Bad Cold by Shel Silverstein

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  This cold is too much for my shortsleeve. Go get me a Kleenex--and fast. I sniffle and wheeze And I'm ready to sneeze And I don't know how long I can last.... Atchoo--it's to wet for a kleenex, So bring me handkerchief, quick. It's--atchoo--no joke, Now the handkerchief's soaked. Hey, a dish towel just might do the trick. Atchoo--it's too much for bath towel. There never has been such a cold. I'll be better off With that big tablecloth, No--bring me the flag off the pole. Atchoo--bring the clothes from the closet, Atchaa--get the sheets from the bed, The drapes off the window, The rugs off the floor To soak up this cold in my head. Atchoo-- hurry down to the circus And ask if they'll lend you the tent. You say they said yes? Here it comes--Lord be blessed-- Here it is--Ah-kachoooo--there it went.

To: my NaNoWriMo friends

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“Blessed are the legend-makers with their rhyme
Of things not found within recorded time . . .
They have seen Death and ultimate defeat,
And yet they would not in despair retreat,
But oft to victory have turned the lyre
And kindled hearts with legendary fire,
Illuminating New and dark Hath-been
With light of suns as yet by no man seen.”

--By J.R.R. Tolkien, ‘Mythopoeia,” in “Tree and Leaf” (London: Unwin Hyman, 2nd ed. 1988)
Happy Writing this month!

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