12: Ghazal for Dylan Thomas

Hoist me a pint of ale in the old boat house;
Seek shelter from gust and gale in the old boat house.

Wield me a poem, you bardic Procol Harum:
Turn a whiter shade of pale in the old boat house!

Breezes of Laugharne, perpetually fresh!
Nothing ever goes stale in the old boat house!

Jonah me, Moby me, humpbacked and blubbered:
Spend three days in the whale of the old boat house!

Come to the confines of your monastic keep:
Lock yourself in the jail of the old boat house!

Message me in a bottle, lyric lord of Wales:
I’ll send my fan mail to the old boat house.

Let druids rise up from their moss-grown graves
And bless each rusty nail of the old boat house!

Heron and cormorant, he-gull and she-gull
Soar and wade and sail past the old boat house.

I praise your psalm-shed, beer-brawny word-worker:
Hosanna, hurrah, and hail to the old boat house!

6 thoughts on “12: Ghazal for Dylan Thomas

  1. You create such vivid descriptions here. I know nothing of a sea-faring life, yet I feel like I’m comfortably listening to old friends remember adventures. They are new adventures, yes, but I can guess at what they entail. Also, you capture the voice of Dylan Thomas effectively. Some of my favorite phrases from this?

    “Wield me a poem, you bardic Procol Harum” I love the bold action of “wielding” a poem.

    “Jonah me, Moby me, humpbacked and blubbered” Again, what creative verbs you’ve created here.

    “Come to the confines of your monastic keep:
    Lock yourself in the jail of the old boat house!” It surprised me to think of a seafarer as a monk, yet there are parallels now that I think about it.

    “I praise your psalm-shed, beer-brawny word-worker:
    Hosanna, hurrah, and hail to the old boat house!” Again, a reference to a more spiritual aspect makes this poem all the fresher and more complete for me as a reader.

  2. Glorious, energetic, rambunctious and packed full of the energy and enthusiasm of life, Dylan Thomas-style. I had to smile (broadly) as I read the lines aloud – the energy that bubbled through the phrases did not ask for a quiet reading. This is a poem which makes one glad to be alive!

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