Don't know if I had read that particular Billy Collins poem, but just did. The line that spoke to me was the one having to do with the 'author' being driven mad by his jingling collar. I always knew that bugged dogs and now I know. Still, I find the last line laughable. "the dogs in poetry, the cats and all the others in prose." Dogs is fine animules, but poets they ain't. They do words and phrases alright, but I suspect they pee on haikus and chew up odes. Cats neither. Now, birds...
You don't know dwawgs the way I do, though you were Ouachita's favorite other than Connie.
Cheerio and Speckle? No powerty there. Yes, that's what dwawgs call it. Poetry, indeed. That's for the Tall Folk. But Marley? Haiku is her language. Mought be the Akita, Mought be the Pit.
The jangling collar got me, too. Best line.
But you ain't a dwawg guy. YOU'VE had cats for as long as I knowed you, and that's a LAWNG time. Don't remember any dwawg in your care, or verse-vicea. I miss my cats. But I ain't never been without a dwawg since Early On, when they weren't really even MINE. Since Ouachita I can't seem to get away from them. Like I'd want to. As to birds, I think they'd just as soon chomp up a sonnet or play, forget the odes and haikus. Anything for a soft nest, that's what they say. But, like most of us, they seem to like haikus best.
Birds can't talk, can they? I'm teaching my dwawgs to talk. Soon you'll vote for them.
5 comments:
One of my favorite Billy Collins pomes. Though the face is prolly diff'runt.
Reverend, your revenant is not relevant.
I merely refer to your reveling in the relevance to my preferred revenant when I reveal my revered revelation .
Or not.
Don't know if I had read that particular Billy Collins poem, but just did. The line that spoke to me was the one having to do with the 'author' being driven mad by his jingling collar. I always knew that bugged dogs and now I know. Still, I find the last line laughable. "the dogs in poetry, the cats and all the others in prose." Dogs is fine animules, but poets they ain't. They do words and phrases alright, but I suspect they pee on haikus and chew up odes. Cats neither. Now, birds...
You don't know dwawgs the way I do, though you were Ouachita's favorite other than Connie.
Cheerio and Speckle? No powerty there. Yes, that's what dwawgs call it. Poetry, indeed. That's for the Tall Folk. But Marley? Haiku is her language. Mought be the Akita, Mought be the Pit.
The jangling collar got me, too. Best line.
But you ain't a dwawg guy. YOU'VE had cats for as long as I knowed you, and that's a LAWNG time. Don't remember any dwawg in your care, or verse-vicea. I miss my cats. But I ain't never been without a dwawg since Early On, when they weren't really even MINE.
Since Ouachita I can't seem to get away from them. Like I'd want to.
As to birds, I think they'd just as soon chomp up a sonnet or play, forget the odes and haikus. Anything for a soft nest, that's what they say. But, like most of us, they seem to like haikus best.
Birds can't talk, can they?
I'm teaching my dwawgs to talk.
Soon you'll vote for them.
Post a Comment