Rambling Rhodes

The Closest I'll Ever Get To Writing Alongside Dave Barry

Now this is just too damned fun! Via Michele at A Small Victory, I was steered toward a little bit of tomfoolery being conducted by Dave Barry. What sort of tomfoolery, you ask? Well, how about this:

MEANWHILE, however, this blog has a little project to amuse anybody who is interested, involving a wonderful site called www.poetry.com, which was brought to this blog's attention by alert reader Laura Stark. Aspiring poets can go there and submit poems in the poetry contest, and maybe even -- incredibly -- have their poems selected for inclusion in heirloom-quality-bound volumes that are -- What are the odds of this? -- for sale!

So anyway, this blog was just thinking how interesting it would be if a whole bunch of people submitted poems that contained a certain key poetic phrase. To see how it might work, this blog submitted a poem under the pen name of "Freemont A. Harkins," entitled: "A Sad Day." Here's how it goes:

A Sad Day

i am sad, so very sad
the tears run down my nose
it was a happy day until
the dog ate mother's toes

You can see this poem at www.poetry.com, using the search engine to search for "Freemont Harkins." Wouldn't it be fun if a lot of people submitted poems using a Pen Name that began with "Freemont" and incorporating the phrase, "the dog ate mother's toes"? Then we all could search for poems written under the first name of "Freemont" -- currently, this blog is the only one -- and see how creative everybody was!

I'll probably be submitting poems as the day progresses, because I'm a time-wasting nutball like that. Here's my submission list:

Dog Day Afternoon
by Freemont Freemonton Freemontery

All dogs, they say, will have their day
They'll get their day in court
But Rex, I think, will have to pay
And his life may be cut short

He looks at me with mournful eyes
And I know he's deeply sorry
His tail is tucked between his thighs
Like an arm of calimari

I can't forgive Rex for what he's done
And this, I think, Rex knows
Though I'm sure he thought it was quite fun
When the dog ate my mother's toes.

Book Critique
by Freemont Erting Magoo

I recall with youthful glory
The book "Where The Red Fern Grows"
But I think it would improve the story
If a dog ate mother's toes.

Foul Play Is Afoot
by Freemont Xavier Mongrove

An autopsy today revealed something that almost no one knows
Apparently, the coroner says, the dog ate mother's toes.

Loss of blood was the cause of death, from gaping wounds on mother's feet.
All because our beloved spaniel thought her toes were doggy treats.

All ten digits were gnawed away, and her corns were gone as well
There really isn't much more to say. What more is there to tell?

Why, oh why, did our dog do this thing? Why did mother have to die?
We'll have to put our dog down now because, well, you know, eye for an eye.

As our dog is laid to rest, we'll pet him, and we'll weep,
To soften his journey into that eternal doggy sleep.

And perhaps he'll meet our mother there, and her feet will be intact.
There will be no signs whatsoever that her toes had been attacked.

Mother and dog will dance and play through Heaven's golden gates
And the dog will eat only the best Purina on golden doggy plates.

>From this happy dream I just awoke, and then my blood just froze
Because I think it's truly chilling that the dog ate mother's toes.

Dog. Interrupted.
by Freemont Galveston Montreax

I came across a ghastly scene
Now emblazoned in my mind
A scene so nasty and so mean
There is nothing of its kind.

Bo, my dog, my faithful friend
A companion through the years
Went way way off the deeper end
Went crazy between his floppy ears

In the kitchen the deed was done
This tale I tremble to relate
My mother's toes, they numbered none
I had arrived too late.

The attack was swift, because Bo is quick
He moves as fast as lightning goes
And though it may make readers sick
The dog had eaten mother's toes.

I startled Bo, as he dined,
gnashing away at toes four and five
He growled at me, but ran away
Old Bo had lost his mind.

Mother limps now, with a cane
And I never found old Bo.
He's out there, somewhere; a dog insane
With a taste for human toe.

Posted by Ryan at July 15, 2003 11:56 AM