Festive poetry with a hint of zest.

(Not really about poetry.)

I have found a very simple way to improve any famous poem. My method adds depth, nuance, ambiguity and forces readers to consider some of the English language’s finest bards in a new light.

Observe.

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est
pro patria mori
And Greg Dyke in the shadows.

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
And Greg Dyke in the shadows

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And Greg Dyke in the shadows.

Altogether elsewhere, vast
Herds of reindeer move across
Miles and miles of golden moss,
Silently and very fast.
And Greg Dyke in the shadows.

This is the way the world ends,
Not with a bang but a whimper
And Greg Dyke in the shadows.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.
And Greg Dyke in the shadows.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
And Greg Dyke in the shadows.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
And Greg Dyke in the shadows.

And so I’m not accused of ignoring my own works:

Like an arid mountain avalanche would sound,
Boulders of all sizes landsliding in chaos down
Drumming the ground and quaking the earth
Deeper rumbles and higher pings,
The odd scream or mutter.
And Greg Dyke in the shadows.

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