Poetry
Much of the copy submitted by soldiers of the Division was poetry. Some was good, some was doggerel and occasional pieces were excellent: but not all was welcome. The fourth issue contained this notice from the editor:
"We regret to announce that an insidious disease is affecting the Division, and the result is a hurricane of poetry. Subalterns have been seen with a notebook in one hand, and bombs in the other absently walking near the wire in deep communication with their muse. Even Quartermasters with "books, note, one" and "pencil, copying" break into song while arguing the point re "boots. gum, thigh". The Editor would be obliged if a few of the poets would break into prose as the paper cannot live by poems alone."Nonetheless, much of the space in the paper was taken up by poems. Two typical examples are given below.
Realizing Men must laugh, Some Wise Man devised the Staff : Dressed them up in little dabs Of rich variegated tabs : Taught them how to win the War On A.F.Z. 354 : Let them lead the Simple Life Far from all our vulgar strife : Nightly gave them downy beds For their weary, aching heads : Lest their relatives might grieve Often, often gave them leave, Decorations too, galore : What on earth could man wish more? Yet, alas, or so says Rumour, He forgot a sense of Humour! The world wasn't made in a day, And Eve didn't ride on a bus, But most of the world's in a sandbag, The rest of its plastered on us.Read more about this topic: Wipers Times
Famous quotes containing the word poetry:
“Poetry, whose material is language, is perhaps the most human and least worldly of the arts, the one in which the end product remains closest to the thought that inspired it.... Of all things of thought, poetry is the closest to thought, and a poem is less a thing than any other work of art ...”
—Hannah Arendt (1906–1975)
“When I said.
A rose is a rose is a rose.
And then later made that into a ring I made poetry and what
did I do I caressed completely caressed and addressed
a noun.”
—Gertrude Stein (1874–1946)
“Do you know how poetry started? I always think that it started when a cave boy came running back to the cave, through the tall grass, shouting as he ran, “Wolf, wolf,” and there was no wolf. His baboon-like parents, great sticklers for the truth, gave him a hiding, no doubt, but poetry had been born—the tall story had been born in the tall grass.”
—Vladimir Nabokov (1899–1977)