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Rupert Wanted Surrender

        Rupert Wanted Surrender                 “Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate.                   Love sells the proud heart’s citadel to fate.”~ Rupert Brooke Would women be as likely as a man To write such sentiments, to think of love As breaching...

Poetry Saved by Photographs and Words of Memory

Poetry Saved by Photographs and Words of Memory It hardly matters if his verse is great, Carved lines, bronze poetry, immortal stuff, Or not.  Brooke’s like a surfer on the spate Of swollen wave tops.  Killing beauty’s tough. It lingers on in culture’s core.  His face...

On the Rubbish Heap of Time . . .

          On the Rubbish Heap of Time . . .  The one he loved the most was Charles Lascelles. We have to take Brooke’s word for it that he Was beautiful.  As Rugby tower bells Rang out the hours, a passion rhymed with glee Pumped hard inside the future poet, hard...

Not Religion but Death

                   Not Religion but Death At first church fame held up his lines to heights Near immortality.  Saint Paul’s robed Dean Had read “The Soldier” in the lectern rites Of Christ’s domed space before the altar screen. It seems that Brooke knew this. ...