‘Man who is a serious novel would like to hear from a woman who is a poem’ (classified advertisement, New York Review of Books)
Dear Serious Novel,I am a terse assured lyric with impeccable rhythmic flow, some apt and original metaphors, and a music that is all my own. Some people say I am…
"I think it’s a question which particularly arises over women writers: whether it’s better to have a happy life or a good supply of tragic plots."
— Wendy Cope (via the-little-darkling)
"The day he moved out was terrible -
That evening she went through hell.
His absence wasn’t a problem
But the corkscrew had gone as well."
That evening she went through hell.
His absence wasn’t a problem
But the corkscrew had gone as well."
— Wendy Cope; Loss (via oneteapleaseandthankyou)
"He tells her that the earth is flat —
He knows the facts and that is that.
In altercations fierce and long
She tries her best to prove him wrong.
But he has learned to argue well.
He calls her arguments unsound
And often asks her not to yell.
She cannot win. He stands his ground.
The planet goes on being round."
He knows the facts and that is that.
In altercations fierce and long
She tries her best to prove him wrong.
But he has learned to argue well.
He calls her arguments unsound
And often asks her not to yell.
She cannot win. He stands his ground.
The planet goes on being round."
— He Tells Her by Wendy Cope (via lisanowacki)
"
Valentine
My heart has made its mind up
And I’m afraid it’s you.
Whatever you’ve got lined up,
My heart has made its mind up
And if you can’t be signed up
This year, next year will do.
My heart has made its mind up
And I’m afraid it’s you.
— Wendy Cope
"
Mr Strugnell
‘This was Mr Strugnell’s room,’ she’ll say,
And look down at the lumpy, single bed.
‘He stayed her up until he went away
And kept his bicycle out in that shed.
‘He had a job at Norwood library -
He was a quiet sort who liked to read -
Dick Francis mostly, and some poetry -
He liked John Betjeman very much indeed
‘But no Pam Ayres or even Patience Strong -
He’d change the subject if I mentioned them,
Or say, “It’s time for me to run along -
Your taste’s too highbrow for me, Mrs. M.”
‘And up he’d go and listen to that jazz.
I don’t mind telling you it was a bore -
Few things in the house have been as tiresome as
The sound of his foot tapping on the floor.
‘He didn’t seem the sort for being free
With girls or going out and having fun.
He had a funny turn in ‘sixty-three
And ran round shouting “Yippee! It’s begun.”
‘I don’t know what he meant but after that
He had a different look, much more relaxed.
Some nights he’d come in late, too tired to chat,
As if he had been somewhat overtaxed.
‘And now he’s gone. He said he found Tulse Hill
Too stimulating - wanted somewhere dull.
At last he’s found a place that fits the bill -
Enjoying perfect boredom up in Hull.”
—
-Wendy Cope, Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis
(As today is the 25th anniversary of Philip Larkin’s death. And I do love Wendy Cope.)
Giving Up Smoking
There’s not a Shakespeare sonnet
Or a Beethoven quartet
That’s easier to like than you
Or harder to forget.
You think that sounds extravagant?
I haven’t finished yet -
I like you more than I would like
To have a cigarette.
I do love Wendy Cope.
"
Flowers
Some men never think of it.
You did. You’d come along
And say you nearly brought me flowers
But something had gone wrong.
The shop was closed. Or you had doubts -
The sort that minds like ours
Dream up incessantly. You thought
I might not want your flowers.
It made me smile and hug you then.
Now I can only smile.
But, look, the flowers you nearly brought
Have lasted all this while.
— Wendy Cope, Two Cures for Love
"
Loss
The day he moved out was terrible -
That evening she went through hell.
His absence wasn’t a problem
But the corkscrew had gone as well.
— Wendy Cope, Two Cures for Love
"
Defining the Problem
I can’t forgive you. Even if I could,
You wouldn’t pardon me for seeing through you.
And yet I cannot cure myself of love
For what I thought you were before I knew you.
— Wendy Cope, Two Cures for Love
