Wendy Cope

I went into Waterstone's at lunch today. Readers of my blog, be not alarmed. I did not break resolution one, I promise. Instead, I spent a few minutes dreaming away in the travel guidebook section, before heading over to poetry. There, I chanced upon a book of poems by Wendy Cope. And was soon chuckling away to myself. Now I know where to go for a lunch-break pick-me-up.

Here are two pithy poems by Cope that got my attention in the shop:

Loss

The day he moved out was terrible – 

That evening she went through hell.

His absence wasn’t a problem

But the corkscrew had gone as well.

Haiku

A perfect white wine


is sharp, sweet and cold as this:


birdsong in winter.

And another couple I found later, digging around on the internet. The simplicity of the analogy in 'Bloody Men' gives it its power, while the simple pleasure described in 'The Orange' made me smile in agreement, its final line an everyday thanksgiving: I love you. I'm glad I exist.

Bloody Men

Bloody men are like bloody buses —

You wait for about a year

And as soon as one approaches your stop

Two or three others appear.

You look at them flashing their indicators,

Offering you a ride.

You’re trying to read the destinations,

You haven’t much time to decide.

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.

Jump off, and you’ll stand there and gaze

While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by

And the minutes, the hours, the days.

The Orange

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—


The size of it made us all laugh.


I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—


They got quarters and I got a half.



And that orange, it made me so happy,

As ordinary things often do


Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.


This is peace and contentment. It's new.



The rest of the day was quite easy.


I did all the jobs on my list


And enjoyed them and had some time over.


I love you. I'm glad I exist.