National Poetry Month

It is! You may not have remembered. I didn't. But I was reminded at Wordplay where I performed a trio of impromptu sonnets of questionable merit, based on famous pieces of art suggested by the audience. Then I decided that most of this past weekend's column should be in rhyme. And of course, I'm still writing limericks each week for BBSpot.

I also had some small celebration of poetry this weekend. Not only is shideem still not dead, but we celebrated the fact with Charades and Oracle (my favorite game ever). For round two, the wiseacre next to me decided to start writing in iambic pentameter. Many, myself included, followed suit. As it turns out, that didn't necessarily help the game, but I applaud him for doing it just the same because it was a cool idea.

This weekend was also the Williamstown Library Book Sale, where I spent far, far too much money. But in addition to a handful of sci-fi/fantasy novels, a bucket of Dave Barry books, many cartoon collections from the Far Side to Mad to Doonesbury, Allan Sherman's autobiography, two books by Bill Maher, and many other comedic books, the prize of the day was a 6-volume hardcover set of Ogden Nash poems. I was thrilled to find it.

Tying all of this together is one small poem. So in honor of poetry month, I leave you with this verse by Ogden Nash, which I mentioned at the party, and which Allan Sherman mentions in his autobiography:

I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree.
In fact*, unless the billboards fall,
I'll never see a tree at all.

(I have seen this variously sourced as "Perhaps", "In fact", and even "Indeed". I shall research this in my new hardcover collection, and let you know what the truth is.)