Sunday, July 22, 2012

Your Sunday Poem

This prose poem by Charles Simic is from his book, "The World Doesn't End."

     Someone shuffles by my door muttering: "Our
goose is cooked."
    Strange!  I have my knife and fork ready.  I even
have the napkin tied around my neck, but the plate
before me is still empty.
     Nevertheless, someone continues to mutter
outside my door regarding a certain hypothetical,
allegedly cooked goose that he claims is ours in


Anonymous said...

An old woman, a boy & a donkey were going to town.
The boy rode on the donkey & the old woman walked.

As they went along they passed some people who remarked
"What a shame the old woman is walking and the boy is riding."

The woman and boy thought maybe the critics were right, so they changed positions.

Later they passed some people who remarked
"What a shame.... she makes that little boy walk."
So they then decided they'd both walk!

Soon they passed some more people who remarked
"They're really stupid to walk when they have a decent donkey to ride."

So, they both rode the donkey.
Now they passed some people
who shamed them by saying
"How awful to put such a load on a poor donkey."

The boy and man figured they were probably right,
so they decide to carry the donkey.

As they crossed the bridge,
they lost their grip on the animal
and he fell into the river and drowned.

The moral of the story?

If you try to please everyone, you might as well...

Kiss your ass goodbye!

Have A Nice Day

Sewertoons AKA Lynette Tornatzky said...

Someone muttering "cooked goose" outside one's door takes on a more un-piquant flavor after the Colorado shooting doesn't it?

Churadogs said...

Yes it does -- a nation with its brain aflame, seething, raging, looking for a gun . . .