Pantoumonium

I'm just posting to let you know I'm still alive, and not blogging much because everything is a bit rubbish right now. And, of course, to tell you about fifteenth century verse poetry. Specificaly the Pantoum, which I read about in Stephen Fry's new book, The Ode Less Travelled (I have a signed copy, its value somewhat diminished through its being covered in iamb-marking pencil dots), and has pretty much the most complicated structure of any poem ever, where there's eight lines, but they're all used twice in a really confusing way. A good Pantoum is stunning, however, as you won't discover reading my own, Brighton Pantoum:

(Yes, amatuer poetry. I get more cliched by the day. I didn't even spell amatuer right.)


Brighton Pantoum

The Dark and Deadly British Isles,
Sheltering under the squeaking rain,
Shoppers, unconvincing smiles,
Tourists stopping to complain.

Sheltering under the squeaking rain,
Locals by the Kiss-me-Quick,
Tourists, stopping to complain,
Buy an overpriced rock-stick.

Locals by the Kiss-me-Quick,
Blame it all on Tony Blair,
Buy an overpriced rock stick,
Suck on it, and stop and stare.

Blame it all on Tony Blair,
Shoppers, unconvincing smiles,
Suck on it, and stop and stare,
The Dark and Deadly British Isles.


...My Mum likes it, anyway.