Poetry Friday: Three Poem Parrot-ies after Herrick, Coleridge, and Parker
Happy Poetry Friday!
The thing I love most about writing this blog is that I get to meet so many wonderful and kooky characters…that is, poets. The latest to join NWR is David L. Harrison, who will be on the blog in all his wacky glory on September 10 — and you won’t want to miss it, because that guy is funny.
As part of his interview, I asked David to write a couplet on the spot. Hijinks ensued, in the form of a flurry of couplets on David’s blog, followed by a call for poem parodies or, as Pat Lewis calls them, “Parrot-ies” or “First Lines, Bowdlerized.” All sorts of great people — David, Jane Yolen, Pat Lewis, Robyn Hood Black, Joyce Sidman, Julie Krantz, Steven Withrow, Vikram Madan, Marilyn Singer, Charles Ghigna, and more! — contributed witty and imaginative takes on classic poems, all of which you can find right here at David’s blog.
Perhaps it was the pure silliness of the endeavor or the unfettered glee of the participants, but this challenge pulled me from the depths of a poetic slump, and I had a ball!
Today I’m sharing the three parodies I contributed to the mix, and I encourage you to go check out the others as well. I’ve put the parodies and the originals side by side for your viewing pleasure.
WANNA PLAY ALONG?
Feel free to leave your ditties in the comments here or on David’s blog!
Then head over to Sylvia Vardell’s place for the rest of the Poetry Friday stew. Oh, and I received my copy of The Poetry Friday Anthology, a marvelous tome edited by Sylvia Vardell and Janet Wong, which has been such a source of inspiration to me this past week. Hie thee to a bookstore!
TO THE SAILORS, TO MAKE MUCH OF LIMES
–by Renée, after Robert Herrick
GATHER ye mollusks while ye may,
Old Crust is off and sailing:
And this same sailor that sings today
Tomorrow will be paling.
The wondrous power of citrus, the lime—
The god of Vitamin C—
Stands ‘twixt him and his waning prime…
(Nearer my god to thee.)
‘Tis time to seize the plumpest fruit,
While youthful vigor reigns;
Before the fever, nasty brute,
Makes oatmeal out of brains.
So be not stupid, but slice those limes
Lest your health be topsy-turvy:
Eat key lime pie a hundred times
Or you may die of scurvy.
TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME
GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying :
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer ;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may go marry :
For having lost but once your prime
You may for ever tarry.
–by Renée, after Dorothy Parker
Parsley pains me;
tomato paste smears;
egg yolk stains me;
and onions cause tears.
Garlic is sticky;
beef, I can’t carve;
leeks are icky;
I might as well starve.
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp;
READ the rest here
THE MIME OF THE ANXIOUS FOREIGNER
–by Renée, after Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Spaniards, Spaniards, everywhere
And yo no hablo a word;
Signing, signing in the air–
theater of the absurd.
The very pangs began: ¡Jesús!
With hunger was I fraught.
Yea, did I cry and throw myself
upon the paella pot.
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER
–Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Water, water, everywhere
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.