Tragedy at the circus
Readersguide has just linked to a post over at somewhere in the suburbs about This American Life’s spoofs of William Carlos Willams’ “This is Just to Say.” This poem is, as somewhere in the suburbs points out, a very easy target for parody.
The original:
This Is Just To Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the iceboxand which
you were probably
saving
for breakfastForgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
And my own parody, much too wordy in the last stanza and based on an actual event:
This is just to say
I have run over
your bicycle
that was in
the garageand which
you were probably
planning
to ride with your friendsForgive me
but if you had put it away
like I asked you to six times
it would not now be
so flat
and so broken
What do you say, any takers?
spynotes 
Oooh! I wanna play but it will have to wait til Monday.
I wish my parents had posted slightly sarcastic satirical versions of classic poems instead of nagging after my misdeeds.
Something there is that does not love a bike,
That sends the great big blue van over it,
And spills its chain and handlebars down the drive,
And makes Mom mad you didn’t put it back.
I could go on, but it’s a long poem. (Forgive me the meter, the syllables are right but the stresses aren’t. Also, forgive me if it’s not a big blue van, but it fit.)
Oh, poo, I just made another bike squashing spoof, rather than a WCW spoof. Oh well, I’m better with Frost anyway.
That works beautifully, Katie. And amazingly, it IS a big blue van. A big blue van with very poor sightlines out the back.
Loved your version! Should I admit I once ran over my husband’s bike? Which he had NOT left out of place? Probably not. 🙂 Thanks for stopping by Suburbia.
Oops!
This is just to say
I have erased
Hannah Montana
And The Suite Life
This is just to say
I have erased
Hannah Montana
And The Suite Life
Of Zach And Cody
and which
you were probably
going to watch
today
Forgive me
But you hit your sister
No TV
until Monday
This Is Just To Say
I have stolen
The Red Wheel
Barrow in
The back yard
And which
I know was part
of a poem
you wrote.
Forgive me
The chickens were delicious
so tender
and so savory.
This Is Just To Say
I have thrown away
The ragged rawhide
That I know
You love to gnaw
And which
You have chewed
Until soggily
Unpleasant underfoot
Forgive me
Later this evening
I will prepare your kibble
With pot-roast flavored sauce
This Is Just To Say
I have tried and failed
to rewrite this thing
That you posted
onFriday
And which
So many others
Have so brilliantly
Parodied
Forgive me
But I suck at this
And have clogged your comments
With this tripe.
Kenneth Koch has a poem called Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams, which consists entirely of parodies of that poem:
1
I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do
and its wooden beams were so inviting.
2
We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.
3
I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the next ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.
4
Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg.
Forgive me. I was clumsy, and
I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the doctor!
This Is Just To Say
that I have erased
the hard drive of the computer
you left on your desk
on which you stored
all the poems you wrote
about wheelbarrows and chickens
Forgive me
they were so precious and
I am fond of simple clarity
“homewrecker.”
this is just to say
i have taken
your husband
as a lover
and i know you need him.
but last night
i needed
him too.
he has a gentle touch,
and i can
clearly see,
how you two are so
happy.
Thanks for all the contributions. You guys are amazing and literate and funny as hell. And Michelle, thanks for reading/commenting. Yours is lovely.
This is just to say
That after three months
Sailing the coast of Mexico
It would be fine with me
If I never see
That boat again.
You were probably looking forward
To our next voyage, in a month or two or three
When I might be ready to go again
And all I can say is
Maybe in another lifetime.