Can anyone tell me what the above term means? Metaphysical poetry, I mean.
I recall, a couple of centuries ago, studying a book entitled ‘The Metaphysical Poets’ and drawing the conclusion that metaphysical poets were just a bunch of dudes trying to convince girls to slip out of their underwear as soon and as often as possible. It is a fairly standard dude approach to life, and one to which I may have once prescribed myself (and, in truth, still do – theoretically, at least) but these particular dudes dressed the argument up in fancy language which somehow gave them literary credibility (though how much action they enjoyed between the sheets as a result is not recorded by history).
Inspired lines such as
“But at my back I always hear
Times winged chariot hurrying near”
“The Grave’s a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace”.
“Thus, though we cannot make our Sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.”
were just another way of saying, “listen, sweetheart – the bar is about to close and, let’s face it, neither of us are getting any younger. So how about it?”
I was somehow reminded of all this by a post from Cyranny who may have been, in fact, alluding to something else. But I realised that 97% of my so-called poetry has been metaphysical – in the sense that the primary objective has always been to seperate women from their underwear.
I wrote back to Cyranny, thus. Because …. what harm could there be in giving it another go?
I’d open any door
Yet leave thee thirsty,
I have not long to live
And not much more of me
I am beyond my prime
We must hurry
There’s no time
Let’s pop the cork
Let’s take a drink
Let’s not take too much time
Let’s not argue
Let’s have fun
I’ll love you
Then I’ll owe you one