Poetry

Correct Conduct

Two found poems from Mary Woodman’s 1912 book of the same name.

Advice for Wives

Your husband

has hundreds of faults

and weaknesses –

everybody has – do not

be reminding him constantly

of them. Make a fuss of him

on his birthday

and when he is ill

give him lots of sympathy.

Most men like sympathy.

Nor

        revel in scandal

        make puns which are silly

        bore people with stale jokes

        talk of “old men of sixty”

                when older ones are within hearing

        boast about conquests with the opposite sex

        be constantly putting people right

        if you are a faddist on food or drink

                be perpetually trying to convert people

        do things which will endanger the safety

        of those around you

                (This ranges from pointing a gun

                  to throwing empty bottles from a train)

(Taken from You should never)

Advice to couples

advice to wives revisited 2022

Your partner

has hundreds of faults

and weaknesses –

everybody has – do not

be reminding them constantly.

Make a fuss of them

on their birthday

and when they are ill

give them lots of sympathy.

Most people like sympathy.

Fame, if you hanker for it, is here.

A smattering of plaques, bolted

to surprised walls of unlikely houses,

an unending well of graves

and memorials, splashed across

every city, town, or village.

We have a minor murmuration

of peculiar museums, occasional dwellings

and an apothecary garden to ambush

tourists of the obscure. Beer

is popular and more castles than folly

would suggest is good for us.

But turn your back on brickwork,

let stone peter-out along tracks

unmetalled since… humanity? Catch

a reflection of our older selves

in the hush of breeze rippling fields

between architectural hedgerows.

Breathe the phloem pheromones of trees

and eavesdrop unintelligible chatter

sparrows pizzicato from hidden interiors.

Cross the narrow waterways spiriting

power from brook to meandering Trent

and catch the song of your ancestors’ work.

Know that we built this unnatural countryside

and we tend this engine of cyclical rebirth.

We tend our most complex installation,

and we make it beautiful, a beating heart

in the chest of our island. This is creation.

Beyond slogans, art, science, history. Life.

The things that hide beneath your bed

are all just figments in your head,

but if one really comes inside

to scare him off shout 'MARMALADE!.

If there are dragons in your room

rumbling down there in the gloom

they'll disappear if you can

call, at your loudest, 'BREAD AND JAM'

But if you're really, really stuck,

while ghouls and monsters run amok,

the thing that they all hate the most

is when you yell 'MARMITE ON TOAST'

When Alice came home the girl was watching tv,

the boy was on the x-box. Two plates contained remains

of tinned spaghetti and toast.

When Alice came home the girl watched tv,

the boy played x-box. Yesterday's plates on the floor.

Two more, with toast and bean smears, on the sofa.

When Alice arrived home the girl was watching tv,

the boy playing x-box. Spaghetti plates against walls

beneath beaned ones. Picked-off pizza bits on a plate.

As Alice entered, the girl was watching the boy

playing x-box on tv. Several cornered plates

climbed the walls on top of an uncertain mess.

When Alice came home the girl was watching tv,

the boy was on the x-box. Toppled plates near the corner

showing, most recently, macaroni cheese and candy kisses.