Well, here’s to that
Spunky little green stink
Bug that just upped
And clinked down dead on my laptop,
Kayoed by the treacherous light,
With me in blind pursuit
Of one more sweet-smelling,
Charming moving deathless line—
Oh dear lifeless little bugger, thanks
For taking the time,
For stopping me short
But not quite smack in time,
Sorry for this too,
Too precious rhyme.
Pity about that 'spunky little green stink bug', dead as a doormouse, 'kayoed by the... light'. Great poem here, Vassilis. I can imagine it all. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteExcellent!
ReplyDeleteAn excellent ear for rhythms: and good eye for falling "stink bugs".
Reminds me of a poem Brodsky wrote about a buzzing fly: hundreds of lines on the fly's progress around the great poet's little apartment.
Elisabeth,
ReplyDeleteAh, yes them stink bugs--in summer they have the nasty habit of poking their noses into almost ripe tomatoes and slowly rotting them--so, no real pity--just the poetic type!
Conrad,
I'm not familiar with Brodsky's ode to a buzzing fly but it's probably much better than
this one!
Thanks to you both for your buzzes.
Wow. Okay, boys and girls, time to come in and wash your hands!
ReplyDeleteThe sound of scraping my throat is coming first!
ReplyDeleteMr,Zambaras you are full of surprises! :O)
I washed my hands in pure innocence,nononsense!
You're on a roll, Vassilis! "Like butter," as they say...
ReplyDeleteWilliam,
ReplyDeleteSpoken like a true farmer but Aleksandra has the first word; Joe's comments remind me of that old Frankie Laine song "Rawhide"--"Rolling, rolling, rolling, keep them doggies rolling".
Thanks to y'all for moseying on by!