Tagged: ogden nash

Poem: Newsflash!

Pay attention urgent alert this matters more than anything that’s ever been on any screen in someone’s pocket  this is the news bombs are falling somewhere in a distant town the mother-in-law still sports a frown weak-chinned tyrants wear a sequined gown and so much more so many rhymes and shmazzle and music and flooneyooney...

The Ballad of the Barclay Boys

Oh, what a glorious life my uncles have had! Born to the manor these two fine brothers, Whose servants sheltered them from feeling sad, Or foolishly acting too kindly to others.   Natural twins from the start, they twinned all through life, The Harvard® and clerkships and China Bank™. Jason got married; George needed a...

Poem: Hurry Up and Wait

We’re told by those who know such things that commencement came explosively, instantaneously and corrosively. Gas spewed, dust swirled, and — voila — light brings Life to a dark and icy place, where microscopic cells could not stay together, splitting and dividing no matter whether they were designed by God and touched by grace. This...

Poem: Doggerel

May your days be hairy, and bright. And may all your puppy dogs be white. I’m dreaming of a white puppy Just like the ones I used to pet Where the Labs are wagging And the hounds are dragging Their ears, blithely to the vet. I’m dreaming of a white puppy With every furry friend...

Poem: Quatrains

According to the primers, resolute and stout Three patterns are permissible when writing quatrains out. ABAB, AABB, and AAAA Are proper forms, no matter how passe.   The scanning lines, we’re told, should always add to four Not two, not three, and certainly not more. Transgressions bold, though heartfelt at the core Will turn the...

Poem: Homonym

Depending on where you put the stress Early or late Or, when feeling critical, in the middle, The meaning changes.   First you can’t move as you wish. Then it’s not right.   Invalid.

Poem: High Culture

Plato wrote about a cave Mr. Wren designed a nave: Would it be so wrong to sing a song Wearing nothing but a bright blue thong? Drama draws the geriatrics Attending matinee theatrics: Could we frankly say about a play It shan’t succeed if they won’t pay? King Tut’s remains have been a hit with...

Poem: Song of the Misanthrope

Because the center of the universe can be located easily the anthem I pen is naturally of me: I did this and I did that, throw in a semi-automatic rat-a-tat-tat — and now you’ve got a song for radio, Which rhymes conveniently with “ho,” a word to which I’m well accustomed, unlike instruments I’ve never...