John. J. Williamson: Geordie Near Grasmere
Ah went oot for a langish waalk
on me ain, with me byeuts on,
reet ower the moontains and doon
by the lake, an’ thowt to mesel’,
Canny yella flooers them, like.
* * * * * *
Joan Butler: William, Where Are You?
Wordsworth! Thou shouldst be living at this time;
Poets have need of thee. Their writing shows
No symmetry, no grace, no form, no rhyme,
No more than chopped-up random chunks of prose.
It tells not whence it came or whither goes;
‘Free Verse’, they call it. Free as what? The birds?
And who could call it verse? Heav’n only knows!
Show us once more the great, true worth of words!
* * * * * *
Steve Redwood: A Lakeland Lawyer Reflects.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be.
But she is in her grave, and O!
She never paid my fee!
But, though, indeed, a tidy sum
My grief will soon abate.
Miss Lucy’s fee will now become
A charge on her estate!
* * * * * *
Elizabeth Horrocks: Parody Proof
Poetry can be quite hard,
When mocking an uneven bard –
I quote him by the letter:
"I've measured it from side to side
'Tis three foot long and two foot wide" –
I really can't do better!
* * * * * *
L.A. Mereoie: Reply To A Wandering Wit
O cuckoo, shall I call thee bird
Or but a wandering voice?
Dear William, I call you ‘absurd’ −
I have no other choice.
Your question’s one the world derides −
All scientists assure us
We’re birds, and nothing else besides!
Yours, Cuculus canorus.
* * * * * *
Mae Scanlan: W. W. Speaks (Via planchette)
Earth hath not anyone to show more dense
As he who occupies the White House now.
One has to truly wonder at just how
He got elected, for it makes no sense.
His mind is small, his ego is immense;
For things that others did, he takes a bow.
One fears he’ll cause the world to go kaPOW!
But if he falls, impeached, Great God!, it’s Pence!
* * * * * *
Jerome Betts: Feet On The Ground
“I got such a shock when I finally
got to the Lake District and saw
sheep droppings everywhere.”
- Susan de Sola
She read, in her college days, reams
On the fells and the flowers and the birds
Unprepared in her daffodil dreams
For Lake District turf topped with turds.
