As a few lone stars were blinking, I betook myself to thinking
When I checked the weather on Thursday, it said it was supposed to rain through Tuesday.... =/ But it rained really hard last night and then cleared up today. (The weather forecast in the paper today was "Morning showers?" Yes, with a question mark, because apparently they're admitting that they don't actually know anything about the weather. XD) So, since it was a nice day today, my parents and I went to the Botanic Garden, which was a bit on the muddy side, but very pretty. I brought my digital camera with me, but I forgot to check the batteries so they died after only a few pictures. :( I'll have to go back again soon so I can get more pretty pictures. It was nice to wander around the gardens, though. :)
Happy Poetry Month! ;) To start off, I bring you a parody poem, since today is April Fools' Day.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Once it happened I'd been dining, on my couch I slept reclining,
And awoke with moonlight shining brightly on my bedroom floor,
It was in the bleak December, Christmas night as I remember,
But I had no dying ember, as Poe had, when near the door,
Like a gastronomic goblin just beside my chamber door
Stood a bird,--and nothing more.
And I said, for I'm no craven, "Are you Edgar's famous raven,
Seeking as with him a haven--were you mixed up with Lenore?"
Then the bird uprose and fluttered, and this sentence strange he uttered,
"Hang Lenore," he mildly muttered; "you have seen me once before,
Seen me on this festive Christmas, seen me surely once before,
I'm the Goose--and nothing more."
Then he murmured, "Are you ready?" and with motion slow and steady,
Straight he leapt upon my bed; he simply gave a stifled roar;
And I cried, "As I'm a sinner, at a Goose-Club I was winner,
'T is a memory of my dinner, which I ate at halfpast four,
Goose well-stuffed with sage and onions, which I ate at halfpast four."
Quoth he hoarsely, "Eat no more!"
Said I, "I've enjoyed your juices, breast and back; but tell me, Goose, is
This revenge, and what the use is of your being such a bore?
For Goose-flesh I will no more ax, if you'll not sit on my thorax,
Go try honey mixed with borax, for I hear your throat is sore,
You speak gruffly, though too plainly, and I'm sure your throat is sore."
Quoth the nightmare, "Eat no more!"
"Goose!" I shrieked out, "leave, oh, leave me, surely you don't mean to grieve me,
You are heavy, pray reprieve me, now my penance must be o'er;
Though to-night you've brought me sorrow, comfort surely comes to-morrow,
Some relief from those I'd borrow at my doctor's ample store."
Quoth the goblin, "Eat no more!"
And that fat Goose, never flitting, like a nightmare still is sitting
With me all the night emitting words that thrill my bosom's core,
Now throughout the Christmas season, while I lie and gasp and wheeze, on
Me he sits until my reason nothing surely can restore,
While that Goose says, "Eat no more!"
~ "The Goblin Goose"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In case you couldn't tell, this poem is a parody of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven". I got "The Goblin Goose" from Poetic Parodies, edited by Martin Gardner, which in turn got the poem from another parody anthology in which the poem is attributed to "Punch" with no author or date. Hence the lack of author credit.
Happy Poetry Month! ;) To start off, I bring you a parody poem, since today is April Fools' Day.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Once it happened I'd been dining, on my couch I slept reclining,
And awoke with moonlight shining brightly on my bedroom floor,
It was in the bleak December, Christmas night as I remember,
But I had no dying ember, as Poe had, when near the door,
Like a gastronomic goblin just beside my chamber door
Stood a bird,--and nothing more.
And I said, for I'm no craven, "Are you Edgar's famous raven,
Seeking as with him a haven--were you mixed up with Lenore?"
Then the bird uprose and fluttered, and this sentence strange he uttered,
"Hang Lenore," he mildly muttered; "you have seen me once before,
Seen me on this festive Christmas, seen me surely once before,
I'm the Goose--and nothing more."
Then he murmured, "Are you ready?" and with motion slow and steady,
Straight he leapt upon my bed; he simply gave a stifled roar;
And I cried, "As I'm a sinner, at a Goose-Club I was winner,
'T is a memory of my dinner, which I ate at halfpast four,
Goose well-stuffed with sage and onions, which I ate at halfpast four."
Quoth he hoarsely, "Eat no more!"
Said I, "I've enjoyed your juices, breast and back; but tell me, Goose, is
This revenge, and what the use is of your being such a bore?
For Goose-flesh I will no more ax, if you'll not sit on my thorax,
Go try honey mixed with borax, for I hear your throat is sore,
You speak gruffly, though too plainly, and I'm sure your throat is sore."
Quoth the nightmare, "Eat no more!"
"Goose!" I shrieked out, "leave, oh, leave me, surely you don't mean to grieve me,
You are heavy, pray reprieve me, now my penance must be o'er;
Though to-night you've brought me sorrow, comfort surely comes to-morrow,
Some relief from those I'd borrow at my doctor's ample store."
Quoth the goblin, "Eat no more!"
And that fat Goose, never flitting, like a nightmare still is sitting
With me all the night emitting words that thrill my bosom's core,
Now throughout the Christmas season, while I lie and gasp and wheeze, on
Me he sits until my reason nothing surely can restore,
While that Goose says, "Eat no more!"
~ "The Goblin Goose"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In case you couldn't tell, this poem is a parody of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven". I got "The Goblin Goose" from Poetic Parodies, edited by Martin Gardner, which in turn got the poem from another parody anthology in which the poem is attributed to "Punch" with no author or date. Hence the lack of author credit.