Résumé I, II - Parody Dorothy Parker - Résumé
Ties restrain you,
flies handicap,
laces strain you -
so cut the crap!
To the wind fall
mouldy socks,
free, unpinned, all
chastity locks.
Cotton, plastic
polymers spun,
and elastic, -
all undone.
Brand names flutter
spuriously
to the gutter
falling free...
© Jonathan Robin - Parody Dorothy PARKER – Résumé written 1 December 1995
Résumé II - Carry on Captains Courageous...
Key Iraqis go to bat
for Sadam in khaki hat,
Rabbis Rabin shoot to kill -
Judah’s stab in back boots ill.
Istambul bears Turkey pies,
curds way, paring budgets high.
Hutu-Tutsi’s united states
to new chaos disintegrates.
Russia’s booming, Soviet
sees end looming so Viet
sends for G.I.’s and their aids, -
good and bad guys lost on raids.
Bosno, Croat manipulate
bombs to throw at Serbian state,
Montenegro NATO mauls, -
white and negro answer calls.
Tino Craxi brought to book,
all too lax he powder took.
Berlusconi followed on
Mafia’s crony, - bribes are buon.
Charles, Camilla, paint the town,
crown, Diana, tumble down.
From the workers Chirac calls
perks and shirkers ere he falls...
© Jonathan Robin - Parody Dorothy PARKER – Résumé written 1 December 1995
Résumé
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
Dorothy PARKER 1893_1967
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Resumé
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Men State - Parody Diana MORGAN - Statement
Men State
Ladies who would break the rules
toy with boys they take as tools.
(c) Jonathan Robin - Parody written 1 December 1995
Statement
Gentlemen who are not fools
Take out girls who know the rules.
Diana MORGAN My Sex Right or Wrong: 1947
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dorothy Parker
Dorothy Parker [Controversy Music, ASCAP - 1987]
--------------
Dorothy was a waitress on the promenade
She worked the night shift
Dishwater blonde, tall and fine
She got a lot of tips
Well, earlier I'd been talkin' stuff
In a violent room
Fighting with lovers past
I needed someone with a quicker wit than mine
Dorothy was fast
Well, I ordered - "Yeah, let me get a fruit cocktail, I ain't 2 hungry"
Dorothy laughed
She said "Sounds like a real man 2 me"
Kinda cute, U wanna take a bath?
(do you wanna, do you wanna, bath)
I said "Cool, but I'm leaving my pants on" (she say)
"Cuz I'm kind of going with someone"
She said "Sounds like a real man 2 me"
"Mind if I turn on the radio?"
"Oh, my favorite song" she said
And it was Joni singing "Help me I think I'm falling"
(Ring)
The phone rang and she said
"Whoever's calling can't be as cute as U"
Right then I knew I was through
(Dorothy Parker was cool)
My pants where wet, they came off
But she didn't see the movie
Cuz she hadn't read the book first
Instead she pretended she was blind
An affliction brought on by a witch's curse
Dorothy made me laugh (ha ha)
I felt much better so I went back
2 the violent room (tell us what U did)
Let me tell U what I did...
I took another bubble bath with my pants on
All the fighting stopped
Next time I'll do it sooner
This is the ballad of Dorothy Parker
Dorothy Parker, Dorothy Parker, Dorothy Parker
Dorothy Parker, Dorothy Parker, Dorothy Parker
Well
Dorothy Parker, Dorothy Parker
Well
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad Of Dorothy Parker
Dorothy was a waitress on the promenade
She worked the night shift
Dishwater blonde, tall and fine
She got a lot of tips
Well, earlier Id been talkin stuff
In a violent room
Fighting with lovers past
I needed someone with a quicker wit than mine
Dorothy was fast
Well, I ordered - yeah, let me get a fruit cocktail, I aint 2 hungry
Dorothy laughed
She said sounds like a real man 2 me
Kinda cute, u wanna take a bath?
