Naughty, naughty, Poison Ivy:
Touch my skin and make me hive-y.
Blotchy skin and splotchy face:
Itchy, itchy every place!
Maybe purchased from a grocer;
Should have brought a field guide:
Now I've got that stuff inside!
Thought I knew the out-of-doors---
Wandered over hills and moors---
Now I think I'll stay at home:
'Til tomorrow---then I'll roam.
---C. Marie Byars, 1986
2 comments:
nice poem...it's got a nice flow...
wonder what inspired you to write it...i especially liked the first few lines..."naughty,naughty,poison ivy...".got a nice ring...
u talked about walt whitman the last time you commented on my blog...i've read a couple of his works and i find them quite thought-provoking....
i have two new posts and i would really like you to check them out.
please do read my very first blog-post...it's called introspection and you'd find it if you searg for it in the search toolbar.
would love to read more of your posts!
Thanks for coming over. I've been a bit busy but will visit you soon. This ditty was just prompted by a bit of silliness---I grew up in a place which has no poison ivy & was temporarily living in a place which did. Plus a cousin of mine had had a bad run-in with it in childhood. So I wondered what it would be like...And a "nursery rhyme" sort of meter stuck in my head. It doesn't perfectly fit that pattern with exact syllables, but the rise & fall of accents sort of does.
Post a Comment