DALI IN LONDON

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DALI  IN  LONDON

I saw on the London South Bank
This statue and to be quite frank,
I thought it bizarre,
Something from a bazaar;
Surely this is the work of a crank?

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I was told I had Dali to thank
Surely a bit of a prank?
This mammoth in metal
My sight did unsettle –
Where taste goes I’m thick as a plank.

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However that soon was outdone
By a dripping watch out in the sun;
Called ‘Nobility Of Time’,
Which hardly did chime
With Big Ben, England’s favourite son.

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But then on this old riverbank
Another sight this did outflank,
A torso was carved
In two it was halved.
From exploring further I shrank.

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Now I know you’re a self-publicist
And your paintings I love them to bits.
Senor  Dali, please choose;
You’ve nothing to lose
If you want to stay off my blacklist.

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Photographs, apart from the top one of Dali himself, and the one of the clock, were taken by me in 2002.  The Exhibition of Dali’s work, previously housed in the old London County Hall, is now closed and the exhibits, one of the most extensive collections of Dali’s work in different media, are currently, I understand, awaiting a new venue.

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ALL MY LOVE

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Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones … ‘Love Among The Ruins’  1894  …   Wightwick Manor, West Midlands, National Trust, UK.

ALL MY LOVE

I cannot promise ‘All my Love’;
It’s not that I don’t care,
But love is not a hollow word;
What love I have I share.

My love for family and friends, 
That cannot be degraded;
That still will be a part of me
When other loves have faded.

There is a love of all mankind
Which brings a certitude
That life’s not just for you and me,
But nature’s plenitude.

There is a love that touches me,
A love of all creation,
Recalls for me such longing and
Sustains my inspiration.

There is a love that teaches me
To think of others first;
To curb those venial thoughts I have
My nature at its worst.

There is a love beseeches me
To face up to my errors;
To open up my damaged heart
Confront my hidden terrors.

There is a love which reaches me
Across the mighty ocean;
That gives to me a lasting hope,
A clutching at emotion.

There is a love of life itself,
A love I hold and cherish,
And pray for strength to face its end
When at last I perish.

There is love which distresses me,
Seeks more than I can give;
Demands I offer up my soul,
Smothers the life I live.

That selfish love, demanding all,
I still cannot allow;
For love’s an abstruse concept and
Mine is prescribed now.

All these are loves I’m asked to give,
Demanding that I care,
But I have only so much and
I have no love to spare.

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Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones … ‘Love Song’  1868-1877  …  Metropolitan Museum Of Art, New York, USA.

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