Averse to Trump, America's poets fight back with words

ap ^ | Jan. 13, 2017 | WILLIAM J. KOLE

[bk1000]

And if you don’t like that one, I heard this one about a man from Nantucket...

[HeadOn]

Nicely done. [insert applause here]

[HeadOn]

Ha! I only like them if they tell a story. Pretty much got to rhyme, too... “Casey at the Bat”, “It Couldn’t be Done”, etc.

Come to think of it, most of my favorites have a little humor, and teach a lesson.

[blueunicorn6]

American Poetry has become one MFA writing for another MFA.

And if you are wondering what MFA stands for, yeah, it does stand for that.

[BlueLancer]

The Charge of the Light Brigade?

[Buckeye McFrog]

I can’t take credit.

I stole that from the late Tom Hritz, a humor columnist in the old Pittsburgh Press. He wrote that for a piece in the 80’s about a stupid program they had to post poetry in buses and streetcars.

[BlueLancer]

"Come to think of it, most of my favorites have a little humor, and teach a lesson."

That's why I'm a fan of Al Stewart ...

Now I've got my payment
For the service that I gave
They've given me my ticket
To this place beyond the grave
I suppose it's kind of funny
I suppose it's kind of sad
Thinking back on all the times we had

But it's kind of hot and smoky
In this ante-room to Hell
And I won't make up a story
'Cause you know the truth so well
It's much too late to worry
That we never had a chance
And when Joe the Georgian gets here
We will dance, dance dance
When Joe the Georgian gets here
We will dance

We all set off together
On this sorry ship of state
When the captain took the fever
We were hijacked by the mate
And he steered us through the shadows
Upon an angry tide
And cast us one by one over the side

But it's kind of hot and smoky
In this ante-room to Hell
And I won't make up a story
'Cause you know the truth so well
It's much too late to worry
That we never had a chance
And when Joe the Georgian gets here
We will dance, dance dance
When Joe the Georgian gets here
We will dance

There's Kamenev, Zinoviev,
Bukharin and the rest
We're sharpening our pitchforks
And we're heating up the ends
We've got a few surprises
For the mate when he appears
I hope he likes the next few million years

And it's kind of hot and smoky
In this anteroom to Hell
And I won't make up a story
'Cause you know the truth so well
It's much too late to worry
That we never had a chance
And when Joe the Georgian gets here
We will dance, dance dance
When Joe the Georgian gets here
We will dance

Joe the Georgian
Al Stewart

[HeadOn]

Yeah - That’s a good one. Heroic.

[HeadOn]

Never heard that one. I like it.

[philled]

While Trump losing the poets is bad, I’m going to reserve judgement until I hear what the mimes have to say.

[Mark17]

There once were poets galore
With Trump they wanted to war
He didn't care beans
They acted like teens
In the water, they only had one oar.

[Elsie]

or even QUEER poet...

[Elsie]

We’ll will surely see,
if competition really there be.
Why waste our time,
to read silly rhyme;
if it ain’t gonna have the correct meter and all that other stuff that goes along with making a witty limerick?

[Elsie]

Excellent!

[Elsie]

[Leep]

Do these modern poets suffer? I hope so.:)

[Elsie]

Little Orfant Annie : Revisited

 

The Ghost of Little Orphan Annie on Election Eve

The ghost of orphan Annie has somethin’ strong to say,
Things you might’ve heard before but may have brushed away.
About payin’ those taxes, is that so very bad?
Or are ya worryin’ and fretin’ and makin’ yourself so sad?
For all the roads an’ bridges, schools, an’ parks an’ like
Just let them go to dust?  Well, that would be a fright.
If you’ re complainin’ then finishin’ with a shout
The goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!

There’s ways to pull together as Americans will do
But a bake sale to cure a kid with cancer, mumps or flu?
Or how about a doctor for the child ill next door?
Or are ya a listenin’ to that politician’s unrelenting roar.
Now payin’ fair share, that’s not a scary scheme.
Those with more wealth could help, or so it would seem.
So let’s all pitch in together, please, don’t be a lout
Or  the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!!

Are ya balkin’ to give to causes that benefit us all?
Or is money is better spent for merchants at the mall?
With the social security Grandma can live her own
Rather than in your basement without a telephone.
And those that will follow you, fond an’ dear,
Take care of them, please, an’ dry the orphan’s tear
An’ help the poor an’ needy ones that cluster all about,
Or the goblins will get ya if ya don’t watch out!!!

So who are the goblins, do they hide in the night?
They’re just right in front of ya, in your plain sight!
They tell ya that science is not on your side.
They tell ya not to worry, take your car for ride.
They point to your working pal as stealing your dough.
When its unregulated Wall Street that’s really the foe.
They make up a story so you’ll hate those abroad,
Those many poor souls, also victims of fraud.
Think: is it your anger what this is all about?
Then the goblins have got ya, ya didn’t watch out!!!!

 

https://psalmboxkey.com/2012/10/28/little-orphan-annie-the-poem-revisited/

 

[Elsie]

Aw...  shucks...

 

[Elsie]

Come to think of it, most of my favorites have a little humor, and teach a lesson.

---

Cowboy Poetry

by Bill Jones

 

 

 

Jake, the rancher, went one day
to fix a distant fence.
The wind was cold and gusty
and the clouds rolled gray and dense.

As he pounded the last staples in
and gathered tools to go,
The temperature had fallen,
the wind and snow began to blow.

When he finally reached his pickup,
he felt a heavy heart.
From the sound of that ignition,
he knew it wouldn't start.

So Jake did what most of us
would do if we had been there.
He humbly bowed his balding head
and sent aloft a prayer.

As he turned the key for the last time,
he softly cursed his luck.
They found him three days later,
frozen stiff in that old truck.

Now Jake had been around in life
and done his share of roaming.
But when he saw Heaven, he was shocked --
it looked just like Wyoming!

Of all the saints in Heaven,
his favorite was St. Peter.
(Now, this line ain't needed
but it helps with rhyme and meter)

So they set and talked a minute or two,
or maybe it was three.
Nobody was keeping' score --
in Heaven time is free.

"I've always heard," Jake said to Pete,
"that God will answer prayer,
But one time I asked for help,
well, he just plain wasn't there."

"Does God answer prayers of some,
and ignore the prayers of others?
That don't seem exactly square --
I know all men are brothers."

"Or does he randomly reply,
without good rhyme or reason?
Maybe, it's the time of day,
the weather or the season."

"Now I ain't trying to act smart,
it's just the way I feel.
And I was wondering', could you tell me --
what the heck's the deal?!"

Peter listened very patiently
and when Jake was done,
There were smiles of recognition,
and he said, "So, you're the one!!"

"That day your truck, it wouldn't start,
and you sent your prayer a flying,
You gave us all a real bad time,
with hundreds of us trying."

"A thousand angels rushed,
to check the status of your file,
But you know, Jake, we hadn't heard
from you in quite a long while."

"And though all prayers are answered,
and God ain't got no quota,
He didn't recognize your voice,
and started a truck in Minnesota."

[Elsie]

Notice:

The aforementioned limerick(?) has been flagged by the Department of Redundancy Department.