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Weekly poetry thread

Aunt Dora Baggins

Dec 6 2012, 1:33pm

Post #1 of 10 (574 views)
Weekly poetry thread Can't Post

For some reason this week Walt Kelly popped into my head. I grew up reading his Pogo comic strip; my dad had lots of his books, and as an adult I got my own collection. His folksy strip was set in the Okefenokee swamp, and featured Pogo Possum, Howland Owl, Churchy la Femme the turtle, Albert Alligator, and other swampland creatures. It was often hysterically funny, but also very serious at times. He took on Senator Joe McCarthy (known in the strip as Simple J. Malarkey) and was instrumental in bringing him down. He is probably best known for his quote "We have met the enemy and he is us."

Here are a few of my favorite Walt Kelly poems:

Mistress Flurry

Mistress Flurry likes to worry,
Rises early, feeling surly.
There's no cure, for she is sure
That life will be the death of she.
Best to worry, Mistress Flurry.

For Lewis Carroll and the Children

The gentle journey jars to stop.
The drifting dream is done.
The long gone goblins loom ahead;
The deadly, that we thought were dead,
Stand waiting, every one.

The Prince of Pompadoodle

The Prince of Pompadoodle
Lived behind a castle wall,
Behind a moat, behind a guard
Of twenty soldiers tall.

The Prince of Pompadoodle
Was the safest man alive.
Each day he wrote how long heíd lived
And multiplied by five.

The Prince of Pompadoodle
Would survive, he did decide,
Five times as long as he had been
Alive before he died.

The Prince of Pompadoodle
Called in the castle sage
For his advice in this pursuit
Of long and fulsome age.

The Prince of Pompadoodle
Heard in horror from this friend
That somewhere in the palace
Was a cur whoíd seek his end!

The Prince of Pompadoodle
Scarce could credit a belief
His years might soon be sneaked away
By some ungrateful thief.
- - - - - - - - -
The Prince of Pompadoodle
Sent his every friend away
And sat alone, safe, locked alive,
To count another day.

The Prince of Pompadoodle
May hoard each empty hour,
But none can know; no word comes from
The silent, stony tower.

"For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo; on a large wastebasket. Dora was Drogo's sister, and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century."
"A Chance Meeting at Rivendell" and other stories

leleni at hotmail dot com

(This post was edited by Aunt Dora Baggins on Dec 6 2012, 1:39pm)


Dec 6 2012, 3:27pm

Post #2 of 10 (394 views)
coughs and colds... [In reply to] Can't Post

Loved the Prince of Pompadoodle!
I've been dodging kids sneezes and coughs this week, made me think of this poem, Little Boy Blue by Darren Sardelli

Little Boy Blue,
please cover your nose.
You sneezed on Miss Muffet
and ruined her clothes.
You sprayed Mother Hubbard
and now she is sick.
You put out the fire
on Jackís candle stick.
Your sneeze is the reason
why Humpty fell down.
You drenched Yankee Doodle
when he came to town.
The blind mice are angry!
The sheep are upset!
From now on use tissues
so no one gets wet!

Aunt Dora Baggins

Dec 6 2012, 3:43pm

Post #3 of 10 (376 views)
Now that reminds me of another favorite Ogden Nash: [In reply to] Can't Post

Winter Complaint

Now when I have a cold
I am careful with my cold,
I consult a physician
And I do as I am told.
I muffle up my torso
In woolly woolly garb,
And I quaff great flagons
Of sodium bicarb.
I munch on aspirin,
I lunch on water,
And I wouldnít dream of osculating
Anybodyís daughter,
And to anybodyís son
I wouldnít say howdy,
For I am a sufferer
Magna cum laude.
I donít like germs,
But Iíll keep the germs Iíve got.
Will I take a chance of spreading them?
Definitely not.
I sneeze out the window
And I cough up the flue,
And I live like a hermit
Till the germs get through.
And because Iím considerate,
Because Iím wary,
I am treated by my friends
Like Typhoid Mary.

