Proper Beginnings

I felt it only appropriate that my first post would be one of the very first poems that managed to hatch itself onto my memory for years to come. It is written by Stevie Smith, who I personally feel, has never received the fame she deserves for her unique ability to write simple and light verses with a chillingly serious undertone.

Not Waving but Drowning

by Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,   

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought   

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larkinglarking Playing tricks, kidding, fooling around.

And now he’s dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,   

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always   

(Still the dead one lay moaning)   

I was much too far out all my life   

And not waving but drowning.