# The Poetry Hour **URL:** \ **Category:** Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share\ **Created:** [May 15, 2000, 2:24pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565 "2000-05-15T14:24:05Z")\ **Posts on this page:** 20\ **Page:** 1
**Author:** ![the\_Scarlet\_Pimpernel](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/f1d935/32.png) [@the\_Scarlet\_Pimpernel](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/the_Scarlet_Pimpernel)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 2:24pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/1 "2000-05-15T14:24:05Z")
_ahem_…testing, one, two, three…is this on? It is with great pleasure that I open the MPSIMS Open Mike Poetry Hour, for the cultural enrichment and edification of our fellow Dopers. Just as a reminder to those waiting in the wings, poems you yourself have written are acceptable, but please, let’s maintain a certain cultural level. And remember, the bar will be closed during the readings, so if any of you would like to refresh your drinks, now’s the time. That said, I would like to begin with “Baccalaureate” - by David McCord. Summa is i-cumen in, Laude sing cuccu! Leddes rede and classe lede, Profesor bemeth tu - Sing cuccu! Scholour striveth after Aye, Bleteth after shepskin ewe; Writë theseth, honoure seazeth, Murie sing cuccu! Cuccu, Cuccu, wel singes A.B cuccu; Ne flunke thu naver nu; Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu, Sing cuccu, Phye Betta Cappe, nu! _bowing_ Thank you. ---
**Author:** ![Ukulele\_Ike](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/u/df788c/32.png) [@Ukulele\_Ike](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Ukulele_Ike)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 2:38pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/2 "2000-05-15T14:38:46Z")
Ahem. “Pig,” by Paul Eluard. _Sun on its back, sun on its stomach Head heavy and fixed Like an artillery installation The pig will function._ Thank you. {steps off the dais and heads for the bar, muttering} ---
**Author:** ![MadPoet](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/m/8c91f0/32.png) [@MadPoet](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/MadPoet)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 2:41pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/3 "2000-05-15T14:41:53Z")
Distance #5 Must we persist In this Facade we share Aware Together we Can be Complete What have we done But won Each other’s hearts Apart We feign we don’t And won’t Regret So please return I yearn To hold you near I fear The distance grows Who knows How far? -KS '99 ---
**Author:** ![Inky\_1](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/i/7feea3/32.png) [@Inky\_1](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Inky_1)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 2:45pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/4 "2000-05-15T14:45:51Z")
Little Miss Muffett By Anonymous (seen in toilet stall) Little Miss Muffett Sat on a tuffet collecting her shell shock’d wits when along on a glider flew an H-bomb beside her and frightened Miss Muffett to bits ---
**Author:** ![Eve](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/e/9e8a1a/32.png) [@Eve](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Eve)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 2:56pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/5 "2000-05-15T14:56:20Z")
I’m a big fan of penny-dreadful Victorian poetry like “Will New Year Come Tonight?” and “Over the Hill to the Poor-House.” Here’s a classic, which must be recited out loud in stentorian tones, with appropriate Delsartre gestures: 'Twas a balmy summer evening, and a goodly crowd was there. Which well-nigh filled joe’s barroom on the comer of the square, And as songs and witty stories came through the open door A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor. Where did it come from?" someone said: “The wind has blown it in.” What does it want?" another cried. “Some whisky, rum or gin?” “Here, Toby, seek him, if your stomach’s equal to the work I wouldn’t touch him with a fork, he’s as filthy as a Turk.” This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace; In fact, he smiled as though he thought he’d struck the proper place. "Come, boys, I know there’s kindly hearts among so good a crowd To be in such good company would make a deacon proud. "Give me a drink-that’s what I want-I’m out of funds, you know; When I had cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow. What? You laugh as though you thought this pocket never held a sou; I once was fixed as well, my boys, as anyone of you. There, thanks; that’s braced me nicely; God bless you one and all; Next time I pass this good saloon, I’ll make another call. Give you a song? No, I can’t do that, my singing days are past; My voice is cracked, my throat’s wom out, and my lungs are going fast. "Sayl Give me another whisky, and I’ll tell you what I’ll do I’ll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too. T’hat I was ever a decent man not one of you would think; But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give me another drink. 'Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame- Such little drinks, to a bum like me, are miserably tame; Five fingers-there, that’s the scheme-and corking whisky, too. Well, here’s luck, boys; and, landlord, my best regards to you. "You’ve treated me pretty kindly, and I’d like to tell you how I came to be the dirty sot you see before you now. As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame and health, And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth. 'I was a painter-not one that daubed on bricks and wood But an artist, and, for my age, was rated pretty good. I worked hard at my canvas and was bidding fair to rise, For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes. "I made a picture, perhaps you’ve seen, 'tis called the ‘Chase of Fame,’ It brought me fifteen hundred pounds and added to my name. And then I met a woman-now comes the funny part- With eyes that petrified my brain, and sunk into my heart. 