Here, a little housewife, I
Sit upon my stool and sigh;
It’s dark, midnight, I’m feeling blue;
The cat is looking maudlin too.
I think of what I want to say –
It comes, it goes, it will not stay;
The Muse has left the building, gone;
Abandoned me; “Support withdrawn.”
What’s this? A voice! “Cheer up!” it cries,
“Don’t fool around with wherefores, whys!”
“Trouble?* Did you speak?” I query
(She never speaks unless I’m beery)
Trouble looks at me, she blinks;
Inscrutable – she’s as the Sphinx.
“Don’t mess about” I say, still shaken.
I try to keep my knees from quakin’.
Then, I think, that voice seemed friendly!
It wishes well; sounds kind. Suddenly,
It comes again: “Sam do not fear me!
I’m Voice-O’er Man come from the telly.
“I can’t be seen, I’m disembodied;
My voice is booming, epic, storied;
But nights, to keep me off the rum,
I moonlight as a fairy Godmum
“You say you’re feeling blue tonight?
Let me help you ease your plight.
You’ve just two wishes – spend them well –
The Market’s hurting us as well;
To make ends meet, we’ve cut right back;
Tooth Fairy’s turning tricks and crack!
We’ve only got 2 spells per litre,
Now hurry up, you’re on the meter!”
I thought, I thunked, I hemmed, I hawed,
Full of wonder, overawed.
Moonbeams puddled round the apples,
Silver light in pools and dapples.
“I have it!” whispered I discreetly
“My mind’s made up! I’m sure, completely!
What I want is Solomon’s knowledge
And ken that they don’t teach in college.”
“I’m sorry” said the voice, “You see
We’ve had a rush on Sol, ‘cos he
Had wisdom we all want to know
In these uncertain times: stock’s low.
In Wisdom all that’s left to offer you
‘Sthe Dubious Doublethink Of W;
Not asked for much, we’ve got a heap
Of his thoughts, AND those of the Veep
“Oh dear!” I said, “I must refuse
For I already have the blues.
Wading throught that fog of cant
Could render me MORE ignorant.”
“One more wish” said subbing Godmum
“Quick! I’m not here ad finitum!”
“I want to write of time,” I sighed
“Of fury, love and lives denied!”
“But” I whined, “The Muse is gone!
Alone I labour on t’wards dawn.
I wish…I wish…
I wish the words came swiftly, sweetly
My thoughts arriving meetly, neatly”
“It can’t be done, I’m sorry, Sam.
Errata’s gone, she’s on the lam.
What with poets’ importunings;
Editors debating prunings…
She’s buggered off; o’er-worked, she’s fled.
She left a note: “Piss off!” it said.
“I’m on my hols, leave me alone!
Don’t call ‘cos I’ve turned off my phone.
“Say I’ll come back when I’m ready
‘Til then, bash on, stay firm, keep steady.
All requests temp’rilly denied
(Especially tell that damn Sam, Child Bride!)”
“Oh,” said I, my hopes all rent,
“I guess she’s right. It’s my intent
To drop this folly, poetry;
It’s back to limericks for me!”
There once was a planet called Pluto
Most unjustly given the boot-o
The scientists (swine!)
Kicked him out of the nine
Poor Pluto’s now rendered caputo.
* Trouble = My cat.
For greater enjoyment of this pome, try not to notice it?s crap, and doesn?t scan and strains to