I’m all out of sync,
my brain’s on the blink,
and I cannot think
of another rhyme.
I’m dumb and confused,
numb and quite weary,
clumsy and clearly
shot away;
but, that’s not to say…
over and out,
whisper and shout,
and here is the twist,
I’m the top of my list.
Flattery got me everywhere;
but, I ended up in a cattery;
stopping, on the way, at a nunnery,
where I met, and spoke to, Simon Munnery;
who I barely knew, but he knew me
far less than I knew him and so it was that we,
found little to talk about,
took the opportunity to chalk about
a dead body of work
that someone had, unfinished, discarded;
so, here I stand
with head in hand
all due to an unforeseen incident
dans la rue de Paris
between a guillotine and me.
Monosyllabic;
Why so many syllables?
Anybody know?
‘Twas the seventeenth day
of the month before May;
some say that it is called ‘April’.
The Sun was out
shining all about
as it does on a sunny day.
Where be the rain?
Where be the wind?
Where be the third thing in this list?
Anyway, it is much too nice a day
to be sat writing poems –
unless the twinkling of an idea beckons.
Ogden Nash’s ‘The Termite’
Ogden Nash’s ‘The Termite’ with audio
Some primal termite knocked on wood
And tasted it, and found it good!
And that is why your Cousin May
Fell through the parlor floor today.
Taken from PoemHunter.com
Flying high
in the sky
the jackdaw looked very small
the twig smaller still.
When they flew close
I could see
that they were of a normal size
and the twig was only one of the many
that the jackdaw had brought
to try and make a nest;
as had the rest of the jackdaws.
They were queued up
waiting to take their long, thin twigs
within the eaves of the old mansion.
Some of the birds
and some of the twigs
did fit in –
though there were many discarded twigs scattered upon the floor,
after the jackdaws did decide
that the twigs were too wide.
“I’m PC Pasty, number 4, 1, 9;
if I’m on patrol, then you’d better toe-the-line;
If you pick up litter, we should get on fine;
I’m PC Patsy Pasty, number 4, 1, 9.”
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