'Why don’t you laugh? 'Tis funny that the vagabond you see Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me; But 'twas so, and for a month or two her smiles were freely given, And when her loving lips touched mine it carried me to heaven. 'Did you ever see a woman for whom your soul you’d give, With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live; With eyes that would beat the Koh-i-noor, and a wealth of chestnut hair? If so, 'twas she, for there never was another half so fair. "I was working on a portrait, one afternoon in May, Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way, And Madeline admired it, and, much to my surprise, Said that she’d like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes. 'It didn’t take long to know him, and before the month had flown My friend had stolen my darling, and I was left alone; And, ere a year of misery had passed above my head, The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished, and was dead. "That’s why I took to drink, boys. Why, I never saw you smile, I thought you’d be amused, and laughing all the while. Why, what’s the matter, friend? There’s a teardrop in your eye, Come, laugh, like me; 'tis only babies and women that should cry. ‘Say, boys, if you give me just another whisky, I’ll be glad, And I’ll draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad. Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score– You shall see the lovely Madeline upon the barroom floor.’ Another drink, and with chalk in hand the vagabond began To sketch a face that well might buy the soul of any man. Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head, With a fearful shriek, he leaped and fell across the picture-dead. ---
**Author:** ![Elthia](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/e/e274bd/32.png) [@Elthia](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Elthia)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 3:35pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/6 "2000-05-15T15:35:46Z")
(please don’t kill me for posting one of my own.) Bitch in Training (RT, 1993) Ever since you’ve gone, I’ve cried… On and off, I’ve moaned and sighed Because you left that fateful day - You saw her and you went away. But even now, you want to be All that’s in this world for me. That’s not right. Do you believe that I will find That you are all that’s on my mind? Do you honestly think, in your conceit, That nothing you did could ever be beat? Do you believe, you stupid boar, That I will love you forevermore? Well, I might. But if you know that though I hurt, I’ll always know that I’m not dirt - I’ll always realize what you’re missing, What someone else may soon be kissing; If you know that I’ll survive, That, through it all, I will still thrive, Then you’re right. And then again, there’ll come a day When I can stand and boldly say, “I don’t need you anymore - When you leave, please close the door!” And you in shock at how I’ve grown, Will shrivel at my emboldened tone - And I’ll take flight. -Elthia ---
**Author:** ![BrainWeasel](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/bb73d2/32.png) [@BrainWeasel](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/BrainWeasel)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 3:44pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/7 "2000-05-15T15:44:26Z")
How pierceful grows the hazy yon, How myrtle petaled thou. For spring hath sprung the cyclotron, How high browse thou, brown cow? Thank ye, thank ye. For my next number; Smile, wavering wings, above rain’s pour, while, hopefully, sings love of shorn shore. Shore, shorn of love, sings hopefully, while pour rains above, wings, wavering, smile. Oh, wait. I read it backwards. ---
**Author:** ![ThisYearsGirl](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/73ab20/32.png) [@ThisYearsGirl](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/ThisYearsGirl)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 4:22pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/8 "2000-05-15T16:22:26Z")
Something from one of my favorite poets (altough it’s not my favorite piece by him)– Mid-Term Break By Seamus Heaney I sat all morning in the college sick bay Counting bells knelling classes to a close. At two o’clock our neighbors drove me home. In the porch I met my father crying– He had always taken funerals in his stride– And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow. The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram When I came in, and I was embarrassed By old men standing up to shake my hand And tell me they were “sorry for my trouble,” Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest, Away at school, as my mother held my hand In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs. At ten o’clock the ambulance arrived With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses. Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him For the first time in six weeks. Paler now, Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple, He lay in the four foot box as in his cot. No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear. A four foot box, a foot for every year. ---
