PORRIDGE PROBLEM
When Mother Goose sat down one day
to write about some porridge,
she found at once, to her dismay,
it's
hard to rhyme with porridge!
Since oatmeal doesn't grow on trees
there's not much use for
forage,
and pots and jars are rather dull
(so much for
porridge storage).
Since even Mother Goose could not
explain what's meant by
borage,
she'd have to find another way
to versify her porridge.
[this one was written as a companion piece to "Pease Porridge Hot"]
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ARSE POETICA
A poem should be a series
of incomprehensibilities,
paradoxical images
that baffle the senses,
signposts for the clever elite
who know more than you.
A poem is made of wordless words
and silent sounds,
imparting meaning
through its meaninglessness.
A poem should not dictate, but be,
he dictated.
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LUPO's got first dibs on posting another one of mine, but I'll add it to the collection once able to do so
