{"id":2759,"date":"2025-07-29T22:44:05","date_gmt":"2025-07-29T22:44:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/?page_id=2759"},"modified":"2025-10-28T04:23:48","modified_gmt":"2025-10-28T04:23:48","slug":"favourite-poems","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/favourite-poems\/","title":{"rendered":"Favourite Words and Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<div class=\"wp-block-ideabox-toc ib-block-toc\" data-anchors='h2,h3,h4,h5,h6' data-include='.entry-content' data-exclude='.sharedaddy' data-collapsable='true' ><div class=\"ib-toc-container ib-toc-list-style-numbers ib-toc-hierarchical ib-toc-expanded\"><div class=\"ib-toc-header\"><div class=\"ib-toc-header-title\">Table of Contents<\/div><div class=\"ib-toc-header-right\"><span class=\"ib-toc-icon-collapse\"><span class=\"dashicon dashicons dashicons-minus\"><\/span><\/span><span class=\"ib-toc-icon-expand\"><span class=\"dashicon dashicons dashicons-plus\"><\/span><\/span><\/div><\/div><div class=\"ib-toc-separator\" style=\"height:2px\"><\/div><div class=\"ib-toc-body\"><ol class=\"ib-toc-anchors\"><\/ol><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\">Words and Definitions<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>I am an avid fan of Scrabble and have a fleeting interest in etymology &#8211; here are some of the words that have caught my attention over the years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<ul class=\"wp-block-list\">\n<li>anemoia &#8211; having the feeling of nostalgia about something not personally experienced or before your time. <em>I personally experience anemoia with my vinyl collection which I started in my early forties but when I was first buying physical music, I was buying CDs in the 90s.<\/em> Philosophase has done a <a href=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=-6FgxxB7jhk\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\">video<\/a> on the topic.<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>erudite &#8211; Having great knowledge or learning<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>quixotic &#8211; extremely idealistic; unrealistic and impractical<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>verisimilitude- the appearance of being true or real<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>ephemeral &#8211; lasting for a very short time<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>paeidolia &#8211; see faces in patterns<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>vicepherous &#8211; vehement outcry<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>panegyric &#8211; public speech or text in praise of someone\/thing<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>pathos &#8211; a quality that evokes pity or sadness<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>rhetoric &#8211; the art of effective or persuasive speaking or writing<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>pejorative &#8211; expressing contempt or disapproval<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>anthropomorphic &#8211; having human characteristics<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>catasta &#8211; platform for exhibiting slaves for sale<\/li>\n\n\n\n<li>enshittification &#8211; the process where online platforms, initially designed to be user-friendly and beneficial, gradually degrade in quality as they prioritize profit-making over user experience<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\">Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>Do not go gentle into that good night,<br>Old age should burn and rave at close of day;<br>Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Though wise men at their end know dark is right,<br>Because their words had forked no lightning they<br>Do not go gentle into that good night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright<br>Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,<br>Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,<br>And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,<br>Do not go gentle into that good night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight<br>Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,<br>Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And you, my father, there on the sad height,<br>Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.<br>Do not go gentle into that good night.<br>Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\">The Lamb, William Blake<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>Little Lamb who made thee<br>Dost thou know who made thee<br>Gave thee life &amp; bid thee feed.<br>By the stream &amp; o&#8217;er the mead;<br>Gave thee clothing of delight,<br>Softest clothing wooly bright;<br>Gave thee such a tender voice,<br>Making all the vales rejoice!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Little Lamb who made thee<br>Dost thou know who made thee<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-syntaxhighlighter-code \"><pre class=\"brush: plain; title: ; notranslate\" title=\"\">\nLittle Lamb I&#039;ll tell thee,\nLittle Lamb I&#039;ll tell thee!\n<\/pre><\/div>\n\n\n<p>He is called by thy name,<br>For he calls himself a Lamb:<br>He is meek &amp; he is mild,<br>He became a little child:<br>I a child &amp; thou a lamb,<br>We are called by his name.<br>Little Lamb God bless thee.<br>Little Lamb God bless thee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"0-dulce-et-decorum-est-wilfred-owen\">Dulce et Decorum Est, Wilfred Owen<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,<br>Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,<br>Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,<br>And towards our distant rest began to trudge.<br>Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,<br>But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;<br>Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots<br>Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!\u2014An ecstasy of fumbling<br>Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,<br>But someone still was yelling out and stumbling<br>And flound\u2019ring like a man in fire or lime.\u2014<br>Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,<br>As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In all my dreams before my helpless sight,<br>He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace<br>Behind the wagon that we flung him in,<br>And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,<br>His hanging face, like a devil\u2019s sick of sin;<br>If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood<br>Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,<br>Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud<br>Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,\u2014<br>My friend, you would not tell with such high zest<br>To children ardent for some desperate glory,<br>The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est<br>Pro patria mori.