From an email my daughter sent me.
The following is from the Washington Post Style Invitational contest that asked readers to submit something written in the style of a famous person. The winning entry was The Hokey Pokey (as written by W. Shakespeare)
O proud left foot, that ventures quick within.
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.
Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from Heavens yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.
The Hoke, the poke-- banish now thy doubt
Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.
-- by William Shakespeare
music and poesy: October 2003 Archives
Phil Ochs Lyric Index is a site I found while looking for the music to Phil Och's rendition of the Noyes poem, The Highwayman.
That was triggered by a post of Steven Riddle's.
There is a poem about April being the cruelest month. I would disagree. I think October is the cruelest month. I find it especially hard now that I live in New England rather than California. I know that winter is coming, and with it, depression. The beauty of the leaves turning seems a mockery. The occasional warmth of the Indian Summer is taunting me, as I know that frost is also here, and snow will be falling soon. It is time to prune my roses, and I dread that as well, sending them into a near death from which I am not sure they or I will return.
I have fought SAD for most of my life, even in Southern California. I know that I will do better if I eat my fish on Fridays, get out in what sun I can find and get some exercise. I have my full spectrum light bulbs all over the house and also in my office. I know that I will get through this, and Advent becomes Christmas as Lent becomes Easter. Still, I approach this season as I approach working out my salvation - with fear and trembling.
