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Young Writers Society


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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


This Be the Verse (1974)
by Philip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mum and dad
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.


Remember when dad's shoulders were the highest place on earth and your mom was your hero? Race issues were about who ran the fastest, war was only a car game. The most pain you felt was when you skinned your knees, and good byes only meant tomorrow? And we couldn't wait to grow up.
— Unknown