Since we went to the library yesterday, and I'm only halfway through one of the four books I've checked out, and I've got to polish my science fiction story for this week's contest, and we're taking my mom to see Evan Almighty this afternoon...I'm cutting things shorter today and giving you a poem. I ain't no poet. And don't we all know it? Here it is, in all its 10 minutes of glory, because that's how long it took me to write.
Plopping in the Mansion on a Summer Afternoon
Whose mansion this is, I think I know.
He's working in the city, though.
He does not see me plopping here.
It's summertime. I take it slow.
My Little Pony thinks it odd
To watch TV until I nod
From staying up so very late.
QUIET! I'll not spare the rod!
He keeps his noise down to a roar
While building, playing IN the floor.
He storms the pantry for a snack,
Then with some darts attacks the door.
I'd like to dance and twirl and leap
But I'd collapse into a heap.
I've books to read before I sleep.
I've books to read before I sleep.
The comments are open for guesses on which poem I'm ripping off. The title AND the author. Since my comments lie fallow until I decide to publish them, nobody has to worry about giving away the answer too early, or giving someone else a clue. Methinks Meanie has the advantage in this one. First, there's that English teacher thing she's got goin' on. Secondly, she is, after all, a regular poetess. One who writes poems because she likes to write poems, not just to fill up blog space while copying the work of one of America's great poets. There. That was a clue. The title itself is a clue. Get after it, you Scooby Doos! Round up Velma and fire up the Mystery Machine. Time to get crackin', by cracky!
And I didn't even point out the most obvious clue.
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The OLD home of the OH SO PRETTY Hillbilly Mom, nestled in the heart of DoNotLand, where the Gummi Mary appeared on a plate of melted Gummi Bears and was unceremoniously half-devoured and dumped in the wastebasket. If this makes sense to you, you are at the right address. If not, stick around. You never know what might happen.
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17 comments:
Pardon me if I sit out on your poet-y fun and games. After the whirlwind chapter on poetry in my CompII class last semester, I am quite burnt out on the rhyming stuff. If I hadn't just returned home from a trip to the Devil's Playground on the Friday before a holiday, I'd do a critical analysis for ya, but doggonit, I just returned home from a trip to the Devil's Playground. I'm doing good to just continue breathing, blinking and remaining upright at this point.
Robert Frost, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"
Woohoo!
Oh..I almost forgot to tell you how impressed I am that you've finished half a book in a day. I'm only halfway through the book on marine life that I checked out a week (or two?) ago. And it has PICTURES! Big, full page pictures!
It wouldn't be reading for pleasure if I got in a rush, now would it!?
Diva,
Every party has a pooper...
Meanie,
Ya got it right, of course. I will publish your answer tomorrow...along with ALL THE OTHER RIGHT ANSWERS I'm expecting. Heh, heh.
I must confess the half book I've finished was one I checked out LAST week that is due back on July 3. I haven't started my other one due back that day. But still...mine don't have any pictures. And I must say, that James Frey book ain't any good if it's fiction, either. It's kind of boring. A million little pieces of boring. No wonder he pretended it was the truth.
And you really must check out THE STAND. Maybe you should check it out for 4 or 6 weeks.
Get after it, you Scooby Doos!
Nope, rather spend time with Velma by herself :-)
And you really must check out THE STAND. Maybe you should check it out for 4 or 6 weeks.
Laws, yes. You should Meanie. "The Complete, And Uncut, Edition" is best.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost. I liked The Stand, too.
M-O-O-N, that spells The Stand. Laws, yes, you must read the uncut version.
Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening by Frost?
Who's woods these are, I think I know....
OK, we have three winners: Meanie, Betty, and Dmn. I know there was no cheating, because I published all the answers at the same time.
SOMEbody is certainly knowledgeable in poetry, or had a good English teacher back in the day, or knows how to master Google.
I thought the most obvious clue was the 'books to read before I sleep', because, well, that's just like 'miles to go before I sleep', and Mr. Google takes you right to the answer with that one.
Anyhoo...thanks to all for playing, and to Lantern for giving us a peep into what makes him tick.
Geez, I go away for a week and HM stops depending on me to answer all her blog trivia.
And yeah, Velma is teh HAWT. Jinkies!
Stewyouvebeengone?
I depend on you for the sciency answers. I had no idea you were also a poetry maven.
Pardon me for asking, but is it the CARTOON Velma, or the Linda Cardellini Velma that you and Lantern are enchanted by? I'm sure neither of them would end a sentence with a preposition.
Linda Cardellini Velma
I call Linda, particularly in the (cut) change room scene :-)
Lantern,
OK, Stew will have to take the cartoon Velma.
I must concur that you've made the best choice. Not that I have a habit of looking at women in changing rooms or anything, but I remember seeing that scene on my sons' Scooby Doo dvd extras a few years ago. M-O-O-N! That spells: "I still remember that scene. Rrroowwwrrrr!"
Well, I was once an English major, so I do remember my Frost. My favorite poem, though not one of Frost's, is this:
We never know how high we are
Til we are called to rise
And then, if we are true to form
Our statures touch the skies.
The heroism we recite
Would be a daily thing,
Did not ourselves the cubits warp
For fear to be a king.
Who wrote it?
DarnYank,
Hmm...I was never an English major. Laws no! M-O-O-N spells "I'm lucky to be able to spell moon."
I am also not a great poetry buff, though I did have to read some in my college lit classes.
My first guess was Tennyson, because that iambic pentameter thing goin' on reminds me of The Eagle. But then I got to thinking it's probably from an American poet, so I thought of Whitman, but this poem is neither leafy, grassy, nor diverging in a wood. Sooo...I am going to guess Dickinson, because I don't know any other poets much more than William Carlos Williams, and he seems too modern and sparse and unrhyming for such a poem as this.
So my guess is Dickinson, but I don't know a title.
And I will leave you with my favorite poem from childhood. You don't have to guess the author, because I don't know who it is anyway. I found it in one of my grandma's books, and thought it quite profound. Here goes...
I never saw a purple cow.
I never hope to see one.
But I can tell you anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.
This now concludes the poetry recital.
OOPS! I meant to say 'iambic tetrameter'. Laws, yes! M-O-O-N spells: "Hillbilly Mom DOES know her numeriacal prefixes."
And she knows the second and fourth lines only have three feet, not four.
Just sayin'...
You are RIGHT, it is Dickinson, and the title, obviously enough is We Never Know How High We Are.
Your purple cow poem is a classic. How about this one:
Never make love by the garden gate
'Cause love may be blind,
But, the neighbor's ain't.
:-)
WooHoo! I got it. They don't call me the Queen of Trivia for nothin'.
Thank the Gummi Mary, I have neither a garden, nor a gate. But that workshop with no door in the middle of the field was another matter...
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