My sweet old etcetera

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Talking to Leslie about e.e.cummings after our post “How can you tell it’s a poem?”   reminded us of this old favourite:

‘my sweet old etcetera’

my sweet old etcetera
aunt lucy during the recent

war could and what
is more did tell you just
what everybody was fighting

for,
my sister

Isabel created hundreds
(and
hundreds) of socks not to
mention fleaproof earwarmers
etcetera wristers etcetera, my
mother hoped that

i would die etcetera
bravely of course my father used
to become hoarse talking about how it was
a privilege and if only he
could meanwhile my

self etcetera lay quietly
in the deep mud et

cetera
(dreaming,
et
cetera, of
Your smile
eyes knees and of your Etcetera)

 

Image: pixabay

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6 thoughts on “My sweet old etcetera

    1. I think that’s the idea. Everyone who’s not at the war has an opinion and high-sounding sentiments, but the poor bunny who actually is there, in the mud, is just dreaming of the ordinary things a teenage boy dreams of . And it’s deliberately unpoetic in its approach, to bring war down out of the clouds to its mundane and ugly self.

      Liked by 1 person

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