Poems

Chapter 34: DEAF HOUSE AGENT

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About This Book

A lyrical collection of short poems grouped by creative periods, ranging from intimate sketches of domestic and childhood moments to meditations on nature, the sea, love, loss, and memory. Many pieces blend concise, imagistic language with prose-like rhythms, alternating playful child verses and delicate elegies, and often evoke sensory detail—light, wind, flowers, and seaside landscapes—to explore fleeting moods and inward reflection. Several poems record quiet domestic scenes and grieving recollections, while others experiment with voice and form, producing both whimsical and mournful tones. The result is an intimate, varied sequence that emphasizes emotion, perception, and the small gestures that shape inner life.

DEAF HOUSE AGENT

That deaf old man
With his hand to his ear—
His hand to his head stood out like a shell,
Horny and hollow. He said, “I can’t hear,”
He muttered, “Don’t shout,
I can hear very well!”
He mumbled, “I can’t catch a word;
I can’t follow.”
Then Jack with a voice like a Protestant bell
Roared—“Particulars! Farmhouse! At 10 quid a year!”
“I dunno wot place you are talking about,”
Said the deaf old man.
Said Jack, “What the Hell!”

But the deaf old man took a pin from his desk, picked a piece of wool the size of a hen’s egg from his ear, had a good look at it, decided in its favour and replaced it in the aforementioned organ.

1914.