Musing

At a loss for a topic this month (not an uncommon experience), I resort yet again to gap-filling nonsense.

Bringing enlightenment

We sit in our studies and think

Of the time we can stop for a drink.

Then in through the casement ¹

Comes welcome displacement

And, forthwith, we feel in the pink.²

The reluctance of our fickle muse

To produce a rondeau we might use

Or a haiku or ode

Or a Da Vinci Code ³

Plunges us into Keatsian blues. ⁴

But we rise to each challenge. We’re fighters,

Agents provocateurs and inciters

Of readers to sample

Each thrilling example

Of purple prose what’s wrote by writers. ⁵

An Abecedarian rap,

Ballads Bawdy or just arrant pap,

Cunning Cantos Dramatic

Epics Extra-Emphatic,

We can really write any old rubbish.

Of our value this verse is the proof

We litterateurs aren’t aloof.

To supply what you read

We follow the creed:

‘Troof is beauty and beauty is troof’. ⁶

¹ No, of course I don’t have a ‘casement’ but ‘window’ or ‘door’ wouldn’t rhyme.

² Of course I never use such an expression or experience such a condition as ‘in the pink’ (I’m an existentialist, after all), but again, it’s the tyranny of rhyme, dear people, rhyme.

³ It’s important to note that, however complaisant my muse, I’m incapable of writing any of the forms or works mentioned.

⁴ Academics are advised, before using any of the above in a scholarly publication, to verify that Keats did have the blues or even knew what they were.

⁵ This is a first draft and may need some editorial input.

⁶ See 5 above.