I love writing and can’t stop making poems. It is a family affliction I think and I would term it: “Rhyming Couplet Disorder.” I simply can’t stop thinking them, saying them and writing them.

I discovered recently that my great-great grandfather Thomas Hill Watts (an Alabama Governor and the first Attorney General of the Confederacy) had the gene. A sweet Auburn friend of mine, Annie Martin Waters found a note that he had done. Lo and behold, it was a poem! (written on June 29th, 1864)

HERE IS AN EXAMPLE OF ONE OF MINE:

THE WONDER OF IT ALL

My wife had wanted me to see,

The Columbus Live Poet Society.

She had some passes, someone had lent her

so off we were, to the River Center.

There were learned folks, from all around,

Including six “experts” from out of town.

There was not a whisper….nary….naught,

as the poets mused, in uffish thought.

“Our wonder hath wandered,” quoth a cryptic man,

A goateed Sage from Birmingham.

“After endless wonderment during misspent youth,

From wonder, we now remain aloof.”

His words rang true! Everything he said,

and set up fresh wondering, in my head.

In youth I’d spy a twinkling star,

And wonder aloud, “just what you are?”

Now with aches and gray hair flowing,

I wonder just, where I’m going.

I wonder too ‘bout the stars above,

I wonder who?, wrote the “Book of Love.”

I mourn the loss of Pepsodent,

And wonder where the yellow went.

Oh so much wondering in my head,

I’ve even wondered, ‘bout Wonder Bread.

And I guess it’d be, a social blunder,

Not to wonder, on Stevie Wonder

I listened to their poems profound,

Witty, sophisticated, urbane, uptown.

And from all this wondering, one thing came clear,

I wondered what the hell, I’m doing here?

 

Steve Scott – 2012

All rights reserved.

When Mike Venable asked me to create this blog, he said I could write about anything I wanted to. So far, it has been stories but I just thought “Why not throw in a poem or two along the way?” Now, I must qualify that by saying my poetic offerings are more in the realm of “Pomes” and that poetic license also reflects that most of mine are not too serious but more whimsical. I suffer/benefit from a family condition which I call “Rhyming Couplet Syndrome,” which means that I simply can’t stop rhyming. Most of the topics are merely my personal observations of the craziness we see in our world every day. By the way… I am the POME GNOME, so if you know anyone whose life story should be put to verse, please refer to shameless commercial message at the end of this offering. The name has been changed to protect the guilty.

AUNT BETTY’S WRECK, or the dangers of distracted driving.

Aunt Betty went a’ motoring,

To tend to sundry actions

And vowed that she’d not be deterred,

By superfluous distractions.

So she placed her iPhone on the seat,

Where it innocently sat,

And every once in awhile,

She gave it a gentle “pat.”

Quite proud she was of the discipline,

She so nobly displayed.

But soon enough, her confidence,

Was to find itself mislaid.

It was soft at first, and gentle,

A distant little jingle.

But her iPhone “tapping” finger,

Began to slightly tingle.

Evil electronic spirits,

Began to frolic in her head.

And finger tips to keyboard,

Were very quietly led.

“I’ll just sneak a little peek,

It really couldn’t matter,”

But this simple attention lapse,

Would cause a major splatter.

Something jumped out and hit her,

Wham! Ka-Pow! Ka-Blooey!

And she said some really funny words,

Which weren’t drat, poo poo, or phooey.

She swore it wasn’t there before,

It must have kinda “sprouted.”

And we all know that Aunt Betty’s

Veracity can’t be doubted.

There was noise and dust and chaos,

And bricks and lots of rocks.

And when the smoke had finally cleared.

She’d done “kilt” a giant mailbox!

 

Well, there you have it. Here is the commercial:

pomegnome.com