameron
[Shouting angrily at Ashley]
If you read that poem in front of these students, I shall leave here and form a government that screws over the country.

Ashley
[Heroically]
Don’t make me laugh, Cam-Moron. No one would vote for you.

David Cameron
[With obvious doubt]
Maybe not. But perhaps I’ll form a coalition government.

Ashley
[Suddenly worried – but still heroic and handsome]
You wouldn’t, would you?

CAMERON rushes from the room, chuckling maniacally and rubbing his hands together, and maybe stealing the pension book from an old person as he runs past them. And probably kicking a blind man’s guide dog.

ASHLEY looks like he is about to heroically pursue CAMERON and maybe do some bad-ass ninja moves on him.

Before ASHLEY can follow, DAVINA McCALL clutches ASHLEY’s arm and pushes a microphone in his face.

Davina McCall
Ashley – are we OK to have a quick chat with you live on camera before the inaugural event of the Dead Good Poets (who haven’t yet been named) begin their first reading?

Ashley
[Humbly]
Davina, whilst I’d love to chat with you about how brilliant I and the rest of the (as yet unnamed) poets are, don’t you want to do some interviews with Barack Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Paris Hilton, Johnny Depp and all the other celebrity guests that we’ve got attending here for our inaugural event?

Davina McCall
[Looking disappointed]
You’re right, Ashley. And I hear the Pope and Jesus are about to enter the room with Michael Jackson (who is still alive because this is all happening in 2009) so I should go and have a chat with them.

Ashley
Very well, Davina. And I shall take a chair and sit with the other brilliant and wonderful poets who are going to change the face of North West poetry in the UK. And I shall wait for this event to begin. And then I shall contribute in a small and very humble way. And I’m not even slightly tempted to go outside and see what those two women are squealing about in the corridor.


CUT TO: INT. DAY: Corridor outside THE CLASSROOM.
ELIZA DUSHKU and HERMIONE GRANGER are wrestling in a vat of thick yellow custard.

FIN