This poem is taken from PN Review 125, Volume 25 Number 3, January - February 1999.

Twentieth-century Dream

Matthew Francis

1900-1909

I am in a darkened lecture-hall
watching a magic-lantern picture
of my own head. We are all
analysing my thoughts. Freud is there,
so we watch carefully as the scene
becomes the dust and flames of a war.
As oxcarts roll, you can see my brain
turning the images into neat
haiku-like poems, What do they mean,
Freud asks, try to remember. But

1910-1919

I am setting off on a journey
in a great rush of snow to the Pole.
Captain Scott is trudging beside me
when his boot gets stuck. He tries to pull
and the whole foot comes off. A band plays
Abide With Me as I watch him topple
into the wet. Then I realize
...

The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue':

If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.

If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 289 issues containing over 11,600 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?

Searching, please wait...