I stepped out at half-past eight,
Sauntered off to perambulate;
Strode on down the boulevard,
Tip-toed through a neighbor’s yard.
Took a turn, strolled through a park,
Ended up at “Noah’s Ark”;
Stumbled out where they load kegs,
Plodded on to stretch my legs.
Promenade not near complete,
Bombshell swept me off my feet;
At Fifth Ave we had some rounds,
Busted moves to high-class sounds.
Told her “love ya” then and there,
She said “see ya,” didn’t care.
Roamed the town to get some air;
Wandered back, crashed in a chair.
Told a friend the sordid tale;
He looked like he’d had a whale.
Cuz not once, all through my talk,
Did I mention the word walk.
Nor would I to tell again.
Walking is so...pedestrian.
| Copyright © 2020 by Geoffrey Dean |
When I wrote the poem, I was thinking of Harold Bloom’s objections to J.K. Rowling’s writing style, including her avoidance of describing the activity of walking AS walking - her characters always “stretch their legs” when they are in fact walking. See “Harry Potter and the Money Making Machine: Harold Bloom continues his assault on Potter Mania, ” March 7, 2007.
ReplyDeleteThat is the only objection he could come up with? Many people over age 12 could come up with hundreds of objections, not that Rowling cares as she laughs all the way to the bank
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