Category Archive: PETER’S WRITING
Rembrandt
(15 July 1606 / 7 – 4 October 1669) A man from Leiden sallied forth, Though plain of face, he ventured north; From callow youth to grand old age He shows himself at every stage, An autobiography in paints Along with sundry sinners and saints. [His light and shade: His stock in trade: Full in control Of workings of the soul – And mysterious light: Enigmatic sight: All of human thought In his canvas caught.] After long life, after his last breath, He was a pauper at the death, Forgotten then his splendid skill And the phosphorescent thrill Viewing the…
Continue Reading →What
(with apologies to Rudyard Kipling) What can you keep when everyone around you Is hysterical and blaming all on you, “What the dickens,” is the way they sound you Out, and stipulate the new taboo; What the devil is the endless queuing, The waiting by the door we see, surprised, What went down when everyone was booing, When emerged one, no longer disguised: — What you dream you are is often vaster; Than the actual world…
Continue Reading →Parody # 10: Australia, 2021
(with apologies to William Wordsworth) Tony Abbott! thou shouldst be with us at this hour: Australia hath need of thee: she is a swamp Of stagnant waters; dust, and rising damp, Our wealth for toil and sea-girt bower Have lost strength, their inner steel doth cower – We now are selfish, addled, multi-gendered dopes: Please raise us up, do restore our hopes; Let us not scare easily with each passing shower. Thy words could quite embarrass, yet ring clear; But never weasel words, never insincere …
Continue Reading →Parody # 9: The Raving
(with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe) Once upon a morning early, while I tweeted, smug and surly, Over many a terse, ridiculous thread certain to bore, While I CAPS-LOCKED, mouth akimbo Suddenly, amid my limbo Of a spat with an on-line bimbo, a weary conversational chore There appeared a meme, a sign insistent, Daring me to sign ‘Deplore’ – ‘Tis some silly meme’ I muttered, ‘Only this and nothing more.’ Ah, distinctly I recall, it was not the antipodean fall That threw its shadows on my wall and blew away my online post, Rather, it…
Continue Reading →Parody # 8: A Vision in a Nightmare
(with apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge) At Idokopas did Vladimir A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where a block of seventy-four hectares span And a special rock-carved tunnel ran Down to the east Black Sea. So many miles of fertile ground With walls and turrets girdled round: And there were gardens thick with stern armed guards, And a port, vineyard, a hockey rink, and church of old; Here too was forest, a casino replete with wheels, chips, cards And toilet brushes, $850 each, all blocked in gold. But oh! that deep troubling abyss which erupted Down slopes amid protected air and…
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