GOOD TIME MINUTES

MINUTES OF THE POETRY CLUB, September 15, 2021

Intrepid Convener Gary, as always, set our task: to write two Limmericks [sic] in the style of Gary.  I amended the task.             

Limerick 1:  AND NOW, SO DO I.

There once was a bird artist named Edward Lear,                                                                  whose poems of  5 lines were both pithy and clear.   

A limerick, it is, he said with panache.                                                                                          Add witty and bawdy, agreed Ogden Nash.

But Gary wants more — 4 couplets, 8 lines,                                                                                     to capture his many cavorters’  entwines.

Then comes to mind  dad, who loved  Nash’s stuff,                                                                      and thought 5 true lines were poetry enough.

And, now, so do I.

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Discussion:  I quite liked my own effort, especially finding out that Edward Lear was a bird artist, and, I thought, cleverly arguing for the traditional format which I then used in my second limerick, but no comments and only very modest applause followed.

A surprise blueberry — colorful, maybe tasty, wrinkled, lovely.

LIMERICK 2:  YOU GOTTA HAVE HEART

 We of the Landmark, an unruly lot, may not act with amazing grace.

But our lobby bobby is up to the task of helping us save our own face.

He’s a   mixer, a fixer,                                                                                                                              a tonic, an elixir,

A man for all seasons, a man for all reasons is Devin, the heart of our place.

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Discussion:  Frankly, I thought this one bordered on excellent, but                                          Steve noted, “You should have titled it, “Ode to Devin.”                                                        I pointed out, ”Devin’s not dead.”                                                                                              Steve: “You don’t have to be dead to have an ode.  Dee [another Poetry Club regular] titled her poem to her dead friend, “In Memoriam.”                                                                Moi: She retitled it when her friend died, and she didn’t call it an “ode” when her friend was alive. [I checked later and Steve was right.  You can be “oded” and alive, but I didn’t tell him and kept the original title.]                                                                                                     Moi cont’d:  Besides, you are just mad because I said that “banshim” is not the word for ‘male banshee,” and    is probably not a word at all.  More likely it’s “banshehee.”  [I checked later.  A male banshee is a “ban-he,” which is not nearly as much fun and should be changed, at leahst, maybe to “ban-hee.” ]                                                                                      Steve:  “Banshehee” is just silly, doesn’t rhyme with “gym”, and also is probably not a word. 

Gary signaled that it was time to stop, so I graciously did not question Steve’s credibility as an Irish word fiddler.  There is always next month’s meeting.

Unruly hat on an unruly head — get the mask.  Time to go rogue.

  And one last haiku for the road. 

  Gary is GREA—AT!                                                                                                                               I love Poetry Club. where                                                                                                       differences can be fun.

Thinking of you, Marcia, and fondly remembering Kathy Lewis’ poetry class at Metro State.  Good thoughts.