[Simon Hunt]

Kidney Disease (Dickinsonesque)

I shuffle now. The crisis past–
to savor emptiness,
then gorge myself on endless fast,
find more concealed in less–

When ease no longer radiates
and light no longer shines–
I’ll eat the final withered grapes
and call them finest wines.


(I hope I'm within the protocols of the D&A Board. I've been reading the discussion of Emily D. under Paula's recent poem on met and thought I would post here this little effort at homage. Has anybody else given it a try?)

[RCL]

Simon,

I've tried it all too often! Sorry to hear about your kidneys. Mine were killed and revived in a recent health event.

I have six or seven efforts under Post Your Parody Poems, this the latest:

Tree Letters to the World

These are our letters to the world
On paper made from Trees -
Essential truths that must be told -
But far too few can see

The messages we now deliver -
From Groves that all should see -
For love of Life, as we decline,
Our messages are pleas

After Emily Dickinson (Franklin #519; Johnson 441)

From Tiny Seeds Literary Journal

[Gail White]

Here is one from years ago:

Because I could not stop for Lunch,
It kindly stopped for me.
The lunch tray held a lemon sponge
And watercress and tea.

I heard a fly buzz - in the Slaw -
Immortal for an hour.
The tea was hot - a small Brazil -
Although the cream was sour.

Since then 'tis centuries, yet each
Seems shorter than the day
I first surmised the weekend was
Five working days away.