“Comic Verse Composed in Irregular Rhythm…Badly Written or Expressed.”

Making bits of rhyme improves the time.
It isn’t doggerel but catterel.
There’s insouciance for you, and subtlety.
There’s quirk for you, and some for me.
Is Hello, Kitty societally sly or merely wry?

Improve the time. Make bits of rhyme.

Copyright © 2011, Richard Laurence Baron.

Driving East to Edom, She’s Going, Going... (Casual Sonnet)

“Traveling to Edom.” Long e, short d-o-m.
A friend is driving there tomorrow,
Going east to see the sights.
Going for the antiques, going for the day.
That part of Texas is more green than red.
Will she find a worker of the ground along the way?
A keeper of the sheep?
Or is an Esau waiting for her?

She may share his pottage at the Shed Café,
A strictly down-home menu, every dish an antique tale.
Birthrights sold up by the register.
And Abraham so recently deceased.
Driving east to Edom, she’s
Going, going, g-o-n-e.

Copyright © 2009, Richard Laurence Baron.

“Jesus is the Sticker on the Bumper of My Soul” Gets Real Lyrics.*

When your engine’s barely pulling
And the ride is kinda rough,
When your life is really feeling
Like it might be getting tough.

There’s a fine hands-on solution
Sure to ease the way you go:
Let the Lord be your mechanic!
He’s your all-time maintenance pro.

Well now Jesus is the sticker on the bumper of my soul.
He’s my whole trip’s ambition, the sum total of my goal.
And I’m getting better mileage from every tank of fuel
‘Cause my chassis’s free of evil and I know that I’m no fool.

Your lower tailgate panel
Could be dragging in the dirt.
You might find that some corrosion’s
Eaten out the engine skirt.

And that fender’s gotten dented
From your sinning, straying ways.
It is time you drove your spirit
To the good Lord’s service bays.

Well now Jesus is the sticker on the bumper of my soul.
He’s my whole trip’s ambition, the sum total of my goal.
And I’m getting better mileage from every tank of fuel
‘Cause my chassis’s free of evil and I know that I’m no fool.

Oh yes Jesus is the sticker on the bumper of my soul.
His Gospel is my owner’s guide, his Book my holy scroll.
He has polished out the wrinkles so it’s mighty clear to see
That I’m driving straight to glory, that my trip is heavenly.

*The song title was one of several created by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett for their novel Good Omens, published originally in 1990 and later updated. So the title is their property. However, these lyrics are ©2009, Richard Laurence Baron.

**Of the hundreds of related bumper stickers on the Web, I picked the one above because I’m tickled by the two-sentiment combo. Don’t get excited – it’s just a blog illustration.

B Verse

B is for banner.
B is for bell.
B is for Baron
Whose writing is swell.

Doggerel, you know, is venial – a sin that I do practice from time to time. I didn’t really resist when I stumbled across a set of poems from furthest New Jersey. Marci McGowan displays 25 letter poems, for her First Grade Class website at HW Mountz Elementary School in Spring Lake, NJ – “right on the Atlantic Ocean!” Her B poem reads:

B is for box.

B is for bell.

B is for bucket

In my well.

Much better. And I’m being sentimental: My own favorite early-days school teacher was Frances McGowen. The school was E Rivers Elementary in Atlanta, still there. My McGowen was a long time ago…I’ll keep why I remember her name so well to myself. Despite the coincidence, thanks to both of you.

Bumper Sticker

Far outside the Loop
I’m driving around and around
Friendswood in the dark.
No moon, no marks.

Every street and circle
Looks the same,
An endless residential Hell on earth.

A number on a house
Can just be made out: 667.
No, it’s just the neighbor of the Beast.

Copyright © 2003, Richard Laurence Baron.

…To China

Flying to China, traveling
“Via regions closer to the North Pole,”
You can save three hours.

Dashing through the gemstone sky,
You note, besides the ice,
Some tiny speedy dots in line ahead.

Seeing with a sharper eye than ours,
You will discern the shapes of that odd chain,
The antlers of the reindeer in their harness.

Bringing up the rear, the black stuffed sleigh
And tiny, red-robed figure – infinitesimal:
The sacred Santa weighs the naughty and the nice.

Flying to China, if you’re good,
You’ll see this sight just once in life.
Or roving (very lucky) at the right time of year.

“Flying to China” was created for and first read aloud at John and Susan Reeves’s Christmas Party. Thanks to everyone for giving me a chance to read this – and to Susan, who suggested a poem in the first place. Merry/Happy. Copyright © 2008 Richard Laurence Baron. All rights reserved. Photo by Orin Zebest, San Francisco, CA.

Tree Assignment

This is a test of the Emergency Poetry Writing System.
Your assignment is “Tree,”
The thing you never hope to see
Something more beautiful than.

You plain don’t see a tree the way you see a cloud.
You’re never on your back beneath one
Thinking of the leaves’ mast: There’s a rabbit.
There’s a running man.

You do hear it warning, though, on windy days.
Shaking its head to slip the blow, it hopes.
What can it do but stand tall, take it
As only a big tree can.

If this had been an actual emergency, your assignment would be “God.”

Copyright © 2003, Richard Laurence Baron. Photo courtesy of University of California at Santa Cruz, with thanks.

Found Objects

The sun shines bright on my old Quincannon home, and gives the lie to yesterday's post. With the sunshine comes discovery: the poems I had hidden so carefully. What once was lost and now is found...here's one, for today.

Astronomers Find A New Planet
Eight Thousand Light-Years from Earth

Thirty times farther away in space than any known planet,
Way outside our neighborhood,
Not around the block, the other side of the city,
The other side of the world, the other side of the Sun.

We can’t drop by. But if we could, we’d say Hello.
We’re the Browns from down the street.
You know? The other spiral arm?
We thought we’d never find the place.

We’ll talk about the weather. Boy, it cloudy.
Liquid metal cloudy, raining iron.
And living in a sauna or a double-boiler,
Shirts and dresses stick right to you.

With your twenty-nine-hour year, bet you miss the change of seasons.
The visit went so fast. Look at the time.
The trip out here took forever.
The kids will sleep on the way back.

Copyright © 2004 Richard Laurence Baron