POEM FOR THURSDAY AND THE ANNOUCEMENT OF A COMPETITION

If Laertes, the great king of Ithaka,
Had had a book written about him
We would say of Odysseus what Laertes
Often said to his friends: “A good son;
A nice lad, but really – something of a nebbish.”
(You didn’t know Laertes spoke Yiddish?
Ha! The least of what you don’t know of him!)
So it is; you live your life grandly
And then some luftmensch, some poet,
Likes better how your son's name scans.

Today only: a contest!

First, so far as I know, there was Walt Kelly’s:

I was eatin’ some chop-sooey

With a lady in Saint Looie

When a-sudden comes a knockin’on the door

And the knocker he says “Honey,

Roll this rocker out some money

Or your Daddy shoots a baddie to the floor!

Then my father’s:

I was speaking Esperanto

With my baby in Toronto
When a-sudden comes a knockin’on the door

And the knocker he said “Tonto

You had better get out pronto

‘Cause the milk train doesn’t stop here anymore!

Then mine:

I was in the Bight of Benin

With my buddy V.I. Lenin,

When a-sudden comes a knockin’on the door

And the knocker he says “Trotsky

Things are not so hotsky-totsky

‘Cause St. Petersburg’s not Leningrad no more!

And now, readers few but cherce – mighty cherce – comes your turn. The winning entry will have my approbation – what more could you want?