The news of late has been far too disturbing for me to wax on about. The Spanish people caving in to fear, and thus affirming the effectiveness of the "terror" in terrorism, and Kerry's almost ludicrous attempts at self-destruction (definately the most upbeat bit of news of late!)...but instead of that, I composed a poem, to remind me of those days years ago in Shakespeare classes when I thought I had "the Bard" all figured out...what a hack, but what a flowery-worded hack!
To My Dear Wapcaplet
By General Arthur Sir Tennydale Winsley-Bucklethorpe, MBA, DDS, MBE, Mrs.
Woe to the castigated Visigoth ensconced in such revelry,
Besmirch't in curried plots by and by, my Wapcaplet!
What pithy trotter's guide could so rend thy father's womb?
What denizens of paltry juxtaposition bear this forthright proxy?
Canst now, my noble Wapcaplet, canst now thy preeding nostril splay!
Dawn to dusk thy chancéd reams convult in splendid array.
Is there naught but candied clams to fright the nightly chill?
Nay, my pretty prawn, such trifles burst the lamplight through the swill.
Behold the regal Sodplant reaping realms of riches ravished by cruel winter,
Regard the juggéd Monkeyfish eviscerated in hardened broach-locket,
Yet never shall the Sun set on a cold sardine can while the red river flows
And this of all things, my dearest Wapcaplet, only the wise man knows.