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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 4 of 4. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Cass on June 10, 2009, at 23:02:12
I identify with this poem. I'm feeling very sad today.
Not Waving but DrowningBY STEVIE SMITH
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now hes dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Posted by Phillipa on June 10, 2009, at 23:49:34
In reply to Stevie Smith poem, posted by Cass on June 10, 2009, at 23:02:12
Cass sorry you're feeling down. Really I am. I think quite a few don't feel well lately. Lets hope we can help each other. Love Phillipa
Posted by alexandra_k on June 11, 2009, at 1:50:39
In reply to Re: Stevie Smith poem » Cass, posted by Phillipa on June 10, 2009, at 23:49:34
yeah, that is one of my favorite poems.
i often think 'my bog is dood' as well.
its been a while...
but i never will forget.
Posted by alexandra_k on June 11, 2009, at 5:59:13
In reply to Re: Stevie Smith poem, posted by alexandra_k on June 11, 2009, at 1:50:39
Stevie Smith - Our Bog is Dood
Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood,
They lisped in accents mild,
But when I asked them to explain
They grew a little wild.
How do you know your Bog is dood
My darling little child?We know because we wish it so
That is enough, they cried,
And straight within each infant eye
Stood up the flame of pride,
And if you do not think it so
You shall be crucified.Then tell me, darling little ones,
What's dood, suppose Bog is?
Just what we think, the answer came,
Just what we think it is.
They bowed their heads. Our Bog is ours
And we are wholly his.But when they raised them up again
They had forgotten me
Each one upon each other glared
In pride and misery
For what was dood, and what their Bog
They never could agree.Oh sweet it was to leave them then,
And sweeter not to see,
And sweetest of all to walk alone
Beside the encroaching sea,
The sea that soon should drown them all,
That never yet drowned me.___________________
I wonder if she wrote not waving but drowning after that.
I'm sorry you are feeling sad today.
This is the end of the thread.
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