**Author:** ![tshirts](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/839c29/32.png) [@tshirts](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/tshirts)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 4:30pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/9 "2000-05-15T16:30:44Z")
**For a Friends Wife** [Hear this poem… click on this link](http://www.poetrylives.com/For%20a%20Friends%20Wife.wav) “She’s German you know”. They say it like it describes her But it does not She is much more than Details managed Her husbands toothpaste Prepared for his delinquent teeth There is the house swept not Just clean But white An absence of color meant To make the slightest stain A knockout punch She is small and looms large As she rushes a door To greet any visitor Reach for any friend “She is German you know”. But that tells more than she Wants it too What a soul is lost in those Words What bright eyes dart To read details of People she meets I feel better knowing she is There to watch my imperfections To hide them From myself more than others Covering my slightest error Like she cleans wine spilled On white carpet To a time when it was Not there Redeeming me and a Rug in one \*\*Same instant \*\* - Michael (my brother) ---
**Author:** ![soulsling](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/a5b964/32.png) [@soulsling](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/soulsling)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 4:52pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/10 "2000-05-15T16:52:12Z")
Hippopotomos, Hippopotomos Standing on my head Big Fat Hairy Hippopotomos Soon I will be dead Not purple Hippopotomos Nor blue, nor green But sickly gray Hippopotomos Biggest damn thing i’ve ever seen Please get off me Hippopotomos Stop dancing on my face I’ll kill you Hippopotomos I’ll hit you with a mace. 🙂 ---
**Author:** ![Flutterby](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/f/6f9a4e/32.png) [@Flutterby](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Flutterby)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 4:59pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/11 "2000-05-15T16:59:40Z")
**Lovers** \* January 15, 2000\* Lovers caresses Under the moonlit sky Tender and charged Full of love and life Bringing an end To the loneliness And the madness Two become one Soul and body joined The whole of creation Holdings its breath At the perfectness Of soulmates Renewing their eternal vows For the rest of eternity ---
**Author:** ![Talkinsquirrel](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/f6c823/32.png) [@Talkinsquirrel](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Talkinsquirrel)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 7:21pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/12 "2000-05-15T19:21:21Z")
Aight here’s one of my poems be gentle I am a newbie :)“What They Thought They All Knew” Family, Friends, Loved ones She left behind so much No one thought she would do it Yet they all knew she would She always seemed so happy Laughing,joking,smiling Everyone thought they knew her Yet no one really did Behind the laughs,behind the smile She was hurting deep inside No one knew this side exisisted Yet they knew it was there She needed some help So she looked to her family They all said they would be there Yet no one was really there She turned to her friends for the help she desperatley need They said they’ll make time for her yet no one ever did She had no one else so she took her life They all thought it couldnt be Yet they all knew it was ---
**Author:** ![Elthia](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/e/e274bd/32.png) [@Elthia](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Elthia)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 7:32pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/13 "2000-05-15T19:32:40Z")
[http://www.elthia.net/poetry/](http://www.elthia.net/poetry/) It’s juvenile, it’s silly, it’s all written by me in past years. I don’t know why I’m sharing it, but I’m going to post it quick before I can have second thoughts. -Elthia ---
**Author:** ![KP](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/k/a9adbd/32.png) [@KP](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/KP)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 7:35pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/14 "2000-05-15T19:35:57Z")
I keep a few printed copies of this one handy to give to people who seem to need it. It seems to help. ## The Common Cold Go hang yourself, you old M.D,! You shall no longer sneer at me. Pick up your hat and stethoscope, Go wash your mouth with laundry soap; I contemplate a joy exquisite In not paying you for your visit. I did not call you to be told My malady is a common cold. By pounding brow and swollen lip; By fever’s hot and scaly grip; By those two red redundant eyes That weep like woeful April skies; By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff; By handkerchief after handkerchief; This cold you wave away as naught Is the damnedest cold man ever caught! Give ear, you scientific fossil! Here is the genuine Cold Colossal; The Cold of which researchers dream, The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme. This honored system humbly holds The Super-cold to end all colds; The Cold Crusading for Democracy; The Führer of the Streptococcracy. Bacilli swarm within my portals Such as were ne’er conceived by mortals, But bred by scientists wise and hoary In some Olympic laboratory; Bacteria as large as mice, With feet of fire and heads of ice Who never interrupt for slumber Their stamping elephantine rumba. A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth! Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth; Don Juan was a budding gallant, And Shakespeare’s plays show signs of talent; The Arctic winter is fairly coolish, And your diagnosis is fairly foolish. Oh what a derision history holds For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds! – Ogden Nash ---
**Author:** ![Elthia](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/e/e274bd/32.png) [@Elthia](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Elthia)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 7:42pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/15 "2000-05-15T19:42:52Z")
one of Wm. Shakespeare’s many sonnets (I like this one): Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth, That having such a scope to show her pride, The argument, all bare, is of more worth Than when it hath my added praise beside. O! blame me not, if I no more can write; Look in your glass, and there appears a face That over-goes my blunt invention quite, Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace. Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, To mar the subject that before was well? For to no other pass my verses tend Than of your graces and your gifts to tell; And more, much more, than in my verse can sit, Your own glass shows you when you look in it. -Elthia ---
