Friday, June 5, 2009

Poetry Corner

In days of yore, chivalrous young men wrote and recited Odes; i.e., lovely poems dedicated to their ladies faire (that's medieval for "fair", which is really old-school for "pretty").

This they did to:

1) expound on their love's greatest qualities and

2) show their undying, single-minded, and often obsessive devotion towards them, mostly due to the stuff outlined in #1.



Well, just by chance I happened to find myself in the Poetry Corner this week. Truth be told, it was the police who happened to find me there--a mere 36 hours after I was declared missing. In any event, I decided to take advantage of the situation and write an Ode of my own.

This I did to:

1) expound on my love's greatest qualities...etc., etc. and

2) show once and for all why this tradition needed to die a very long time ago.


Ann Coulter Is My Kind Of Wench

With legs like 2 twigs
And jaws like a wrench,
Stands Ann Coulter,
My kind of wench.

When conserves are in power—
Nay, in command,
She slaps at poor liberals
With the back of her hand.

Ann bites off their heads
And eats them for lunch
When asked, “Have another?”
She says, “Yes, thanks a bunch”.

And then sharpens her shoe
And hikes up her gown
And kicks at poor liberal,
But only when down.

For when libs are in power—
Under cover of night,
Ann crawls under a rock
And remains out-of-sight.

But if you follow the slime
And you follow the stench
You’ll find Ann Coulter,
My kind of wench.








Forsooth! My flaxen vixen.

7 comments:

Chris @ Maugeritaville said...

Funny stuff, my man! And I like the quiz one below as well. Thanks for popping by my place, you'll have to come by again when there's actually a "real" post as opposed to the award one.

Great stuff, I'll be following!

Dave said...

Thanks for the kind words. Being a man in the education field as you are, I am sure you appreciated the intellectual content inherent in my posts. As you know, a mind is a terrible thing to waist.

Jeff said...

Good laugh when I needed one on a tough weekend. Well done, sir.

Dave said...

Thanks Jeff. Hope all is well. If you'd like, I'd have Ann come and visit--for even more laughs, you quivering, godless liberal (Her words, not mine).

Shawn said...

If anything, you've prolonged the death of poetry with this brilliant work. If you ever write a book, I would title it "Ann Coulter is My Kind of Wench" and begin it with this poem. Then write The End. Nothing else.

shopgirl101 said...

Dave- You are a true poet! I think I may have to frame this and hang it in my house.

Dave said...

Shawn: Are you saying that poetry is dying, and I am prolonging it OR that I am prolonging the amount of time before it dies? Either way, I'll make sure your basement is one of my stops on my pending book tour.


shopgirl101: Thank you for the kind and encouraging words. My wife said something similar to me today--only she omitted the word "frame" and substituted the word "you" for "it".