Not all things go wrong, and knowing
This, be wary of despair,
As you go through hell — keep going,
Make no brave oasis there.
Through the shadowlands of grieving,
Past the giants, Doubt and Fear,
Heartsick, stunned, and half believing —
Heed no whisper in your ear.
Not all things go wrong — and after
Winter’s famine comes the spring,
Kindness, beauty, children’s laughter —
Joy is ever on the wing-by Felix Dennis
Source: Shefali Vaidya
Look at the birds.
Learn to listen to their chatter,
Their flitting, twittering flights for no
Discernible purpose; the clatter
And the cawing of that black crow,
The furtive, dry-leaved peck and scrape
Of blackbirds blundering in a bush
Seeking worms and beetles; the shape
Of the wagtail’s wing; the shove and push
Of tits among the bacon rinds;
The eerie, invisible knock,
Knock knock as a woodpecker finds
A bark grub; the wheeling starling flock.
Look at the birds.
Look at the earth.
Scoop up a handful in your palm.
Not for nothing have men plundered,
Murdered, fought and wrought great harm
Among their kind — whole empires sundered —
Just to own it, or to believe
They did. Crumble it. What’s it worth?
Ask a farmer stooping to sheave
A field of sun ripe wheat. The Earth!
The land! Listen, listen to me!
The blood of kings lies in your hand,
What came before— and what shall be.
Think on it. Seek to understand.
Look at the earth.
Look at the sky.
An emptiness? The blue-walled womb
Of all that is, of all that ever
Grazed or grew or swam — and met its doom —
Beneath our tyrant sun. Forever
Heaving, blowing, sleeting, snowing,
Raining, resting — bringing with the night
Its velvet, eerie canvas, glowing
With long dead messengers of light.
And yet, who looks— with wit to see?
Should you take long enough to chart
This wheel of time and mystery
Life’s miracle will swamp your heart.
Look at the sky.
You’re bored, child?
–wrote Felix Dennis
The wiser man forgets what he forgives,
Discarding debts as other children’s toys;
No man grows old while yet his mother lives:
To mothers, even kings are silly boys.
–wrote Felix Denis
I was the better at getting and keeping,
You were the better at spend and spend;
I was the better at grubbing and heaping,
But who was the better man in the end?
Yes, who was the better man, my friend?
Who was the better man?
You were the better with lords and ladies,
I was the better at pillaging Troy;
You were the better at kissing the babies,
I was the better at search and destroy.
But who was the better man, old boy?
Who was the better man?
I was the better at improvisation,
You were the better at spinning the plate;
I was the better at procrastination,
You were the better at quiet debate.
But who was the better man, old mate?
Who was the better man?
You were the better at rolling a reefer,
I was the better with coke and rum;
Remember that night on the beach at Ibiza?
The Maori twins with the tattooed bum?
So who was the better man, old chum?
Who was the better man?
***
Envoi
Now we come down to it, relatives grieving
Out in the hall with their crocodile tears;
Now that you’re out of it, now that you’re leaving,
Now that they’ve sealed your arse and your ears,
What I’ve been meaning to tell you for years,
And years, and years, and years, old friend...
Is that you were the better man, in the end;
You were the better man,
My friend
-By Felix Dennis