[lit-ideas] Re: Sunday Poem
- From: David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Sun, 05 Jun 2005 13:28:19 -0700
Meaningless Chat.
While I have you on the phone,
now *there's* a line if ever I heard one,
smart but casual,
as they used to say of frocks...
You know there was something else I thought before,
oh dear me my mind's lock's getting rusty...
a connection between a use of "was,"
and my foxgloves--
which are spreading like weeds.
Rubbish, some say, but I think they're lovely.
Well, as the bishop said about his flowers,
it just goes to show.
Did I tell you that my Eric is buying a duck punt gun?
Oh yes. Huge, it is. Three inch bore.
Better than a five foot eleven one, you say?
When it comes to punt guns and husbands, love,
size matters. It really does.
Reading?
Have you tried, "The Sunday Philosophy Club?"
No, not at all like his African ones.
The main lady edits a journal on what's right and whatnot...
aye, so her father sees these two men on the street and he says,
"There goes Scotland's best poet," he says,
"and a blatherer."
It's Scottish love. How they talk up there.
He thinks Hugh MacDiarmid moans too much.
Among Presbyterians,
that's as bad as stuffing your garden with gold.
No, I don't suppose it *would* make any difference to foxgloves,
either now or whenever the Bible tale was.
Well before I get too loose,
I best let you be getting.
See you Tuesday... at the minster's thing.
That's it, Tuesday.
The one after Monday.
Find a calendar you daft girl,
and you'll not go far wrong.
David Ritchie
Portland, Oregon
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