A Glass Half Full

by Felix Dennis

Miramax; (September 15, 2004) ISBN : 1401359531

Felix Dennis, better known as the enfant terrible of magazine publishing and one of Britain's richest men, has—astonishingly—become Britain's best-selling poet with A Glass Half Full.

American novelist and critic, Tom Wolfe, calls Dennis "a twenty-first century Kipling" and says that his poetry 'rollicks and rolls with rhyme, meter, and melody.'

Now, gathered together with an American audience in mind, together with a spoken-word CD, comes a selection of Dennis's poems.

Whether reflecting ruefully on getting older, celebrating Bob Dylan, serenading the United States or sending up the clichés and stereotypes of our times, Felix Dennis reveals himself as a poet with an eye for the tender telling detail, and a powerful gift for communication. Funny, touching, frank, and uncompromising, A Glass Half Full is a wonderful and inspiring collection.

For more information, visit
www.felixdennis.com

The following selections are from:

A Glass Half Full

by Felix Dennis


Miramax; (September 15, 2004) ISBN: 140135953

A Glass Half Empty

Stands the glass half empty,
Or stands the glass half full?
Hand me the decanter, man,
I'll take another pull.

Stevie says that waving sets
The suckers up to drown.
Well, maybe so, but never let
The Bastards grind you down.

Stands the glass half empty,
Or stands the glass half full?
Cease you bloody banter, man,
I'll take another pull.

Oscar says a sinner gets
To wear a thorny crown.
I wouldn't know, but never let
The Bastards grind you down.

Stands the glass half empty,
Or stands the glass half full?
Blast your Buddhist mantra, man,
I'll take another pull.

Oxford says who holds the nets
In silence, wins renown.
He would say so! But never let
The Bastards grind you down.

Stands the glass half empty,
Or stands the glass half full?
Hand me the decanter, man,
I'll take another pull!

Mandalay Mustique April 17, 2001

For those who read little poetry - 'Stevie' is Stevie Smith; 'Oscar' is Oscar Wilde, of course, and 'Oxford' is Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford.


Telling Lies

All the angels up in heaven
Hang their shining heads to cry;
Even Santa Claus grows solemn
When you tell your mum a lie.

And the fairies in the garden
Who leave silver for your tooth,
They will whisper, if you ask them:
'Always tell your mum the truth'.

If you don't believe in fairies,
Or that reindeer ever flew,
You might murmur three Hail Mary's
For the lies your mum told you.

Dorsington, Warwickshire May 7, 2001

The Bearded Dwarf

There's them as plan and them as chance
And them as rather walk than dance,
There's them as never leaves the shore,
But me, I've always seized an oar,
A mate or two on either side
To set our backs against the tide,
Not knowing where our prow might touch,
Nor turning round, nor caring much.

Strange it is for them as row,
Never seeing where they go,
While lubbers Nelson couldn't teach
Shout out instructions from the beach -
Dry-sailors with their spread-sheet screens
Who count the cost of pork and beans,
New chandlers with their silly lists
Saluting flags and analysts.

I've sailed the ship, I've owned the line,
I've swilled on bilge and drunk fine wine,
I've paced the bloody jetty, too,
Not knowing how I'd pay the crew.
I've sailed at dawn without a plan,
Faced mutiny and 'ung a man,
('ung more than one, if truth be told);
I've stacked the decks with blood and gold
Paid out upon the barrel-head
(With widows and their orphans fed
Most scrupulous, 'cash money down' -
I'm quite the thing in Portsmouth Town).

There's men whose backs I 'ad to flay
Who'll tell you I worked 'ard as they,
Stood my watch and stood with ease
While younger men went on their knees;
And though the seas we sail aren't salt,
And though I'm not without some fault,
They line along Canary wharf
To sail upon the Bearded Dwarf.

And why? Is it to learn a trade
Or all the filthy gelt we've made?
To 'elp convert our 'eathen kin
Or bang out weevils in a tin?
No sir! It's just they love to mock
The Royal Navy, lock and stock,
To never 'ave to kneel and cow -
Or curtsey on the starboard bow.

There's not a Navy ship that sails
Could 'ope to catch the Dwarf's coat tails,
(Unless, the crew was drunk, the sods -
And then I'd give 'em even odds
'Gainst toady jacks who buff the brass
Or kiss the first lieutenant's arse).

No sir! I'd rather starve afloat
Than scoff swill in a Navy boat,
A measly pint of grog a day
And 'Christmas pud on Christmas Day'
If you've behaved - then forced to sing
Like choirboys: 'God Save The King!'

"So up my lads, we're glory bound,
The tide is turning on the Sound,
There's native girls with luscious lips
And nowt but grass upon their hips,
There's Spanish Dons, the old buffoons,
Their fat tubs stuffed with gold doubloons.
Strange stars there are in Southern skies -
Am I a man who'd tell you lies...?

* * *
Line up along Canary wharf:

Sign up to sail the Bearded Dwarf!"

New York City February 12, 2002

Dedicated with heartfelt thanks to all those shipmates who have toiled aboard The Bearded Dwarf these past 30 years. She's a fine barky, made finer still by the exceptional talent of the men and women who have crewed her, past and present. I never was much of a captain, I know that. But at least I had the sense to place her in seamanlike hands and retreat to the owner's cabin. (Well, for most of the time, anyway!)

An Old Dog is The Best Dog

An old dog is the best dog,
A dog with rheumy eyes;
An old dog is the best dog
A dog grown sad and wise,
Not one who snaps at bubbles,
Nor one who barks at nowt,
A dog who knows your troubles,
A dog to see you out.

An old bitch is the best bitch,
Not pups to fetch your sticks;
An old bitch is the best bitch,
Not one to teach new tricks,
Not one who's up and leaping,
But one whose coat is grey,
Leg's twitching while she's sleeping
In dreams of yesterday.

Mandalay, Mustique August 10, 2001

Copyright 2004 Felix Dennis