Quirky Cool Poem (There Be Lions)

Photo courtesy Irum Shahid at Stock.xchnge

I love anything that’s written in an absurd or quirky style, and “Sunt Leones” (translated from Latin: there be lions) certainly meets that criteria.  Following is the now classic poem written by the talented Stevie Smith (1902-1971).

Sunt Leones

The lions who ate the Christians on the sands of the arena
By indulging native appetites played what has now been seen a
Not entirely negligible part
In consolidating at the very start
The position of the Early Christian Church
Initiatory rites are always bloody
And the lions, it appear
 
From contemporary art, made a study
Of dyeing Coliseum sands a ruddy
Liturgically sacrificial hue
And if the Christians felt a little blue
Well people being eaten often do
Theirs was the death, and theirs the crown undying
A state of things which must be satisfying
My point which up to this has been obscure
is that it was the lions who procure
By chewing up blood gristle flesh and bone
The martyrdoms on which the Church has grown
I only write this poem because I thought it rather looked  
As if the part the lions played was being overlooked
By lions’ jaws great benefits and blessings were begotten  
And so our debt to Lionhood must never be forgotten. 

See a list of books by Stevie Smith on amazon.com.
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Cabbages, Kings, and Pigs with Wings

I don’t know what Lewis Carroll was smoking, but it must have been some pretty good stuff to come up with poetry like this… 

The Walrus and the Carpenter

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright–
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done–
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun!”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead–
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it would be grand!”

“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head–
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat–
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more–
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”

“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed–
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”

“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
“Do you admire the view?

“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf–
I’ve had to ask you twice!”

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none–
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.

Read more of Lewis Carroll’s poetry at poemhunter.

Roald Dahl’s Version of Little Red Riding Hood

I like funny poetry, and I like weird poetry, so of course I absolutely love Roald Dahl’s poetry.  I recently came across a poem of his I hadn’t seen before called Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf.  Here’s an excerpt:

He sat there watching her and smiled.
He thought, I’m going to eat this child.
Compared with her old Grandmamma
She’s going to taste like caviar.

Visit the link to read the entire poem or go to amazon.com to view a list of Roald Dahl’s poetry books, including Revolting Rhymes and Vile Verses.

Dark Poem – I Need You

A poem by moi…

I Need You
by Edie Montgomery-Pool

 

hold me

      until i

            suffocate

 

crush me

      leave no bone

            unturned

 

self hatred

      is my

            savior

 

but i cannot

      destroy

            this thing called me

                  alone

 

                        i need you

_______________

(You may reproduce this poem in part or whole, on or in a website, email, podcast, or broadcast; permission for electronic reproduction is granted on the provision that the website on which the poem is published is not a vanity publisher or a scam poetry contest which requires its “winners” to make a purchase or pay a fee before being published. You may also reproduce this poem in print material for which net profits do not exceed $1,000. Author name must be included in any reproductions, and author must be notified whenever this poem is, or parts of this poem are, used. For all other uses not mentioned here, just ask and I will most likely say yes.) 🙂

What is Bromance?

Bromance is a slang term increasing in popularity, but what exactly does it mean?  Simon Dumenico wrote a funny article on bromance recently over at The Huffington Post.  He describes bromance this way:

“Homosexuality, of course, used to be known as the love that dare not speak its name–until, thanks to the gayification of pop culture, it became the love that wouldn’t shut the hell up. Now the man crush (a heterosexual male’s feelings of platonic love for another man) and the bromance (when those feelings are reciprocated) are coming out of the closet in a major way.”

Click the link above for the full article.

If you’re still not sure what bromance is, I wrote this poem to explain it to you…

Bromance
by Edie Montgomery-Pool

What is “bromance?”
You might say:
A love between two dudes
Not gay

There’s no dating,
No holding hands;
Just drunk guys stating,
“I love you man.”

_______________

(You may reproduce this poem in part or whole, on or in a website, email, podcast, or broadcast; permission for electronic reproduction is granted on the provision that the website on which the poem is published is not a vanity publisher or a scam poetry contest which requires its “winners” to make a purchase or pay a fee before being published. You may also reproduce this poem in print material for which net profits do not exceed $1,000. Author name must be included in any reproductions, and author must be notified whenever this poem is, or parts of this poem are, used. For all other uses not mentioned here, just ask and I will most likely say yes.) 🙂

One of My Bodily Organs is Gone

The most intense pain I’ve ever felt in my life awoke me at midnight on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. What ensued can only be described as a vomitathon, and by 2:00 am, my husband was asking me if I wanted to go to the hospital.  I refused, thinking it had to be over soon.  

By 4:00 am, with no relief from the pain or the marathon of vomiting, I agreed to be taken to E.R., where I sat in the waiting room, crying in pain and hobbling back and forth to the restroom to barf my guts out.  The nurse didn’t see me until I’d been there for about a half hour, asked me some questions, then sent me back to the waiting room!!  The waiting room was empty, by the way, except for 1 mentally ill guy who alternated between mimicking my cries of pain and randomly shouting out things like “mentally ill!”

(Yes, we know.)

By about 5:30 I finally got a bed, by 10:00 I’d been diagnosed with gallstones and an infected gallbladder and scheduled for surgery, and by 2:00 pm, I was on the operating table.

So my week has been kind of rough.  I’m just glad it was something straight-forward and that I got the surgery I needed right away.  I’m at home undergoing a slow recovery now.  I usually don’t like to use medication, not even aspirin when I have a headache, but let me tell you, morphine and darvocet are my new best friends.

So, just to be weird (and perhaps because I’m high), I decided to google the keywords gallbladder and poetry together.  To my surprise, I got some hits.  Like this poem called Ode to my Gall Bladder by BJ Swartz:

Little organ holding bile,
Since you have become so vile,
Causing me to ache and pout,
I am going to put you out!

You can read the entire poem at the link above.  There is even a book from another author called Gallbaldder Poetry listed on amazon.com, but it is currently out of stock.  (Oh darn.)

No Third Date

Okay, I wasn’t even sure I liked this online magazine upon first perusal, but now it is quickly becoming one of my favorites.  It’s quirky, strange, a little silly, and perhaps an acquired taste, but one I’ve now grown to love.

Don’t miss the poem by Marilyn Letts called No Third Date at Feathertale.com.  The last line/last reason for not having a third date was the best and had me chuckling.