**Author:** ![soulsling](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/a5b964/32.png) [@soulsling](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/soulsling)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 7:50pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/16 "2000-05-15T19:50:48Z")
upon the BIG BREAKUP with my ex. Why so condescending to the light? Not even two weeks notice… no time for solace in my forever it seems… disparaging night. You were so comfortable in a curt sort of way You broke my heart in two in only one day two years of healing and growing understood so much time in the planning on your part, so it sounded good. And it felt so clear and natural that i left it accepting it with no grief a hit and run commitment i thought i wanted us to keep but i was wrong, and again more learned, i’ll never waste my time again any others can come as they please, broken ribs can never mend and the ribs are merely the shell not so deep as the heart which is frail so if that is broken, i believe, not even time in eternity will heal You wanted a song, one day my heart will sing You wanted to hear my rhymes it’s sorrow my heart will bring Not loneliness could have me, deaths superior, doesn’t have the right Alone i can grow more powerful without you i think i might so the warmth is gone who cares? not you and then so what if i still do? I have no need of emotion in strength wisdom and brawn are my only defense the heart is an illusion womens pawns in their game and i have the codes that make the queen tame, no need for castles, my rooks are four your pawns have all fallen, I am the Knight no more the bishops are mistaken, the King, i stand alone In the chamber of my heart Sits two empty thrones. ~Allan(me) ---
**Author:** ![tradesilicon](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/439d5e/32.png) [@tradesilicon](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/tradesilicon)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 8:11pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/17 "2000-05-15T20:11:12Z")
I wrote this one, but I’ll deny it if confrunted! Have a drink: Here I was sittn’ and mindin’ me kitten, and nursin’ a bottle o’ Gyn. Along came Ol’ Fagin, a yellin an naggin’, Askin if he could come in. Well, before I knew it, the door he walked through it, And halted in front of me face. He says “'And me that Bottle, don’t waste time with your waddle, and don’t treat me bad since I’m kin!” Well my day was in ruins, 'cause you see, his mis-doins is famous from here to the Crown! He’s been jailed as a beater, and a woman mis-treater, And he’s known to put any man down! So I treaded so gently, as I handed him apmtly Both the drink and the food he desired. And he kept on a drinkin’ as I was a thinkin’ 'Ow to get meself outa this fire! Then the thougt came in time, as to what I might try To relieve the small problem I found. I would simply keep pourin’, Soon enough he’d be snorin’ And then I would be nowhere around! Well I woke up next mornin’, a hurtin and groanin’ Thinking “what could’ve hit me last night?” Then remembered it slowly, feeling worthless and lowly That the drukard got me in a fight! ‘Cause you see, when your pourin’, make sure you’re not ignorin’ Who is sharin’ your bottle and glass. 'Cause some of ‘em drink Gyn, and just take it all in Without feelin’ so much as a buzz. ---
**Author:** ![teela\_brown](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/d9b06d/32.png) [@teela\_brown](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/teela_brown)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 9:11pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/18 "2000-05-15T21:11:46Z")
Oh, what is the matter with poor Puggy-Wug? Pet him and kiss him and give him a hug. Run and fetch him a suitable drug. Wrap him up tenderly all in a rug. That is the way to cure Puggy-Wug. ---
**Author:** ![tatertot](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/c37758/32.png) [@tatertot](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/tatertot)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 9:20pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/19 "2000-05-15T21:20:03Z")
I used to write poetry in high school, but one day I burned it all for some reason that I can’t quite remember, so I’ll just contribute one of my favorite poems. **God’s Grandeur** by Gerard Manley Hopkins The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; Bleared, smeared with toil; And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. And for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs– Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings. ---
**Author:** ![Osip](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/o/4491bb/32.png) [@Osip](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Osip)\ **Post date:** [May 15, 2000, 10:57pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565/20 "2000-05-15T22:57:33Z")
I’LL TELL YOU BLUNTLY… by Osip Mandelstam I’ll tell you bluntly One last time: It’s only maddening cherry brandy, Angel mine. Where the Greeks saw just they raped Beauty’s fame, At me though black holes gaped Only shame. But the Greeks hauled Helen home In their ships. Here a smidgen of salty foam Flecks my lips. What rubs my lips and leaves no trace? Vacancy. What thrusts a finger in my face? Vagrancy. QUickly, wholly, or slowly as a snail, All the same, Mary angel, drink your cocktail, Down your wine. I’ll tell you bluntly One last time: It’s only maddening cherry brandy, Angel mine. March 1931 Moscow [Next page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-hour/19565.md?page=2)