I'm no Poet; and trust me, I know it.

Lately I seem to be running into poets. I met another one over the weekend. Is someone trying to tell me something? I have been thinking about and reading a lot more poetry lately. And yes, I confess, I used to write poetry, too – sonnets, of all things, for my first true love (that miserable son-of-a–), but later on I went into a phase of trying to be like Dennis Lee. No, not his clever adult works like UN; think of a Garbage Delight wanna be:

BREAKFAST, LUNCH AND DINNER IS NOW BEING SERVED
On the menu I see:

Squished bananas
and I think I can find
peanut butter
(the crunchy kind)
strained pears
and blueberry jam
and little peices
of chew-up ham
spaghette sauce
and meatballs, too
and is that cheese I smell?
Peeeeuuuu!!!
All this food
It's such a waste
'cause it's all over
my brother's face!

PANCAKES
Patricia ate fourteen pancakes
One-Two-Splickity-Lick!
Patricia ate fourteen pancakes
(I think she's feeling sick)
Patricia ate fourteen pancakes
While sailing on the Humber
I do not think that fourteen is
Patricia's favourite number.

IF
If I sneezed
But held it in
Would I blow off
The tip of my chin?

Comments

[michele]

Aww, ohh, adorable...both the drawing and your poetry. Are you aware that Lee's current gig as Toronto's Poet Laureate is soon ending? What skills do you have in ribbon cutting and public verse? C'mon - I will vote for you.....many times.