January 27th, 2007

Whale fluke

"He chortled in his joy..."

Ahem...

*snaps fingers*

*bobs head*

*taps feet*

*(well, foot; Chris is not
that coordinated)*

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson; you'll remember more mellifluously
By the name Lewis Carroll, where he wrote pseudonymously
About nonsense and children and mad thoughts and backwardness
And believing six impossible things before breakfast
And his mind that concocted these ideas we know
Entered the world on this day, 175 years ago
So some madman on LJ declared commemoration
By going nuts for a day via journal transformation
And I joined this soiree in its second year existing
Taking things of which I think and subjecting them to twisting
(The "chortled in his joy" line fits oh so deeply well
To be the title for my opening poem (not quite a villanelle))
And the blast I had writing it made me want to do some more
-- You won't be surprised that wordplay is something I adore --
So how shall I commemorate all that? Er, well...
I choose this as a day where I shall speak in doggerel.
Whale fluke

Rabbit Hole Day: The Grocery List

I've got a little list...

Um, no.

*starts over*

The coupons are ready; a list written, as well.
I plan out my shopping so it's not all pell-mell.
Mornings to Freddy's: my frequent weekend run
When I allow myself a car trip, for shipping groceries (by the ton?)
So I didn't leave 'fore noon today, but that's OK by me;
You cannot always say that I am one to stymie.
It gave me time to list more stuff that will be nice to get;
When you see my purchasing, you'll be moved to say "Well-met!"
The coupon buys I'll make all have an asterisk;
That includes yogurt, dental floss, and maybe a compact disc.
It's a one-stop shopping kind of place, a longtime Northwest landmark
(And referred to in this Glen Phillips song, about a ruined world that's stark)
Now wrap this up I shall so do, and get myself in gear;
So from this online place of mine, I hereby disappear.
Whale fluke

"A New Sith, or Revenge of the Hope"

Whale fluke

Rabbit Hole Day: Digestion

The question of digestion
Brings vexation, don'tcha know:
How intestinal gestation
Breaks down food and makes you grow
With esophagal transportation (to the stomach and its fluids)
Of asparagus, pasta, flan, and possibly even suet --
And then -- wow! -- there's movement of caloric molecules
To here, and there, and everywhere: Yes! It's your body's fuel!
And thus fat layers, muscles, blood, your little toes, your crotch, your brain
All get portions here and servings there of teeny pieces of pearmain.
Amazing how it works, innit? (I apologize for what's incorrect;
I think this doggerel is scientifically suspect.)
Whale fluke

Rabbit Hole Day: Hot Hot Heat

Sweats, blankets, slippers and socks;
Space heater running, an emanating block
Of hot hot heat, making it seem like the clock
Is at noon (or thereabouts), on a spring day: the Equinox!
The warmth, it is coming, with the certainty of flocks
Of the birds (and baseball players, but nothing like a Roc)
Who return with warmer weather and, if they're athletes, don their Jocks
To start to play their games, and hope they're good, not laughing-stocks.
And before I try to end a line with "We're drowning in shamrocks"
I will close this latest entry, and dream of swimming in a loch.