Perhaps I was inspired by reading A.A. Milne's Now We Are Six to my son last night. But I awoke this morning, thinking about Ernest Hemingway. And in the manner of Pooh -- "because poetry and hums aren't things which you get, but they're things which get you" -- I offer this ditty that popped out of my head.
The matador paused, quite pleased and quite proud,
His cape billowing as he surveyed the crowd.
The bull, seeing red, turned and stamped the ground,
His horns charging, as the bullfighter went down.
At the paper, we banned all poetry from the Eh? column. Can you tell why?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No, I don't see why. People love poetry. Hello? Dear Abby?
ReplyDeleteYour poem would be good for 8-year-old boys. With illustrations.