Postal Poetry
In a letter postmarked on the 23rd of August, 2004, the Dear Miss Beloved Hannah Catabia sent me sundry snippets of text from the varied books at her immediate disposal. These have been randomly incorporated into the poem below. Some of the quotes will be quite recognizable to those who have read the works, so the first to comment on this post correctly indicating a quote will get, let’s say, 3000 bonus points. In the interest of collecting college e-mails in a fun and interesting way, everyone e-mail me (mjb245@cornell.edu) a fragment of text—of your own or someone else’s composition—of no longer than 10 words as well as your e-mail address of choice for the coming year and I will assemble the text into a poem and the e-mails into a list to be posted on the blog for everyone’s convenience.
Waggling Our Eyebrows
As little billiard balls continually colliding with each other
We, the gay companions of the woodland nymphs—
Robert and Elfa the laundress the finest—
Find wonder and melancholy disillusionment,
Including yokes on the front and back.
Little calf, little calf, kneel by my side:
Go and get deloused with
Lively, Patriotic romps, replete with exuberant bombast
Down on the boat’s gunwale.
For public copulation with a white mare
(Do you want a horse?
Whose knees are tottering beneath him?)
A prominent advertisement of the light-hearted English country girl,
Also a little billiard ball, you know,
Versed in security analysis and portfolio management
Settles the scores of hundreds of years.
Electoral politics is a soup of many ingredients,
A personal god quaquaquaqua,
And parades across Trafalgar Square burning again:
That towering place, gabled and huge,
I ‘uz powerful sorry you’s killed a man tried to take Larry’s pocketbook.
Surely the Squijim, they were all very different from her—
The subject of caustic comment
Behind the chimney pots into interminable distances.
Would she ever be compensated for its dilatoriness?
As an eyebrow finds an eye and to each ball a pocket?
O! then began the tempest of my soul,
Bifurcated in accordance with corresponding kinds,
We all were swollen well-nigh to bursting.
And burst we did, in a rain of blinking billiard balls,
Landing head first in the future.
Waggling Our Eyebrows
As little billiard balls continually colliding with each other
We, the gay companions of the woodland nymphs—
Robert and Elfa the laundress the finest—
Find wonder and melancholy disillusionment,
Including yokes on the front and back.
Little calf, little calf, kneel by my side:
Go and get deloused with
Lively, Patriotic romps, replete with exuberant bombast
Down on the boat’s gunwale.
For public copulation with a white mare
(Do you want a horse?
Whose knees are tottering beneath him?)
A prominent advertisement of the light-hearted English country girl,
Also a little billiard ball, you know,
Versed in security analysis and portfolio management
Settles the scores of hundreds of years.
Electoral politics is a soup of many ingredients,
A personal god quaquaquaqua,
And parades across Trafalgar Square burning again:
That towering place, gabled and huge,
I ‘uz powerful sorry you’s killed a man tried to take Larry’s pocketbook.
Surely the Squijim, they were all very different from her—
The subject of caustic comment
Behind the chimney pots into interminable distances.
Would she ever be compensated for its dilatoriness?
As an eyebrow finds an eye and to each ball a pocket?
O! then began the tempest of my soul,
Bifurcated in accordance with corresponding kinds,
We all were swollen well-nigh to bursting.
And burst we did, in a rain of blinking billiard balls,
Landing head first in the future.
posted by Michael Barany at 4:21 PM
5 Comments:
We all know I like bonus points, so let me correctly identify "O! Then began the tempest of my soul" as a snippet from Clarence's monologue in Richard III. (I just saw Ian McKellen's film version and heartily recommend it to everyone, Shakespeare-lover or popcorn movie-lover alike.)
Without refering back to my notes, I'd say we have a winner.
Still accepting submissions for the other lines.
500 extra bonus points for being first, ol' roomy.
Oh, David.
I am very appreciative that you recognise the Clarence quote, but I'm going to have to contradict you're recommendation of the Ian McKellen's Richard. I remember seeing it just before I left for TASP and being really disappointed by it. I hated the edits. I mean, he cut old Margret down to a couple of lines in the middle somewhere. Among other things. I do give it props, though, for setting it during World War I. That was kind of creative. But don't listen to me anyway; I'm extraordinarily bitter and I hate film Shakespeare.
Margaret's also missing from the Olivier film version, I think. (Although since you hate film Shakespeare, Hannah, I guess that doesn't help.) One of the endearing things about the McKellen film is that the opening jazz vocal actually sets lines from Marlowe to music...isn't that so CUTE?
Yes, it is cute. I don't think it fits the play entirely well, but, yes, it is very, very cute.
Post a Comment
<< Home