Tag Archives: sarcasm

Short poem: RHL, ‘God – pfft!’

1 Reply

All the things God could do,
all the things he doesn’t:
stop earthquakes and disease,
world war between first cousins…
Complaints at God may seem
rashly impertinent–
But so what? Life shows God
clearly omnimpotent.

*****

Not much to say about my rude little poems, except that a lot of them get published in Rat’s Ass Review, whose Spring/Summer issue has just (optimistically) been published – thanks, Roderick Bates! And also, well, I guess I was proud of the poem’s last word, though I’m definitely not the first person to think of it.

Cartoon: Matt Rosemier

Short poem: ‘On a Magazine Editor’

Leave a reply

He puts on his apron every day
and dusts, arranges, bests;
but the more finicky his entryway,
the fewer, it seems, the guests.

*****

This little poem was sparked by the difficulties I have in trying to submit to some magazines and in trying to contribute to some discussions. Eventually I give up. And then make snarky comments.

It was recently published in The Asses of Parnassus – thanks, Brooke Clark (who makes the contribution process very simple!)

Illustration: “Man holding an envelope with a feather duster. [front]” by Boston Public Library is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Poem: ‘Homage From British Expats’

2 Replies

Thou noble, purest British race!
Thy children we,
Inheriting thy every trace;
From thy straight back, unmoving face,
We learn the truest social grace,
Pomposity.

To thee the new is never good,
’Tis duty shirked.
Thou’dst never think, and much less brood;
Thou duty-bound eatst wooden food;
Thou ever ramrod-straight hast stood,
And never worked.

Britain! Served on a silver tray
Thine Empire’s tea –
Respectfully we beg to say
We praise thee, but we cannot stay,
We have our duty far away,
Escaping thee.

*****

This is the third of the poems recently published by Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, and I’m pleased at how different the three of them are. ‘Ultimate Control’ is a Science Fiction sonnet, ‘Ticking Away’ is a meditation on time, life and death, and this one was written almost 50 years ago in reaction against (some aspects of) being sent to boarding school in England.

A little personal context: I was raised as an expat in the Bahamas by my Danish father and English mother. After five years of Church of England primary boarding school in Jamaica (when at least I came home three times a year) I went to England for five more years of boarding school, and came home rarely. The countryside setting of Stowe was delightful, and I got a good education with a lot of poetry, and I learned sarcasm. It all uprooted me from being fully Bahamian, but failed to make me fully English. In the 1970s the Bahamas didn’t want me and I didn’t want England. So… Denmark, then Canada, then the US, and finally the Bahamas again as a foreign resident. I have been an expat all my life – and frequently sarcastic about it.

The poem is a nonce form – I used to produce them easily in my 20s, I wish I still did. It’s in iambics rhyming ABAAAB, with four feet to the A lines and only two to the B lines – the last line of each verse being a punch line and the shortness of the line helping strengthen that effect.

“Image” by spock-ola is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.