Do not go gentle into that good bagel shop,
Old age should grump and pupate at cream-cheesed toruses,
Growl, growl, against the flying of the tripe.
Wrinkly men who bought and ate the fruit loaf in one bite
And learn, too late, though they greased it on its way
It did not go gently into their rumen, reticulum, omasum.
(Partly) bald men near toasters, who smell through phonon tunnels
Fumbly fingers could torque their toast and eat it anyway
Growl, growl against Drs bearing bagels.
And you, my friend, with nose pressed against the glass at 4 Upper Borough Walls
Curse, bless me with your (often) green words,
I pray. Do not go gentle into that good bagel shop
Growl, growl against the buying and the bite.
- improved version of verses 1, 4, 5 and 6 of Dylan Thomas’s poem
-Julie
BEES
by: You Know Who (1886-1918)
I think that I shall never see
A bagel lovely as a bee.
A bee whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sultry Mae West breast;
A bee that looks at TV 2,
And dreams of bagels, red white and blue;
A bee that has in Summer gots,
A bikini full of polka dots;
Upon whose stinger someone’s prest;
A plump e-qualia in finite jest;
Poems are made by gods like me,
But only queens can make a bee.
Comment by Dr. C. — March 11, 2009 @ 2:33 pm
Worst poem.
Ever.
I bow to you, sir. Once again, you prove your expertise (see the footnotes parody for further evidence).
Here’s a bit of another parody (scroll to the bottom of the linked page):
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast,
Can hardly look at God all day,
While lifting leafy arms to pray.
Where are her eyes, mouth, arms, and head?
Perhaps she lifts her legs instead.
Can that same tree in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair?
Perhaps her arms (or legs?) are hairy.
A tree like that should make one wary.
That bosom on which snow has lain?
You’ll search a tree for it in vain.
Unless . . . a hairy bosom too?
That tree belongs inside a zoo.
Comment by unrealnature — March 11, 2009 @ 2:53 pm