from "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats" by T. S. Eliot

     The Naming of Cats

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
  It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
  Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, or George or Bill Bailey -
  All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
  Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter -
  But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
  A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
  Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
  Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum -
  Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
  And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover -
  But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
  The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
  Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
    His ineffable effable
    Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

"Bits of Plastic"

I've been reading this book called The World Without Us by Alan Weisman. Like the title says, it's about what the Earth would be like if humans vanished right now. Among the many things it mentions is a disturbing little fact: The plastic we toss into the ocean doesn't really break down, it just gets smaller. In fact, while being tossed about and mashed up by waves and wind, it gets small enough to be consumed by the tiny animals that most of the ocean's food chain is based on -- krill. Also, about 20% of the world's beaches is ground up plastic bits, thrown back onto the shore by the ocean we dumped it in.

I found this kind of disturbing. So I did what I usually do when confronted by a crisis. I wrote a poem.

Bits of Plastic

Bits of plastic in the sand
Left there by the hand of man
One fifth of the total weight
Is plastic on the beach to date
On every beach from shore to shore
And every day we're adding more

The plastic in the trash you toss
Won't decompose like wood or moss
It breaks up into little bits
And into little mouths it fits

Chorus
Bits of plastic in the sand
Left there by the hand of man
On every beach from shore to shore
And every day we're adding more

Zooplankton, shrimp and krill
Every mouth will plastic fill
The destiny in plastic's tale
Is in the belly of a whale

Chorus
Bits of plastic in the sand
Left there by the hand of man
On every beach from shore to shore
And every day we're adding more

Think "belly up" won't be your fate?
Just ask yourself what's on your plate!
Plastic ground up by the waves
Will be the stuff that fills our graves

Chorus
Bits of plastic in the sand
Left there by the hand of man
On every beach from shore to shore
And every day we're adding more

Yes, plastic in the ocean blue
Is coming home to me and you

Chorus
Bits of plastic in the sand
Left there by the hand of man
On every beach from shore to shore
And every day we're adding more
And every day we're adding more
And every day we're adding more!


It came out pretty well, I think. It's got a nice rhythm to it. Try reading it with a sort of calypso/reggae/Jimmy Buffett beat to it.

Electric Lighting

Is lightning enlightening?
Or can only lighting
enlighten?

Lightning will lighten,
as lightning's lighting lights,
but is this lightening
enlightening?

Even so, is it
the lightning that
enlightens or
just the lightning's
lightening that
enlightens?

Luminous luminaries of
voluminous illumination
will illuminate
what shocking shocks
this shocking shock
may shake.

Moldy Cheese

Admitting that you have a problem is the first step towards getting help. Well, I have a problem. I write poetry.

     "Hello, my name is Ben, and I write poetry."

     "Hi, Ben."

So what's the problem? It's not like I tie people to chairs and force them to listen to my poetry. Heck, I can count the number of public readings I've done on my thumbs.

The problem is that, often, my first instinct in any given situation is to write a poem about it.

Take last week for example. I'm in the break room at work, pouring myself a cup of coffee, when I notice that some one left a block of cheddar out of the fridge too long. Now it's got "friends". You know, green and gray fuzzy friends.

No one's name is on it. It's obviously no good. But did I toss it in the trash? No. I wrote a poem:

     Whose cheese is this? I think it's old
     For I have noticed growing mold
     And I have not yet grown so bold
     That I should toss it out

So what have I done? The cheese is still moldering on the counter, I've wasted at least 5 minutes of my life writing useless doggerel, and I've potentially alienated fans of Robert Frost.

Maybe there's hope for me yet. I mean, I did admit that I have this problem. And, more importantly, I went back and threw out the cheese.

From the New York Times (Arts/Art & Design); July 10, 2006
Renovations to a Study Room by Aalto Splits Harvard Faculty
By ROBIN POGREBIN

A renovation of a Harvard University poetry reading room designed by the Finnish architect Alvar Aalto has drawn heated objections from architects and preservationists.


I've included some "before and after" pictures for those of you who don't know what the uproar is about.

Here's the before:


And the after:


Nice, huh? Very spacious. And modern, too!

Dr. Dan Egan, Proctologist

A man, a plan, an agenda --
D.N. Egan, anal Panama

(Okay, this isn't the best palindrome I've ever written.)

Ten times, fast

Founding Fathers Floundering,
Plymouth Pilgrims Plight:
Greenwich Glens Glowering,
Now Nantucket Natives Night.

Indulgence vs. Empowerment

What do you become
when you get all
you want?

           Spoiled.

What do you become
when you get all
you need?

           Fulfilled.

By Nature Unaware

Divot in the rock
  basin filled with rain
Splashes there a child
  playing, unaware
Of a long-dead creature
  that left its print

    there

Floating Yankee

Massachusetts floods
Bad rains and panic ensues
New Orleans just laughs

Cutie Cooking Show

Thirty Minute Meals
Smiling, scurrying, cooking
Rachael Ray is cute