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Families, like countries, take their prophets unkindly, but a verse-speaker in the house is dishonor to be hooted.

Dylan Thomas

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Dylan Thomas
Age: 39 †
Born: 1914
Born: October 27
Died: 1953
Died: November 9
Author
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Abertawe
Dylan Marlais Thomas
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Prophet
Hooted
Families
Unkindly
Countries
Dishonor
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Verse

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This poem has been called obscure. I refuse to believe that it is obscurer than pity, violence, or suffering. But being a poem, not a lifetime, it is more compressed.
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The photograph is married to the eye, Grafts on its bride one-sided skins of truth.
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... Rebel against the flesh and bone, The word of the blood, the wily skin, And the maggot no man can slay.
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He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest.
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In the beginning was the word, the word That from the solid bases of the light Abstracted all the letters of the void.
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And death shall have no dominion. Under the windings of the sea They lying long shall not die windily Twisting on racks when sinews give way, Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break Faith in their hands shall snap in two, And the unicorn evils run them through Split all ends up they shan't crack And death shall have no dominion.
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You wouldn't think such a place as San Francisco could exist. The wonderful sunlight there, the hills, the great bridges, the Pacific at your shoes. Beautiful Chinatown. Every race in the world. The sardine fleets sailing out. The little cable-cars whizzing down The City hills. And all the people are open and friendly.
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Let the dry eyes perceive Others betray the lamenting lies of their losses By the curve of the nude mouth or the laugh up the sleeve.
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[I'm]a freak user of words, not a poet.
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Beginning with doom in the bulb, the spring unravels.
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