Now when you have a cold
You are careless with your cold,
You are cocky as a gangster
Who has just been paroled.
You ignore your physician,
You eat steaks and oxtails,
You stuff yourself with starches,
You drink lots of cocktails,
And you claim that gargling
Is a time of waste,
And you wonít take soda
For you donít like the taste,
And you prowl around parties
Full of selfish bliss,
And greet your hostess
With a genial kiss.
You convert yourself
Into a deadly missle,
You exhale Helloís
Like a steamboat wistle.
You sneeze in the subway
And you cough at dances,
And let everybody else
Take their own good chances.
Youíre a bronchial boor,
A bacterial blighter,
And you get more invitations
Than a gossip writer.

Yes, your throat is froggy,
And your eyes are swimmy,
And you hand is clammy,
And you nose is brimmy,
But you woo my girls
And their hearts you jimmy
While I sit here
With the cold you gimmy.
Ogden Nash

"For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo; on a large wastebasket. Dora was Drogo's sister, and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century."
"A Chance Meeting at Rivendell" and other stories

leleni at hotmail dot com


Dec 6 2012, 5:17pm

Post #4 of 10 (357 views)
I agree! [In reply to] Can't Post

I wish others would keep their sniffles to themselves, a great poem!

wendy woo

Dec 7 2012, 7:18am

Post #5 of 10 (352 views)
I'm in a "merry" Christmas mood, so how about a little song from the Dr.? [In reply to] Can't Post

Seuss, that is.

I watched this the other day, and I'd forgotten how much I like it!

by Dr. Seuss

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel,
Mr. Grinch.
You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel!

You're a monster, Mr. Grinch.
Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders,
You've got garlic in your soul,
Mr. Grinch.
I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-half foot pole!

You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch.
You have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile,
Mr. Grinch.
Given the choice between the two of you, I'd take the seasick crocodile!

You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch.
You're a nasty, wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks,
Your soul is full of gunk,
Mr. Grinch.
The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote, STINK, STANK, STUNK!

You're a rotter, Mr. Grinch.
You're the king of sinful sots.
Your heart's a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots,
Mr. Grinch.
Your soul is an appalling dump-heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable mangled up in tangled-up knots!

Your nauseate me, Mr. Grinch.
With a nauseous super-naus.
You're a super jerky jockey
and you drive a crooked hoss,
Mr. Grinch.
You're a three-decker toadstool and sauerkraut sandwich with arsenic sauce!

Any way you put it, this guy's BAD! Laugh I have to admit it, it looks really silly on paper. But no one can bend the English language to his will as well as Dr. Seuss.

wendy woo

Dec 7 2012, 7:21am

Post #6 of 10 (361 views)
Eewww! [In reply to] Can't Post

Tongue Funny though!!

Ethel Duath

Dec 7 2012, 5:45pm

Post #7 of 10 (341 views)
My mom loves Pogo (Walt Kelly)! [In reply to] Can't Post

I like the Lewis Carrol one especially (since I've been living it lately!Crazy)

I had no idea he'd written these. Thank you!

Ethel Duath

Dec 7 2012, 5:47pm

Post #8 of 10 (341 views)
Wonder if Tolkien would like this one [In reply to] Can't Post

or if he would agree?

(Sandburg again): http://www.poets.org/...dia.php/prmMID/20753

Ethel Duath

Dec 7 2012, 5:50pm

Post #9 of 10 (360 views)
And the "everyday" turned into a tapestry [In reply to] Can't Post

in motion, almost. :)

Ted Kooser: http://www.poets.org/...dia.php/prmMID/16762

Grey Havens

Dec 11 2012, 2:45am

Post #10 of 10 (464 views)
After the Marathon [In reply to] Can't Post

The Road Goes Ever On and On is repeating in my head.
The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.

Fourth Age Adventures at the Inn of the Burping Troll http://burpingtroll.com


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