Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Poetry Schmoetry

I know, I bet tons of you LOVE poetry. Some might even write it. I can't tell you how much it just does not appeal to me. Now, I am not saying that as someone who doesn't read, or hasn't explored vast amounts of poetry - I do, and I have! There are times when I walk into a library or bookstore and have a hard time deciding what I haven't read.

There are some poems I find touching or masterful, but overall, I just don't care for it. As the years have past, it seems what I do like (poetry-wise) are simple, silly poems. My favorite poet being Ogden Nash.

So for your reading pleasure, I bring you the following Ogden Nash poems:

The Lion

Oh, weep for Mr. and Mrs. Bryan!
He was eaten by a lion;
Following which, the lion's lioness
Up and swallowed Bryan's Bryaness.


The Hippopotamus

Behold the hippopotamus!
We laugh at how he looks to us,
And yet in moments dank and grim,
I wonder how we look to him.

Peace, peace, thou hippopotamus!
We really look all right to us,
As you no doubt delight the eye
Of other hippopotami.


Further Reflections On Parsley

Parsley
Is gharsley.

More About People

When people aren't asking questions
They're making suggestions
And when they're not doing one of those
They're either looking over your shoulder or stepping on your toes
And then as if that weren't enough to annoy you
They employ you.
Anybody at leisure
Incurs everybody's displeasure.
It seems to be very irking
To people at work to see other people not working,
So they tell you that work is wonderful medicine,
Just look at Firestone and Ford and Edison,
And they lecture you till they're out of breath or something
And then if you don't succumb they starve you to death or something.
All of which results in a nasty quirk:
That if you don't want to work you have to work to earn enough money so that you won't have to work.

And my personal Ogden Nash favorite:

The Middle

When I remember bygone days
I think how evening follows morn;
So many I loved were not yet dead,
So many I love were not yet born.


And now my own creation:

Rhyme It

Every poem is made of lines,
But all the lines don't have to rhyme.
Deep and thoughtful,
Full of meaning,
Hidden symbols for the gleaning.

These are things that some poems do.
They make you work to get a clue.
"Forget all that!" is what I say...
Just lay it out there anyway.

Write it,
Rhyme it,
Be clever and funny.
Poems never make much money,
So make it catchy and full of wit
And we will learn it lickety-split!

4 comments:

Melissa B. said...

Oh, but did you hear the poem in Rev. Lowery's benediction at Obama's inauguration? What a cute old man...and you have to respect his rhymes as well as his sense of humor!

Betty said...

Nice! You are a poet! I love poetry when I have time. Which is too seldom!

Gary Rith Pottery Blog said...

::guffaw!::

Lynda said...

Gary!

 
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