Er, Terese -- what's wrong (or, should I say, right) with "oscillating consciousness"? Not sophomoric enough for y'?

Love your suggested revision ("wife" instead of "life") for the last line of Marion's poem!

But, yeah, really -- "Feeling Sorry for God" -- it's special, as Gilda used to say.

Where am I, Janice? Like God I am everywhere and nowhere, noting that most of the bad verse you people produce still rhymes and scans and makes sense, whereas the really bad stuff generally does none of these things. Here is a stanza by Sidney Dobell (of the Spasmodoc School).

Oh the wold, the wold,
Oh the wold, the wold,
Oh the winter stark,
Oh the level dark,
Oh the wold, the wold, the wold!

Theer's something about these old-type guys!

I've been following this thread with intense interest. This one has got to be the winner! I am cracking up!

Oh the wold, the wold,
Oh the wold, the wold,
Oh the winter stark,
Oh the level dark,
Oh the wold, the wold, the wold!

I was trying to write a sad limerick and came up with this little beauty:

To lose Paula White was a blow,
she was sorry for letting me go,
I was ok in bed,
but not brilliant, she said
and she thought it was right I should know.

Inspired by Holly:

To lose Paula White was a blow,
I was sorry for letting her go.
I'm willing to bet
that if we'd used a net
she wouldn't have died down below.

Wendy,

Here's one definition of "oscillate":

Mathematics. (of a function, sequence, etc.) to tend to no limit, including infinity: The sequence 0, 1, 0, 1, … oscillates.

It's too good for the BAD. I wonder if you had the mathematical connotation tucked away inside your hypothalamus all these years.

Oh, Terese, I want to be pedantical. The use of oscillate in your citation refers not to a function or sequence’s endless & effortless extension (tireless because mathematical), but to its behavior while so continuing. Conventionally, that means that its up-and-down y value moves between two limits (as you depict). On the complex plane, a similar sequence would be 0, i, 0, i, … .

If a different sequence were defined after rotating all values exactly 90 degrees [say, by multiplying by the square root if minus one (or “i”)], thereby using the usual vertical axis in place of the usual horizontal axis, one could define a sequence (but not a function), that would oscillate along the vertical between zero and a generalized horizontal value: 0, x, 0, x, 0, x … .

But I digress.

Allen

The Travelling Wanderer

She climbs aboard her horse, Old Sue,
They set their course for going to
A distant land, so far away.
They ride, some nights, most every day.
Like a swift arrow they range and roam
Until her mouth is flecked with foam,
Her muzzle's snorting like a jet,
Her flanks and withers soaked and wet
Behind, her tail, waves like a hand,
Their footprints clatter on the sand.
If asked to stop, though, each would say
In answer, just a gentle, Nay!

Frank

Editing in to thank Janice in advance - you guys may be good, but I'm confident I could win this contest without even trying!

Frank, that is beautiful. Seldom have I read worse. Your old nag will give Bob & Co. a run for their money. I can tell you have put a lot of work into your poem.

I just write it down as it comes to me (my angel muse, I guess) and I don't want to change a single pure word of my inspiration. My themes are less sophisticated, but they do express my deep thoughts.


Thoughts on the Sad Passage of Time

Oft fly my thoughts to that sweet Time
When I was but a child
To Mother dear and Father kind
Our humble cottage mild.

These modern Times with strife and pain
Have seldom silver linings shown.
My tears oft flow like autumn rain
For joyous days now flown.

(I thought that was rather clever in S2L3-4 to use both "flow" and "flown", echoing also as you probably immediately noted, the "fly" of S1L1 and alluding to the old proverb, "Doesn't time fly!"

TIME TRAVEL

Time doesn't fly. It takes a train.
It chugs along the track
and makes 'good time' when it sets out,
but bad time coming back.

No matter how you try to stop
the train, it is no use.
All its cars must share one fate,
from engine to caboose.

And when the final stop is reached,
there are no taxis waiting.
Time lies down upon a bench,
all done procrastinating.