BookLust

Silly Poetry Friday 31

The little poem I'm posting today isn't actually silly at all, but I like it, and wanted to share. It may be familiar to some of you, especially if you're a garden-lover. It was my mom who recently reminded me of this lovely gem – as a way of nudging me into working in my garden to forget some of my troubles. Thanks, Mom!

The poem is a well-known stanza from God's Garden, written by Dorothy Frances Gurney. I'm certainly not a religious person, but I figure an agnostic can still appreciate religious poetry, can't they? And for your visual entertainment, I'm posting some images from last year's garden, as was well as one pic from the garden this year so far. Ok, the poem:

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God's Heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.

And looky! My Rhododendrons bloomed this year! Woo-hoo!

Silly Poetry Friday 30

Yup, late yet again. At least I'm consistent! Consistently silly, that is...

So I'm wondering, what do all you folks think about all the movies that have been made in the past few years, on Dr. Suess's books? I'm thinking of movies like the recent Horton Hears A Who, The Cat In The Hat and The Grinch. Did you watch them? Did you like them? Me, I could not watch them. Nope. Not ever. In fact...

I could not, would not, on a boat.
I will not, will not, with a goat.
I will not watch them in the rain.
I will not watch them on a train.
Not in the dark! Not in a tree!
Not in a car! You let me be!
I will not watch them in a box.
I will not watch them with a fox.
I will not watch them in a house.
I will not watch them with a mouse.
I will not watch them here or there.
I will not watch them ANYWHERE!

Well, you get the point. I did see the trailers for all those movies, and they just made my skin crawl. Why in heaven's name would you mess with such a good thing? Well, apparently that's what good ol' Dr. Seuss was thinking, too! Mind you, I do believe he shuffled off this silly mortal coil a while ago, but somehow, courtesy of The Onion, they managed to get in touch with ol' Mr. Geisel, and this is what he had to say:

Stop Making Movies About My Books

On the fourteenth of March, in towns nationwide,
In every cinema, multiplex, on every barnside,
Gleamed another adapting of one of my books,
CGI-ed and digitized by another sly crook.
Horton, my favorite—look how he's been treated!
Stuffed with tinsels and tassels and promptly excreted!
The puns! And the filler! The script fees you must save!
While I tumble and grum-humble around in my grave.
Did you learn all but squat from The Cat In The Hat?
Please tell me you fired the prick who made that.
I would have stopped writing, maybe sold Goodyear tires.
If I knew one dark day I'd costar with Mike Myers.
And Oh!
Oh, dear! Oh!
My poor Grinch, what they've done!
They crammed in live-action and snuffed out all the fun!
It's icky, it's tacky, it's awkward, it's wrong.
The Whos look like ferrets, it's an hour too long.
What a rotten idea to spend millions destroying
This masterful tale kids spent decades enjoying!
But still you keep making them!
Just how do you dare?
Sell my life's work off piecemeal
To every Tom, Dick, and Har'.
Why it's simply an outrage—a crime, you must judge!—
To crap on my books with this big-budget sludge.
My books are for children to learn ones and twos in,
Not commercialous slop for Jim Carrey to ruin.
Have you no respect for the gems of your youth?
To pervert them on screen from Taiwan to Duluth.
Even after you drag my last word through the dirt,
I know you, you pirates,
You'd cut out my heart for a "Thing 1" T-shirt.
For eighty-some years I held you vultures at bay,
knowing just how you'd franchise my good name some day.
Not yet cold in my grave before you starting shooting
the first of my classics you'd acquired for looting.
Mrs. Seuss, that old stoofus, began selling more rights
to Dreamworks, Universal—any hack in her sights.
First The Cat In The Hat and then this, that and Seussical
without a thought to be picky, selectish, or choosical.
So to Audrey, you whore, you sad sack of a wife:
Listen close. Pay attention, for once in your life.
You give Fox In Sox to those sharks who made Elf
And so help me, I'll rise up and kill you myself.
No Sneetches by Sony—
No One Fish: On Ice—
Burn that Hop On Pop II script not one time but twice.
Don't sex up my prose with Alyssa Milano…
And no Green Eggs And Ham with that one-note Romano!
This must stop! This must end! Don't you see what you're doing?
You're defiling the work I spent ages accruing.
And when it's dried up and you've sucked out your pay
There'll be no going back to a simpler day,
When your mom would give Horton a voice extra deep,
And turn the last page as you drifted to sleep.
Instead you'll have boxed sets, shit movies, and… well,
You'll have plenty to watch while you're burning in hell.

Silly Poetry Friday 29

Perhaps I should start calling this category Silly Late Poetry? 'Cuz I'm always late in posting this darn thing, aren't I? Ah well...

