{"id":7148,"date":"2017-02-11T12:00:38","date_gmt":"2017-02-11T11:00:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148"},"modified":"2017-03-28T12:52:07","modified_gmt":"2017-03-28T11:52:07","slug":"three-poems-25","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148","title":{"rendered":"Three Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><center><\/p>\n<h4>On Latterly Overcoming Last October\u2019s Loss<\/h4>\n<p><em>for Rosa Tomalin<\/em><\/p>\n<style>\n.fulljustify {\n  text-align: justify;\nwidth:310px;\nmargin-bottom:-1.6em;\n}\n.fulljustify:after {\n  content: \"\";\n  display: inline-block;\n  width: 100%;\n}<\/style>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">Laugh out loud, oh lover of levity, our<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">lingering optimism lightens our load.<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">Observe, lover, our lashings of luxurious<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">ornament: lilac oil, Lebanese ocarinas,<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">legumes, oriental lanterns, oranges,<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">lemons or limes; O listful of lissom,<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">obdurate, lifely objects, lighting opulently<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">like old-fashioned lamp-posts onto<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">liveries of limbic obsidian; like object<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\" style=\"text-align:left;\">layered onto looser object. Listen:<\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\nour love of life ornaments life.<\/p>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">Oh! Lots of love! Outrageous levies on<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">last October\u2019s loss! Outspoken lauding of<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">linguistic observation! Lavish objections<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">looming over lazy ontologies! Let others<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">languish over lost opportunities: let\u2019s<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">overturn long outstanding limitations.<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">Our lovely organic laudanum obliterates<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">longings, or lessens our lisping<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\">objections, or leastwise outlaws languor.<\/div>\n<div class=\"fulljustify\" style=\"text-align:left;\">Oh listing Occident, lapse outwards.<\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\nLux. Omnia. Laeto.<\/center><br \/>\n&nbsp;<br \/>\n<!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<h4>Netherlands<\/h4>\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<em>Ann\u2019s Story<\/em><\/p>\n<p>I was any three-year-old: a dream of curiosity. If you see<br \/>\nan open door you go through:<br \/>\nthat\u2019s what doors <em>are<\/em>. An inconstancy<\/p>\n<p>of right and wrong \u2013 of action and its kinds of truth<br \/>\nhad inhabited my vacation head<br \/>\nthat holiday \u2013 the Netherlands, Nineteen-fifty-two.<\/p>\n<p>And the bright suburban street\u2019s nearest door was ajar, and my tread<br \/>\nstill absence-soft enough to pass whichever off-guard parent,<br \/>\nand I was in.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I remember a bed,<\/p>\n<p>and solider even than its dark-wood frame the astonishment<br \/>\nat the eyes \u2013 on me! \u2013 of the woman half-amid the sheets,<br \/>\nsmall and dense: a surprise of curves. I\u2019ve spent<\/p>\n<p>such heavy hours since, retreading these curving streets<br \/>\nof the words I\u2019ve hung on every memory I\u2019ve had<br \/>\nof those wavering Netherlands, wholly incomplete<\/p>\n<p>by now with passing through and through of that Dutch red,<br \/>\nhalf-hoping still to find a heart of flesh among the empty sheets<br \/>\nof beds; and every memory a vacated, still-warm bed.<br \/>\n&nbsp;<br \/>\n<!--nextpage--><\/p>\n<h4>Didn\u2019t Jokes Used to Be Funny?<\/h4>\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<em>after Louis MacNeice<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Time was away, and somewhere else. Pied birds<br \/>\nhung like muted baubles in the trees,<br \/>\nthe leaves of which were proof against the<br \/>\nChristmas breeze of that shocking December day\u2019s<\/p>\n<p>hour\u2019s minute\u2019s second. The word you will now<br \/>\nhave forever chosen resting like an ice-cube<br \/>\nat half-melt on your red lower lip and I wondered slowly<br \/>\nwhere time had gone: off and elsewhere. Everything<\/p>\n<p>suddenly had far too much detail; the stuff was pasted<br \/>\ncrazily on, like glitter on a schoolkid\u2019s Christmas project.<br \/>\nChristmas had come so early it passed<br \/>\nunnoticed, and the Christmas after<\/p>\n<p>loomed like a punchline, and then you\u2019re thinking<br \/>\nirrelevantly of shame, of what<br \/>\na colossal fucking shame and that time was away<br \/>\nand somewhere unrecognizably else <\/p>\n<p>had come rushing in to fill its place.<br \/>\n&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>On Latterly Overcoming Last October\u2019s Loss for Rosa Tomalin Laugh out loud, oh lover of levity, our lingering optimism lightens our load. Observe, lover, our lashings of luxurious ornament: lilac oil, Lebanese ocarinas, legumes, oriental lanterns, oranges, lemons or limes; O listful of lissom, obdurate, lifely objects, lighting opulently like old-fashioned lamp-posts onto liveries of [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":62,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[338,339],"tags":[342],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v20.2.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Three Poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Three Poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"On Latterly Overcoming Last October\u2019s Loss for Rosa Tomalin Laugh out loud, oh lover of levity, our lingering optimism lightens our load. Observe, lover, our lashings of luxurious ornament: lilac oil, Lebanese ocarinas, legumes, oriental lanterns, oranges, lemons or limes; O listful of lissom, obdurate, lifely objects, lighting opulently like old-fashioned lamp-posts onto liveries of [&hellip;]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2017-02-11T11:00:38+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2017-03-28T11:52:07+00:00\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Joey Connolly\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Joey Connolly\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"2 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148\",\"name\":\"Three Poems - The Manchester Review\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2017-02-11T11:00:38+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2017-03-28T11:52:07+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/ac8e97415e351c32275eee0c18cf016e\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/\",\"name\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"description\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/ac8e97415e351c32275eee0c18cf016e\",\"name\":\"Joey Connolly\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"caption\":\"Joey Connolly\"},\"description\":\"Joey Connolly lives in London, where he is the manager of the Poetry Book Fair. 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Observe, lover, our lashings of luxurious ornament: lilac oil, Lebanese ocarinas, legumes, oriental lanterns, oranges, lemons or limes; O listful of lissom, obdurate, lifely objects, lighting opulently like old-fashioned lamp-posts onto liveries of [&hellip;]","og_url":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148","og_site_name":"The Manchester Review","article_published_time":"2017-02-11T11:00:38+00:00","article_modified_time":"2017-03-28T11:52:07+00:00","author":"Joey Connolly","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Joey Connolly","Est. reading time":"2 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148","url":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148","name":"Three Poems - The Manchester Review","isPartOf":{"@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website"},"datePublished":"2017-02-11T11:00:38+00:00","dateModified":"2017-03-28T11:52:07+00:00","author":{"@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/ac8e97415e351c32275eee0c18cf016e"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=7148"]}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website","url":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/","name":"The Manchester Review","description":"The Manchester Review","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":"required name=search_term_string"}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/ac8e97415e351c32275eee0c18cf016e","name":"Joey Connolly","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif","caption":"Joey Connolly"},"description":"Joey Connolly lives in London, where he is the manager of the Poetry Book Fair. 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