my car is yellow. My 'black' cat is yellow. My children come in from playing outside and they're yellow. We don't have allergies so much as having eyes glued shut from all the RIDICULOUS POLLEN! WHO SAID PLANTING MORE TREES WAS A GOOD THING? HM? Someone who had light colored furniture, that's who.
Who wrote it? Why, I did, about 15 years ago. It was an attempt to compose the worst poem in the world.
In fact I made it up stanza by stanza during a night-time car journey between Nice and Paris. Every time I came up with a new verse I recited it, whereupon the driver would laugh so hard as to momentarily lose control of the vehicle.
There was an ode to winter too, which never got beyond the first stanza:
Now winter is approaching As fast as Alain Prost Now's the time our private parts Are bitten by Jack Frost.
Anything after that would have been a disappointment.
OK, I checked the link, and that was some pretty abysmal versifying, and no mistake. Mine would have been right up there, though, if only people didn't know that I was doing it on purpose.
Here's something sweeter:
My ardent love reaps incredulity; that is: all know the truth of it but her who most I was determined should aver the sorrow she decided not to see.
Can you, Great Beauty, Perjured Loyalty, look in my eyes yet see no passion stir? Were not my stars so much the mightier I’d take the rich rewards you owe to me.
This flame of which you hardly feel the heat, these honours that I bring to you in rhyme might, as I think, inspire a thousand souls;
and my mind’s eye discerns, oh Light so Sweet, a tongue grown cold, two eyes closed for all time remaining after us to glow like coals
Can we outlaw pollen? 'Cause I could get behind that.
ReplyDeleteZyrtec is my friend...
ReplyDeletemy car is yellow. My 'black' cat is yellow. My children come in from playing outside and they're yellow. We don't have allergies so much as having eyes glued shut from all the RIDICULOUS POLLEN! WHO SAID PLANTING MORE TREES WAS A GOOD THING? HM? Someone who had light colored furniture, that's who.
ReplyDelete"WHO SAID PLANTING MORE TREES WAS A GOOD THING? HM? Someone who had light colored furniture, that's who."
ReplyDeleteahahahahahahahhahahahahahaha
Was the post title a reference to this, I wonder?
ReplyDeleteWinter isicummen is,
Lhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ream!
Sing: goddam
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham,
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
Damn you sing: goddam
Goddamn, goddamn, ‘tis why I am, goddam
So ‘gainst the winter’s balm.
Sing goddam, damn, sing goddam,
Sing goddamn, sing goddamn, damn
-Ezra Pound
no. ezra pound can suck my antihistamine
ReplyDeleteSpring Poem for Belledame
ReplyDeleteNow summer is approaching
And winter's in retreat
Now's the time it gets quite warm
And birds go tweety-tweet.
It's now that sits and grooms himself
The solitary fox
And licks the country goodness off
His little cotton socks.
It's now the squirrel gathers
A big supply of nuts
And in a secret place he them
Industriously puts.
It's now the solemn farmer
Makes the rustic milkmaid sing
For he's told her she can put at last
Her finger through his ring.
Now summer is approaching
And winter's in retreat
Now's the time it gets quite warm
And birds go tweety-tweet.
-Tom Nolan
Yeah, I'm a Zyrtec worshipper too...but I can't say I'm not glad the cold is over. This is the best time of year for folks with arthritis.
ReplyDeleteyeah i know. kvetch, kvetch. it's beautiful out n all, and i should be out in it.
ReplyDeleteTN: thanks, who wrote it?
ReplyDeleteWho wrote it? Why, I did, about 15 years ago. It was an attempt to compose the worst poem in the world.
ReplyDeleteIn fact I made it up stanza by stanza during a night-time car journey between Nice and Paris. Every time I came up with a new verse I recited it, whereupon the driver would laugh so hard as to momentarily lose control of the vehicle.
There was an ode to winter too, which never got beyond the first stanza:
Now winter is approaching
As fast as Alain Prost
Now's the time our private parts
Are bitten by Jack Frost.
Anything after that would have been a disappointment.
oh, you've got a long way to go to beat the worst poet in the world. are you familiar with Amanda McKitrick Ros? or the cheese poet?
ReplyDeleteOK, I checked the link, and that was some pretty abysmal versifying, and no mistake. Mine would have been right up there, though, if only people didn't know that I was doing it on purpose.
ReplyDeleteHere's something sweeter:
My ardent love reaps incredulity;
that is: all know the truth of it but her
who most I was determined should aver
the sorrow she decided not to see.
Can you, Great Beauty, Perjured Loyalty,
look in my eyes yet see no passion stir?
Were not my stars so much the mightier
I’d take the rich rewards you owe to me.
This flame of which you hardly feel the heat,
these honours that I bring to you in rhyme
might, as I think, inspire a thousand souls;
and my mind’s eye discerns, oh Light so Sweet,
a tongue grown cold, two eyes closed for all time
remaining after us to glow like coals
Canzoniere 203 (trans. Tom Nolan)
In my view one and all should browse on this.
ReplyDelete