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Pastimes : New Feelies, Sort of, For Anyone who Feels Like a Feelie -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Ilaine who wrote (437)	1/12/2000 11:37:00 PM
From: E	Respond to of 485

A humane Materialist at the Burning of a Heretic When shall that fuel fed fire grown fatter Burn to consumption and a pitter patter Of soft ash falling in a formless scatter Telling Mind's death in a dump of Matter. ~Stevie Smith~ [There's a wonderful one written on the death of her dog. I'm going to see if I can find it on the net. A little long not to paste.]

To: Ilaine who wrote (437)	1/12/2000 11:53:00 PM
From: E	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 485

I can't find the one I was looking for, but this is more Stevie Smith. Like a knife in the heart, her poems can be. She is so witty, and so dark, and so bitter, and also often so funny. Bereavement Maria Holt Was not the dolt That people thought her. Her face was full Her mind not dull She was my daughter. She had so much to do so very much And used to shuffle round upon a crutch, The younger children always called her mother, And so she was to sister and to brother Poor wretch she's dead and now I am bereft Of 60 pounds each year to fill the place she left I never paid a cent before; it is too bad, It's worse to lose a lass than lose a lad. ~Stevie Smith~