Yesterday I saw a brief news story on a poetry recitation contest in which high school students chose from about 600 English poems to recite for a cash prize. Besides feeling immediately inadequate for my very poor knowledge of poetry in general, I remembered happily yet another thing my high school English teacher did so very well--poetry. We had poetry recitation contests for my first three years in high school. Junior year I recited Oliver Cromwell by Monty Python, the beginning of which I still remember: "The most interesting thing about King Charles the first is that he was five-foot-6 inches tall at the start of his reign, and only 4 foot 8 inches at the end of it...because of.....!! Oliver Cromwell Lord Protector of England!!" Of course, the best part about this poem is that it is actually a song set to Chopin's Heroic Polonaise, which is by far one of his best pieces as far as I'm concerned. I should find a link to it...
ahhhh!!!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJ1yPz14LrU
Watch this!!!!!!!!!
One of my favorite things about poetry and writing in general is that one can say or explain with such artistry and grace the most mundane things. The most fun of these, of course, are delicate little insults that may even go unnoticed: "Darling, your fashion sense astonishes me, always so dernier cri! Even your morals match your attire, always so fresh and new!!"
Did she just call me shallow?
The writer/poet may leave his human subjects positively adust from just a push of the pause button in a world that has been spinning continuously for quite some time now. It's not fun writing to be mean as an end in itself. It is fun, however, when the aim is farce, to make fun of ourselves and each other and the things we believe and take for granted, thing we have stopped thinking about. But is this really being mean? or just tough love?
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