I was digging through an old box, trying to decide what needed to be sold at the flea market, what needed to go to goodwill and what just needed throwing out when I came upon a book I forgot I had... the Norton Book Of Light Verse...
I then forgot all about that stuff and have been sitting here reading old poems that I haven't read in years. Now light verse is that stuff that is fun and sometimes, if you think about it, has a message. It's often looked down upon, but it's usually written by very serious poets who just decided to have some fun. It's also the kind of poetry you liked when you were a kid, but then went to school and they ruined it for you. Most song lyrics would be considered light verse.
By the way, I don't think they've ever published a book called The Anthology of Ponderous Verse... although there's certainly enough of it around to cure insomnia...
here's a couple of my old faves, with a gardening theme...
The gardener's rule applies to youth and age;
When young sow 'wild oats', but when old grow sage.
H. J. Byron
Attack Of The Squash People
And thus the people every year
in the valley of humid July
did sacrifice themselves
to the long green phallic god
and eat and eat and eat.
They're coming, they're on us,
the long striped gourds, the silky
babies, the hairy adolescents,
the lumpy vast adults
like the trunks of green elephants.
Recite fifty zucchini recipes!
Zucchini tempura; creamed soup;
saute with olive oil and cumin,
tomatoes, onion; frittata;
casserole of lamb; baked
topped with cheese; marinated;
stuffed; stewed; driven
through the heart like a stake.
Get rid of old friends: they too
have gardens and full trunks.
Look for newcomers: befriend
them in the post office, unload
on them and run. Stop tourists
in the street. Take truckloads
to Boston. Give to your Red Cross.
Beg on the highway: please
take my zucchini, I have a crippled
mother at home with heartburn.
Sneak out before dawn to drop
them in other people's gardens,
in baby buggies at churchdoors.
Shot, smuggling zucchini into
mailboxes, a federal offense.
With a suave reptilian glitter
you bask among your raspy
fronds sudden and huge as
alligators. You give and give
too much, like summer days
limp with heat, thunderstoms
bursting their bags on our heads,
as we salt and freeze and pickle
for the too little to come.
I could keep typing these things forever... but I don't want to make huge posts...
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