MYSELF I’M SAYING

FINE

I swear to God I’d like to be

Holy, good, and wise—

Instead of a lost and lonely soul,

Court jester in disguise,

Juggling truth and wasting time,

Truly, Lord, my greatest crime,

Never holy, never good,

And certainly not wise,

Though I try to be what I should be,

A beggar in disguise.

(In Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache mysteries, the poet, Ruth Zardo, one of a number of recurring characters, has a collection of poetry called “I’m FINE,” where FINE stands for “Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, Egotistical.” In other words, the poetry deals with the normal human condition. Penny’s novels are well worth reading—delightful, entertaining, insightful.

Old Age

My flesh is bruised and battered,

Torn beyond repair.

Old age has got my number,

Along with all my hair.

Schuster

Schuster the Booster

Knows where it’s at!

Says grammar be damned,

And Dusty, the cat!

Schuster the Booster

Knows where it is,

A sock or a shoe,

Hers become his!

Wishes

I’d like to be a submarine,

Sinking in the sea,

Beneath the polar ice flows,

Where whales only can be.

Down there in the inky depths

I’d sport with creatures free,

In waters cold and innocent

Of land-locked tyranny.

The Fribble

I never met a Fribble

Who could swear with any ease,

Or wear upon his honied head

A hat made out of bees.

I never met a Fribble—

I’m telling you the truth—

Who could lie with alligators

And still not look uncouth!

Myself I’m Saying with a fresh haircut, after seeing a Fribble in his second best chair; good night

Myself I’m Saying with a fresh haircut, after seeing a Fribble in his second best chair; good night