Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Music Dementia

I visited my grandma.
I thought it would be fun
But she messed with my cerebrum
And my life has come undone.

It started out so innocent.
She thought it most sublime
To share with me the music
She enjoyed when in her prime.

To me it sounded sappy
But she started in to dance
To the music of her young days
Full of dubious romance.

Now other things she’s shown me
I’ve appreciated in the main,
But this is just disaster.
Lawrence Welk is on my brain!

The next day, sure as shootin’
I hummed some dumb refrain,
And my pals all choked with laughter.
Lawrence Welk was on my brain.

The music never goes away.
Revolving round I find
There’s no way to get rid of
Lawrence Welk tunes on your mind.

Well the next week I went back
And I tell you, sure as shootin’
Lawrence Welk was driven out!
Replaced by ole’ Wayne Newton…

©2008 Lisa Lynch

Midnight Raiders

The Ballad of the Midnight Raiders

It was late in the summer of seventy-eight.
A party was raging and it was getting kinda late.
The music was rockin’, the bass was loud and deep,
And no one ‘round that courtyard was getting any sleep.
It was humid, and hot, and windows were left open
‘Cause with no A.C. it was the only way of coping.
“Brother Jack,” says “Brother Gerry, “there’s no consideration,
The party ‘cross the courtyard gives me determination.
If we want some rest tonight the orgy has to stop,
So let us do some raiding. That cookie’s going to drop.”

Way down.
Watch out, boys!
That cookie’s going down.

They slipped out of their bunk beds and slid into their shoes.
They snuck across the courtyard—it was time to pay the dues.
Through the window of the party they could see the drunkards crazy.
They were thrashing, they were boozing, and their judgment was all hazy.
“This won’t be hard,” said Gerry. “They’ll never know what hit ‘em.
They’re smashed beyond all knowing. C’mon, Jack. Let’s git ‘em.”
Jack loosened light bulbs in the hallway so it was black as pitch,
‘Cause if they were caught, by golly, it would really be a bitch.
Meanwhile Gerry found the fuse box and the switch for ‘partment B.
“Like taking candy from a baby,” murmured Gerry with some glee.

Way down.
Watch out, boys!
That cookie’s going down.

Now half the plan was making peace and calling it a day.
The other half was crucial: it was keeping it that way.
“Just one more step,” says Gerry, “to execute the plan.
We must batten down the hatches, and do it with elan.
We have no lock to keep them from the hallway to the fuse,
So we must make them think it’s locked. We must come up with a ruse.”
Jack took some twigs off of the ground and in the crack he crammed
So that the door appeared as locked, and yet was only jammed.
“Now pull the plug,” said Gerry, “and then we will get even.
There’s an exit from the fuse room, a real good way of leavin’.

Way down.
Watch out, boys!
That cookie’s going down.

The plug was pulled, my hearties, and the silence, it was golden.
Other tenants on the courtyard to the raiders were beholden.
Jack and Gerry crossed the courtyard in the deepest black of cover
But a moment they did pause. At the party window they did hover.
The cursing it was mighty fierce, but soon it settled down,
And peace once more began to rule that side of Ypsi town.
Next time you’re at a party and the hour is getting later,
Remember all your neighbors, friends: they might be midnight raiders.
They’ll plot ‘gainst you and all is lost. Your noise they’ll come to end it,
For silence calls for justice, and the raiders will defend it.

Way down.
Watch out, boys!
The cookie was shut down.

©2008 Lisa Lynch

You Have to Write 'Em Before You Can Teach 'Em

I was asked to teach a lesson on ... sonnets! So I thought I should try it myself before asking my students to do it. The iambic pentameter rule is just about impossible, but I got the syllables per line and rhyming pattern to work. So here are my first three attempts.

Sonnet 1
Light eternal within our souls desire:
A deep, longing hunger unsatisfied.
Wandering ever, we seek a bonfire
To warm the lonely emptiness denied.
Too often pallid replacements parade
As luminous imposters of support,
And our withered, accepting spirits fade
While lasting visions of heaven abort.
But happy the thirst-stricken, striving one
Whose appetite only the real food craves
Till stumbling and weary and nearly done
She finds the host bread and blood wine that saves.
Poured down to us from eternal ladle,
Jesus slakes thirst from his lowly cradle.

Sonnet 2
Rapid-fire sound bites blast embattled brains
Till our defenseless resistance falters
And we surrender all that yet remains
At the feet of advertising altars.
Shell out big bucks for material goods
To embiggen status and sex appeal!
Snared, you will never get out of the woods
Of shallow values based on how you feel.
But silence offers a golden retreat
To the discerning taste of odd thinkers
Who deafen ears to the ad man’s drum beat.
Of solitude’s wisdom they’re deep drinkers.
A fool listens not, neither he takes heed,
But the wise sow in silence better seed.

Sonnet 3
Evil advances covered by dark night,
When shadows hide ominous, lurking dread
Of quick death or massive towering might
Falling mercilessly upon our head.
We stumble and cry out in fear and shame
Hoping a hero will espy our plight,
Will know that destiny calls him to fame,
Come to our rescue and put up a fight.
Battling brutally all over the town,
The crowds gasp at his strength and endurance,
While buildings get smashed and are tumbled down,
And agents groan at cost of insurance.
Fear not, you who cower without hope’s light
For you’ll be delivered by this Dark Knight.