Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Tuesday Poem: "Money" by Philip Larkin



Quarterly, is it, money reproaches me:
‘Why do you let me lie here wastefully?

I am all you never had of goods and sex.

You could get them still by writing a few cheques.’


So I look at others, what they do with theirs:

They certainly don’t keep it upstairs.

By now they’ve a second house and car and wife:

Clearly money has something to do with life


– In fact, they’ve a lot in common, if you enquire:

You can’t put off being young until you retire,

And however you bank your screw, the money you save

Won’t in the end buy you more than a shave.


I listen to money singing. It’s like looking down

From long French windows at a provincial town,

The slums, the canal, the churches ornate and mad

In the evening sun. It is intensely sad.



by Philip Larkin



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1 comment:

  1. Sad, mad bad and glad- ah'm so happy its bin sa[i]d.

    ReplyDelete