标签: poem

I love reading funny and/or thought-provoking quotes in the signature sections of emails that come my way. In fact, I have four quotes as part of my own email sig as follows:   “Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.” -- G. K. Chesterton "The mome rath isn't born that could outgrabe me!" -- Nicol Williamson "Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy when toasted and taste good with ketchup." -- Anonymous "It's sometimes difficult to determine if quotes found on the internet are genuine or not." -- Abraham Lincoln.   It's the first quote that's of interest to us here. Until I ran across this quote, it hadn’t really struck me that consumables like cheese tend to "fly under the radar" when it comes to things like poetry, presumably because poets are too busy trying to count the ways in which they love me.   As an aside, this reminds me of a classic joke by the British comedian and magician Tommy Cooper as follows:   I went into a French restaurant and asked the waiter, "Have you got frog's legs?" He said, "Yes", so I said, "Well hop into the kitchen and get me a cheese sandwich."   Ah, you can't beat the old jokes, can you? But we digress. I just received an email from my chum, publicity and marketing guru Alexandra Sorton, who said "I have the solution to your lack of cheese-related poetry!"   Alex then proceeded to point me at this website that provides links to cheese blogs, cheese education, cheese events, cheese organizations, cheese podcasts, and ... yes, you guessed it ... cheese poetry.   But wait, there's more, because if you visit the AllPoetry.com website, you can find poems covering just about any topic you can think of, including fermented dairy products .   The thing about the Internet is that there's so much of it. I then ran across the Cheese.com website, where we discover that -- in addition to cows, sheep, and goats -- cheese can also be made out of the milk from other mammals, including buffalo, reindeer, camels, and yaks.   In turn, this reminds me of the laugh-out-loud dogs' milk episode from one of my all-time favorite science fiction comedy programs, Red Dwarf .     It turns out that they are running short of supplies, and that they are now reduced to drinking dogs' milk. The ship's computer explains the many advantages of dogs' milk, ending with the fact that it lasts longer than any other type of milk.   Our hero, Dave Lister, asks why this should be. I only hope you aren’t drinking a glass of milk yourself when you hear the answer, otherwise you might find it shooting out of your nose.

I don't care what my dear old mom thinks, I honestly don’t think I have attention deficit disorder (ADD), although... Ooh, shiny!   I'm sorry. Where were we? Oh yes, I remember. I'm quite happy with my own company, and on those rare occasions when I'm trapped somewhere without anything to do for an hour or two ("You wait here Max while I go and look at the makeup; I'll only be a minute"), I can always enter a Zen-like meditative state and pay a visit to Max's World (where the colors are brighter, the butterflies are bigger, the birds sing sweeter, and the beer is plentiful and cold).   But, "still and all," as they say; if at all possible, given a choice, at the end of the day, when all's said and done, I prefer to be occupied at something or other. Oftentimes I end up doing a couple of things at the same time. If I'm watching television, for example, I'll invariably have a book on my knee to peruse and ponder during the adverts. Similarly, when I arrive at my office in the morning and I'm spending 10 minutes on the Jiggly Exercise Machine, I'll also be sipping a cup of coffee and reading a book at the same time.   Thus it is that, whilst I'm driving back and forth to work, in addition to listening to the NPR (National Public Radio), I also while away the time memorizing poetry. (If you see me at ESC, ask me to regale you with a monologue that tells the dread tale of Albert and the Hot Vindaloo .)   I had little interest in poetry when I was younger. I don’t recall us ever reading or memorizing poetry at high school. (Of course, I also don’t recall much of the 1970s and 1980s, LOL.) As I grow older, however, I'm finding that I do enjoy the occasional piece, such as To a Poet a Thousand Years Hence or The Emperor of Ice-Cream .   The one I'm currently working on (I try to add a line or two a day) is The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. I've almost got the first two stanzas down pat -- I'm hoping to memorize the last two lines of the second stanza on the way home this evening.   I'm sure you know this poem. You probably learned it as school. I find it hauntingly thought-provoking. In addition to memorizing each poem, I also spending a lot of time pondering its meaning and the author's choice of words. Take the first stanza of The Road Not Taken for example:   Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;     I tell you, I've been cogitating and ruminating over this for hours (I don’t want to read the official interpretations and discussions until I've wrung this little rascal dry for myself). Take the word "road" for example. I don’t think of roads in a wood -- I think of paths . Originally I really thought the poem should have been called The Path Not Taken and the first line should read "Two paths diverged..." But then I started to think that "road" has more gravitas when we come to the overall context of the poem. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on this.   And how about the third line: "And be one traveler..." What does this mean exactly? I'm guessing Robert is trying to say that he wishes he could travel down both roads (paths) at the same time. I personally think this bit is a tad awkward, although I can’t think of anything better off the top of my head.   The one word that is really giving me trouble is "yellow" in the first line. I can understand the author not wanting to say "summer wood" or "autumn wood" because that would establish a temporal reference point he may not have desired. Similarly, I can understand how other descriptive words like "tangled" or "dense" or "grizzled" or "majestic" or "verdant" might cause one to focus on this point, thereby detracting from the spirit of the poem as a whole.   But "yellow"? What does this mean? Are all the leaves yellow? If so, we're either back to autumn again or we have a very poorly wood on our hands. On the other hand, try as I might, I can’t think of a better word. I keep on coming up with suggestions and then explaining to myself why they don’t work. Can you offer any suggestions?   If we can’t come up with a better word than "yellow," then we'll be forced to admit that Robert may have gotten it right. You know, if he had worked a little harder at it, he might have had a career as a professional poet (LOL).