Monday, December 27, 2010

Christmas Poetry, Oh Noetry!

Just pretend you are Marty McFly and you have traveled back in time in your DeLorean, way way way back to the distant date of December 25th, 2010. Things may seem strange and outdated (remember cassette tapes!? sheesh!), but just avoid your creepy incestuous mother and you will be fine.

Do that and this post will make sense.

Why hullo there! Merry Christmas to you! Because it is Christmas today. It is not two days after Christmas. So there!

Here is a poem for you. A poem for Christmas day. Even though only the last two lines justify it as such.

I Did This to My Vocabulary

The moon is my alibi. My tenders throw hissy fits.
My scalp’s at the foot of the precipice.
My lume is spento, there’s a creep in my cellar.
You can stand under my umbrella, Ella.

Who put pubic hair on my headphones?
Who put the ram in Ramallah?
I’m just sitting here spinning my spinning wheels—
where are the snow tires of tomorrow?

The llama is burning! My heart is an ovary!
Let’s chase dawn’s tail across state lines,
sing “Crimson and Clover” over and overy,
till wonders are taken for road signs.

My fish, fast and loose, shoot fish in a kettle.
The boys like the girls who like heavy metal.
On Sabbath, on Slayer, on Maiden and Venom,
on Motörhead, Leppard, and Zeppelin, and Mayhem . . .

By Michael Robbins, Link

And here is an Emily Bronte poem that is Christmas-y (because I say so).


There should be no despair for you
While nightly stars are burning;
While evening pours its silent dew,
And sunshine gilds the morning.
There should be no despair--though tears
May flow down like a river:
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart for ever?

They weep, you weep, it must be so;
Winds sigh as you are sighing,
And winter sheds its grief in snow
Where Autumn's leaves are lying:

Yet, these revive, and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted:
Then, journey on, if not elate,
Still, NEVER broken-hearted!

Bolded is what I submitted for BronteBlog's Christmas Contest, wherein you submit a Christmas-y Bronte quote to win wonderful goodies. The contest ends on December 26th, so you better hurry! (Because today is December 25th! Not the 27th! You can still participate*, perhaps!)

So Happy Festivus to you and yours, and may your stockings be filled with plenty of fruitcake and re-giftables (seriously, who gives a copy of Paul Blart: Mall Cop on DVD as a Christmas gift? I have a feeling I was at least the 4th person in line to get it. Anyway. Merry Xmas grandma! Hope you enjoy!**)

* No. No, you can't.
** No. No, she won't.

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