In the past few weeks this one poem has been playing in my mind like a really nasty ear worm, and I can't get the damn fool thing out of my head. I'm hoping if I post it here, it will go away! I loved this poem as a kid – it was goofy and silly and had just the right amount of creepiness to hold my attention but not scare me too much. Ever heard of The Goops? It's a poem from a collection called Goops and How to Be Them, written and illustrated by Gelett Burgess, who apparently is the true author of the Purple Cow poem! (I had always thought it was Odgen Nash. Aren't I the silly one?)

Well, apparently The Goops are back in a really big way – I found this web site devoted to reissuing the original books, with the goal of bringing "proper manners and polite behavior back into the lives of contemporary families." Ummm...I hate to break it to these folks, but I don't think reading silly poems about weird-looking bald kids is gonna change any contemporary kid's behavior. My brother and sister and I loved reading this poem for no other reason than to have a good laugh, and sometimes, if memory serves me correctly, we pretended to be a goop at the dinner table (I'll tell ya what will change a kid's rotten table manners – a strict mother who will threaten to shorten your life span if you don't smarten up PDQ).

Ok, enough goop talk. Here's the poem (scanned from The Illustrated Treasury of Children's Literature, edited and with an introduction by Margaret E. Martignoni).

Silly Poetry Friday 28

Yes, yes, I know, I know...it ain't Friday. And it's been way too long since I posted a Silly Poetry Friday poem. Well that's what makes it all the more sillier, no? No? Oh well.

I'm going to go out on a limb here, and say that I believe Spring is officially here to stay! Woo-hoo! So to celebrate this long-awaited season, how 'bout a somewhat silly Spring-like poem? It's written by some dead poet/playwright dude named Bill.

Where The Bee Sucks

Where the bee sucks, there suck I.
In a cowslip's bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

– William Shakespeare

Silly Poetry Friday 27

Well....after my very silly garbage rant yesterday, I thought it only fitting that I share a poem for Silly Poetry Friday that's all about garbage! And of course, the best garbage poem out there is none other than Garbage Delight by our very own delightful Dennis Lee.

You know...after reading this poem this morning, it occurs to me that the best answer to our garbage problem is to find a creature who enjoys eating garbage! Any takers out there?

GARBAGE DELIGHT

Now, I'm not one
To say No to a bun,
And I always can manage some jelly;
If somebody gurgles,
"Please eat my hamburgles,"
I try to make room in my belly.
I seem, if they scream,
Not to gag on ice-cream,
And with fudge I can choke down my fright;
But none is enticing
Or even worth slicing,
Compared with Garbage Delight.

With a nip and a nibble
A drip and a dribble
A dollop, a walloping bite:
If you want to see grins
All the way to my shins,
Then give me some Garbage Delight!

I'm hand with candy.
I'm a star with a bar.
And I'm known for my butterscotch burp;
A can stare in the eyes
Of a Toffee Surprise
And polish it off with one slurp.
My lick is the longest,
My chomp is the champ
And everyone envies my bite;
But my talents were wasted
Until I had tasted
The wonders of Garbage Delight.

With a nip and a nibble
A drip and a dribble
A dollop, a walloping bite:
If you want to see grins
All the way to my shins
Then give me some Garbage Delight,
Right now!
Please pass me the Garbage Delight.

Silly Poetry Friday 26

Bumped by Bacon!

Bet you're wondering what the heck I'm talking about, right? Ok, a little backstory. (Or should I say, backstory Bacon?) I was scheduled to do a little radio interview yesterday morning on the radio station CRN Digital Talk Radio, on the AM Show with Paul Stern and Erik Hines. But it didn't happen. I got bumped by one of their guests. Seems they were all having such a good time talking to their guest Kevin Bacon, that they plum forgot about little ol' me. So you see...I was bumped by Bacon! But that's ok. In fact, I think it's kinda cool. I've always liked Kevin Bacon, and now I've got my very own Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon experience!

So in honour of Mr. Bacon, I thought I would post a silly poem about...bacon!

I was searching the net and I found this interesting link. It's a silly dramatic performance of a poem about bacon. The poem was written by Joe Cappels, as an advertisement for McKenkie Bacon. The poem is performed by Charles Fuller, but in the recording he is known as "Sir Archibald Hensley". There's a bit of loud clapping before the performance, and the recording is a bit scratchy, but it's worth a listen. Here's the recording. I've tried to transcribe the poem as best I could, but I'm not sure about a couple of the words recited at the end:

I cast my eyes unto the sky

And saw a bacon back float by

This is I said as on it went

Mackenzie Bacon heaven sent

Never, never mortal eyes had seen

Bacon quite so fresh and lean

Never, never mortal tongue did savour

Such a sweet delicious flavour

So after all the foods forsaken

Replace it by Mackenzie Bacon!