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"1-jabberwocky-lewis-carroll\">Jabberwocky, Lewis Carroll<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>\u2019Twas brillig, and the slithy toves<br>Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:<br>All mimsy were the borogoves,<br>And the mome raths outgrabe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBeware the Jabberwock, my son!<br>The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!<br>Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun<br>The frumious Bandersnatch!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He took his vorpal sword in hand;<br>Long time the manxome foe he sought\u2014<br>So rested he by the Tumtum tree<br>And stood awhile in thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And, as in uffish thought he stood,<br>The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,<br>Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,<br>And burbled as it came!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>One, two! One, two! And through and through<br>The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!<br>He left it dead, and with its head<br>He went galumphing back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd hast thou slain the Jabberwock?<br>Come to my arms, my beamish boy!<br>O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!\u201d<br>He chortled in his joy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u2019Twas brillig, and the slithy toves<br>Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:<br>All mimsy were the borogoves,<br>And the mome raths outgrabe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"2-aedh-wishes-for-the-cloths-of-heaven-wb-yeats\">Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven, W.B. Yeats<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>Had I the heavens\u2019 embroidered cloths,<br>Enwrought with golden and silver light,<br>The blue and the dim and the dark cloths<br>Of night and light and the half light,<br>I would spread the cloths under your feet:<br>But I, being poor, have only my dreams;<br>I have spread my dreams under your feet;<br>Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"3-caged-bird-maya-angelou\">Caged Bird, Maya Angelou<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>A free bird leaps<br>on the back of the wind<br>and floats downstream<br>till the current ends<br>and dips his wing<br>in the orange sun rays<br>and dares to claim the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>But a bird that stalks<br>down his narrow cage<br>can seldom see through<br>his bars of rage<br>his wings are clipped and<br>his feet are tied<br>so he opens his throat to sing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The caged bird sings<br>with a fearful trill<br>of things unknown<br>but longed for still<br>and his tune is heard<br>on the distant hill<br>for the caged bird<br>sings of freedom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The free bird thinks of another breeze<br>and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees<br>and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn<br>and he names the sky his own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams<br>his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream<br>his wings are clipped and his feet are tied<br>so he opens his throat to sing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The caged bird sings<br>with a fearful trill<br>of things unknown<br>but longed for still<br>and his tune is heard<br>on the distant hill<br>for the caged bird<br>sings of freedom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"4-vogon-poetry-douglas-adams\">Vogon Poetry, Douglas Adams<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>Oh freddled gruntbuggly,<br>Thy micturations are to me<br>As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.<br>Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,<br>And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,<br>Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts<br>With my blurglecruncheon, see if I don&#8217;t!&#8221;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&#8220;Bleem miserable venchit! Bleem<br>forever mestinglish asunder frapt.<br>Gashee morphousite,<br>thou expungiest quoopisk!<br>Fripping lyshus wimbgunts,<br>awhilst moongrovenly kormzibs.<br>Gerond withoutitude form into formless bloit,<br>why not then? Moose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\">There is a World, Estelle White<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>There is a world where people come and go<br>about their ways and never care to know<br>that every step they take is placed on roads<br>Made out of men who had to carry loads too hard to bear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Chorus: That world\u2019s not ours! That\u2019s what we always say.<br>We\u2019ll build a new one but some other day!<br>When will we wake from comfort and from ease,<br>and strive together to create a world of love and peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>There is a world where people walk alone,<br>And have around them men with hearts of stone,<br>Who would not spare one second of their day,<br>Or spend their breath in order just to say:<br>\u201cYour pain is mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>There is a world where brothers cannot meet<br>With one another, where the tramp of feet<br>Bring men of ice, men who would force apart<br>Friends of all races having but one heart,<br>A heart of love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>I have a fondness for this hymn that we sand, from Hymns Old and New 1989, in primary school<\/em>. There is <a href=\"https:\/\/www.godsongs.net\/2013\/10\/estelle-white-musician-and-hymn-writer.html\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\">more information<\/a> on Estelle White and a biography.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Words and Definitions I am an avid fan of Scrabble and have a fleeting interest in etymology &#8211; here are some of the words that have caught my attention over the years. Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light. The Lamb, William[&#8230;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2759","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"featured_image_src":null,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P89zH1-Iv","jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2759","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2759"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2759\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2836,"href":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2759\/revisions\/2836"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jameshatton.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2759"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}