An amazing find: Recently Discovered Douglas Adams Poetry Written by Adams when he was 17 in fulfillment of an entrance requirement to a literary club, Candlesticks, the poem had to be about a candle and had to be assessed as acceptable. It was. This is a great find and absolutely brilliant. In our College Prep English class (abacus-es/eie/advancedwriting.html) we examined it for structure, theme and devices. A Dissertation on the task of writing a poem on a candle and an account of some of the difficulties thereto pertaining by Douglas Adams, January 1970 I resisted temptation for this declamation To reach out to literary height For high aspiration in such an oration Would seem quite remarkably trite: So I thought something pithy and succinct and clever Was exactly the right thing to write. For nights I sat musing And musing ... and musing Whilst burning the midnight oil; My scratchings seemed futile My muse seemed quite mute, while My work proved to be barren toil. I puzzled and thought and wrestled and fought Till my midnight oil was exhausted, So I furthered my writing by dim candle lighting, And found, to my joy, this of course did The trick, for I flowered, My work - candle-powered – Was inspired, both witty and slick. Pithy and polished, my writing demolished Much paper, as I beguiled Myself with some punning, (My word play was stunning,) I wrote with the wit of a Wilde. At length it was finished, the candle diminished, I pondered and let my pride burn At the great acclamation, the standing ovation Its first public reading would earn. But lost in the rapture of anticipation And thinking how great was my brilliant creation I quite failed to note as I gazed into space That incendiary things were about to take place: That which had ignited my literary passion, Was about to ignite what my passion had fashiond. And - oh! - all was lost in a great conflagration And I just sat there and said Hell and damnation, For the rest of the night and the following day. (My muse in the meantime had flitted away Alarmed, no doubt, at the ornamentation My language acquired with increased consternation. So unhaply the fruits of my priceless endeavour Are lost to the literary world forever. For now I offer this poem instead, Which explains in itself why the others unsaid.
Posted on: Sat, 03 May 2014 15:12:15 +0000
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