Silly Poetry Friday 25

Yes, yes, I know, I know...it's not Friday. But the fact that I'm posting a silly poem on a Sunday means that at least I got the silly part right in Silly Poetry Friday. Oh, and the poetry part, too. So there.

Today is a working day for me, which is pretty silly, and a little sad (I'd rather be reading!) but at least the work is good fun. But before I start working, I wanted to post a silly poem. And I wanted to pick a different poem this time, something with a bit more meaning for me. A few days ago I was looking through my Garbage Delight poems by Dennis Lee. This book was a Christmas gift to me by an old high school friend, someone I haven't seen or talked to in about 25 years. A couple months ago I was reading a Toronto literary blog and I just happened to come across this friend's name. It seems that my old friend Laurie Channer has written a novel that will come out this fall (Much more about this great news in the future). So I managed to track her down and send her my congratulations. We've gotten together a couple times to chat, and it's just been wonderful. I'm so very, very pleased for her success. And it's so cool that the both of us have ended up in careers that were our childhood passions.

One of Laurie's interests in high school was children's poems. She wrote a lovely little poem at the front of my Garbage Delight book, and with her permission, I will share it now (with a silly illo by me):

Happy galumphing through all of your life

May your striggles be tiny and few

Here is to hoping your feet will be tall

And merry of always to you.

Well, I have had a few striggles in my life, and they weren't tiny, but who goes through life without some striggles, I ask you. My feet aren't tall, and sadly neither is the rest of me (in fact I'm sure I'm shrinking). But I always tell people who don't think I'm that short (I'm 5'2") that I talk tall. And I'm merry most of the time, so that ain't half bad, don't ya think?

Thank-you, Laurie, for the lovely poem, and for your lovely self. I'm so very glad I galumphed into your life again.

Silly Poetry Friday 24

Since I'll be at the Ontario Library Association Super Conference today, I thought it only fitting that I choose a poem about libraries. This poem isn't really silly. In fact, it's lovely. But my cartoon is silly. So there. The poem is called Ode to the Librarian, and is by Jennifer Jacobs.

Ode to the Librarian

The Librarian (with a capital L)
Is a saint who knows
She can't lock herself in a tower
She lives in the Library, her back to the door
And answers questions from patrons who call
In quiet, confused voices
Or with loud, angry demands
Or as an afterthought, mistakenly convinced she can offer nothing they don't already know
The Librarian turns no one away

The Librarian
Is closely related to
The Sorceress and the Poet
But her painful modesty and disturbing sense of propriety
Have prevented her from recognizing the kinship
And accepting her family's riches

The Librarian has, instead
Collected vast riches of her own
She knows the books are very important
Though she isn't sure…
Maybe some of them are more important
Than others
She has to read them
To see

and she's entranced and she forgets the others the pain and the beauty
The knowledge

"Oh, another patron…"

and she's entranced and she forgets the others the pain and the beauty
The knowledge

"Okay…the task at hand"

Was that a clue? Does he know something?
She sets aside the book she was reading, and follows the clue

and she's entranced and she forgets the others the pain and the beauty
The knowledge

Wouldn't it confuse her to find out
How much the Sorceress and the Poet
Admire her and how
Their painful modesty and disturbing sense of propriety
Have prevented them from recognizing the kinship
And accepting their family's riches…

Silly Poetry Friday 23

Yes, yes, I know – it ain't Friday, in fact, it's yucky Monday. All the more reason for a silly poem, don'tchathink? I was crazy busy with thisn' that on Friday, and then I couldn't find a poem I really liked to post. Until today, that is, which happens to be...yes, Monday. So sue me.

I've been thinking a lot lately about New York again, and, sigh....wanting desperately to go back...must save my pennies, I guess. In the mean time, I'll live vicariously through Dorothy Parker's poetry:

OBSERVATION

If I don't drive around the park,
I'm pretty sure to make my mark.
If I'm in bed each night by ten,
I may get back my looks again,
If I abstain from fun and such,
I'll probably amount to much,
But I shall stay the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn.

Silly Poetry Friday 22

Yippee! It's Friday, and it's time to get silly again! And guess what? Today I have an extra-special-silly poem for you, written by a very talented blogger! Today's poem was written by the very clever Quotesqueen, who is a collector of all things quotable. For some silly reason, after discovering my site, the Quotesqueen was inspired and resolved to have more fun on her blog. Now why would she feel that way? I'm a very serious person, you know (wink). And so just to prove her point, she wrote a wonderfully silly and downright brilliant limerick:

There once was a blogger who laughed,
(when she found a new blog that was daft)
“I can make this fun
and I will,” whereupon,
she created a whimsical draft.

Ain't that a hoot? Hey! Wait a minute...she called me daft!! The noive! Why I otta...ah...fuggetaboutit. I'm as daft as they come. I'm daft, and I'm lovin' every minute of it!