Not so long ago I wrote about Faded Advertising. It’s sad, but I can still recall commercial jingles from my youth. For example, “When you taste Erin Soups, you know right away that the sweet taste of goodness is coming your way. Get the flavour, taste the greatness of Erin’s special way. It’s a world that’s full of goodness. Erin’s wonderful world!”
I also realized that my head is full of ghostly bits and pieces of poems I learned at school. There are so many fragments and so few complete poems…
Dirty British Coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days
With a cargo of Tyne coal
Road rail, pig lead
Fire wood, iron-ware and cheap tin trays.
[From John Masefield’s Cargoes]
Why, oh why, with all the beautiful poetry in this world, do lines like these remain forever implanted in my brain?
What verses are indelibly implanted in you?