On occasion, when I really don’t know what else to do, I write poetry. Since I don’t feel much like collecting those little outbursts or submitting them somewhere, I thought I might share them with you.
This one is a complete nonsense one. Sorry ’bout that.
The Lost Word
My sincerest contempt goes out to
whoever put the ‘w’ in ‘who’
I wish to rage and scream and shout
at those who put the ‘b’ in ‘doubt’
My heart is heavy, weighed down low
when thinking of ‘gh’ in ‘dough’
The one who put the ‘n’ in column?
His hide would make the finest drum
Someone must have been just a little bored
to add a ‘w’ to sword
Burn shall the one in hell’s fiery heat
who gave the ‘p’ to the receipt
I judge it as the foulest crime
that with an ‘h’ you spell a rhyme
But why the anger, why the tears
at whoever had all those brilliant ideas?
I’ll tell you why, had they taken every letter
instead of spreading them out, had kept them together
a whole new word they could have had
one hard to rhyme, I’ll grant you that
but either way, those evil thieves
have robbed us of wbghnwph.