The poems and drawings reproduced here were sent by Penelope Fitzgerald to her daughter Fina in 1970-71 when she was an undergraduate at Oxford. The drawings were inspired by Fina’s ‘Klee/doodles’.
The Father and the Mother |
Here are two individuals who have reproduced their kind and each of them possesses both a body and a mind. They sit upon two separate chairs they sit between four walls and it was a mistake to call them individuals. |  |
The Kitchen Drawer Poem |
1. The nutcracker, the skewer, the knife, are doomed to share this drawer for life. 2. You cannot pierce, the skewer says, or cause the pain of in one place. 3. You cannot grind, you do not know, says nutcracker, the pain of slow. 4. You don’t know what it is to slice, to both of them the knife replies, 5. with pain so fine it is not pain to part what cannot join again. 6. The skewer, nutcracker, and knife are well adapted to their life. 7. They calculate efficiency by what the others cannot be 8. and power by the pain they cause and that is life in kitchen drawers. |  |
Jug Poem |
a word of advice, since the problem so seldom occurs, on the problem of not being quite a jug, and not quite a person: you can pour out your confidences only into a half-pint mug. |  |
The Two Lovers Poem |
Two lovers are thinking of Honesty, but never love. The most important thing, says he Is that we feel completely free. At home at work outside in bed Let us be honest, dear, she said. But his darling and her dear-ing Stop her seeing and his hearing. They speak of uncommittedness, They do not know they cannot guess That he and she can never part Because they share the same heart. And in this heart is something live, Like white-hot honey from the hive, But what it is they cannot see, Because they call it honesty. |  |
The White Square Letter Poem |
1. From time to time no letters came addressed correctly. He saw there was one which never came each morning punctually. 2. The curious sound a letter makes not falling on the mat not white not square he thinks he could give some idea of that. 3. The white square look a letter has not coming not again is like a square white drop of blood that runs back up the vein. 4. At 9 at 12 at 6 o’clock on Saturdays at 3 his white square letter does not come most conscientiously. |
A Lover’s Humble Request |
Look at me O solid she Pity my transparency. |  |
Arrival of a Stray Cat in the Poet’s Lodgings |
1. The cat’s whiskers are as wide as the cat from side to side – 2. – which gives it sound anticipation in an entrance situation 3. if the whiskers will pass through a hole, the cat can get out too. 4. Milk, pour, gas-fire, burn, Cat and poet have much to learn. 5. He will learn to use discretion, Pussy shall learn affection. 6. The milk pours, the shilling drops, Pussy sits and licks her chops. 7. But she has not acquired a soul and he is still in a hole. |  |
The Record Player Poem |
I am your record-player, your idiot companion, you glum I dumb you gay hey! hey! I go put Don Giovanni on you break for lunch I break for lunch I stop I Beet lunch hoven, and what I say I say the same the same the same and often your loony friend is always here why are you vexed I wonder you shout for God’s sake speak! I say the world goes round and round dear. |  |
Letter from a Creditor to a Poet |
If you do not settle the enclosed account by the 23rd I shall take away your power to express yourself through the living word your light, your gas, your air, your bedroom nine foot square your lust your tears your choice of good and evil your Biro and your refill. |  |
Self-Pity with Everything |
Grease is undignified, Vinegar’s sordid; On the back of the newspaper Someone is murdered. She was a dry-cleaner, He was a builder; He must have noticed her Just to have killed her. Yes, to get rid of you, Someone must bother – Someone must care for you One way or other.
This is self-pity in One easy lesson; And if you need it, it’s Yours with my blessing. |  |
The Later Middle Ages |
Look at me, I am a sign of the Middle Ages in decline. You evolve legs like mine by natural processes through entering fortresses up spiral staircases. |  |
An Invitation from the Poet to Visit His Lodgings at 87a Underdone Road |
if you saw this house you might not feel like coming in, but on the contrary, walking rather faster but come, come in, don’t worry about the letters in the hall, they all belong to people who were here last year. shut your eyes to what you see, your nose to the smell that is not quite urine, or Readycook dinners, or plaster. you can’t call this house a tragedy, it’s not quite up to that call it a disaster. |
Late Autumn; the Prophet at the Bus Stop |
The lighted bus towards him rolls But ’twill not stop, ’tis full of souls, And through the streaming glass they cry ‘We in you out you wet we dry’ And therefore through the streaming glass He wet he cold he looked and said And instantly it came to pass That all the passengers fell dead And there were 56 free seats, and 5 standing inside, for it was the rush hour. |  |