This week I am simply forwarding two recent messages from Julia Legas to
provide our reading. The first item is a joke that, given our own reading
in the past year, we should all get! The second is an original piece
written by a friend/acquaintance of hers who is looking for some critical
feedback. It is not every high school student who follows the lyric muse,
so I think it’d be great if we could collectivel offer him some support.
Have a great week,
Prime Minister Tony Blair is visiting an Edinburgh hospital. He enters a
ward full of patients with no obvious sign of injury or illness. He
greets the first patient and the patient replies:
"Fair fa your honest sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin race,
Aboon them a you take your place,
Painch, tripe or thairm,
As langs my airm."
Tony is confused, so he just grins and moves on to the next patient and
greets him. The patient responds:
"Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it,
But we hae meat and we can eat,
So let the Lord be thankit."
Even more confused, but trying not to show it, Tony moves on to the next
patient, who immediately begins to chant:
"We sleekit, cowerin, timrous beasty,
Thou needna start awa sae hastie,
Wi bickering brattle."
Now alarmed, Tony turns to the accompanying doctor and asks "What kind
of facility is this? Is it a mental ward?"
"No", replies the doctor. "This is the serious Burns unit".
If I’m going to guest edit MV, how about throwing in a poem I got from a high
school senior who works the front desk at the Y with me. He sent it to me for
comments, told me it didn’t have a title, and I said I would see if we could
send it around for MV some time. It’s a pretty basic little poem until you
find out that he wrote it about his high school- Boston Latin. I said we
should have a title contest because that bit o’ info about high school really
picks the poem up out of the realm of usual adolescent verse.
I’ll copy it in and maybe you can find a place for it in the next few months.
I had a good time
being out there with you
and being liked
you were an eye-catcher
and we looked good together
so I know you’ll talk about me
if I become famous one day
how you were with me and I was yours
I shouldn’t complain, if I didn’t know better
but I wish you had gone easier
on the perfume:
you smelled like a French whore
and it rubbed off on me.
He added this as an aside:
"the poem is actually about my school and how I feel about leaving."