(do you wanna, do you wanna, bath)
I said cool, but Im leaving my pants on (she say)
Cuz Im kind of going with someone
She said sounds like a real man 2 me
Mind if I turn on the radio?
Oh, my favorite song she said
And it was joni singing help me I think Im falling
(ring)
The phone rang and she said
Whoevers calling cant be as cute as u
Right then I knew I was through
(dorothy parker was cool)
My pants where wet, they came off
But she didnt see the movie
Cuz she hadnt read the book first
Instead she pretended she was blind
An affliction brought on by a witchs curse
Dorothy made me laugh (ha ha)
I felt much better so I went back
2 the violent room (tell us what u did)
Let me tell u what I did...
I took another bubble bath with my pants on
All the fighting stopped
Next time Ill do it sooner
This is the ballad of dorothy parker
Dorothy parker, dorothy parker, dorothy parker
Dorothy parker, dorothy parker, dorothy parker
Well
Dorothy parker, dorothy parker
Well
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Requiem I - Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem
Through the artificial flowers
let me slide when all my powers
have passed as pass man’s mortal hours,
and let me burn.
Spurn graven verses for my head,
spade not the body laid, instead,
as I’ll no longer look ahead
book me no urn.
© Jonathan Robin – written 2 December 1995 Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem for alternative version see below
robi03_0795_stev02_0001 PXX_DIZ
Requiem II
From life's dark, unwholesome cage
where love frets, siege raised in rage,
set free who sad lived, glad the page
turns uniting night to day.
Crave no rave elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here actor lies in heart arrest
retractions over his clay.
© Jonathan Robin – written 2 December 1995 Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem revised 25 December 2009
robi03_0796_stev02_0001 PXX_DIZ
for previous version see below
Requiem II
In a dark, unwholesome cage
let me fret and seethe in rage,
sadly I’ve lived and glad the page
turns uniting night and day.
Rave no crude elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here lies life’s actor under arrest
with a tractor over his clay.
© Jonathan Robin – Parody written 2 December 1995 Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem
Requiem
Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me
Here he lies where he long’d to be
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Robert Louis Stevenson 1850 - 1894
Requiem
Under the free and open sky,
There let me rest, nor breathe a sigh, -
Gladly I’ve lived, and gladly I’ll lie,
Content by night and day.
Grave no rude tombstone to mark my rest;
But deep in your soul may you say with zest;
“Here is the Seeker after his Quest,
And the Actor after the Play.”
Hamish Mann 1896 – 1917 A Subaltern’s Musings: 1918
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Small Hours
(after Dorothy Parker)
No more the joys, of jubilant poems come back;
and at this end of day
I see the wide world that’s turning black
and nowhere in it there’s any grey.
Far too sad is the sheer loneliness
while the skyline glows
before darkness suddenly flourish
and painful it is to know
that another solitary day will come
with time in it moving much too slow
before I will return to an empty home
and I am like a leave that in the wind blows
with my life a falling, twisting
kind of thing.
[Reference: “The small hours” by Dorothy Parker.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Words Woven - Parody Mary BEULEY - Words Woven
Words woven into speech
soon reach
intact thread spirit of each act,
knit warp and weft of wit wish fact,
dreams' tapestry may teach.
Words express essentials,
transmit, unwind
from mind to mind,
address ideas which, blind,
would grope for means to equate
sensations refined,
coarse, sophisticate.
Thus they incarnate
emotion's multi coloured coat, pattern twist
around ideas which form,
unform,
inform or disinform,
or take by storm
precisely or by gist
the geist soul kissed.
Words woven into speech
pen hand,
when scanned
from thoughts’ life blood leach
emotions, sense, dressed to suit
points phallic and points mute,
ideo-grand!
© Jonathan Robin Parody Mary BEULEY 1837_1916 written 12 December 1995 – Words Woven revised 31 July 2008 notably first verse below
Words woven into speech
soon reach
to knit the spirit of each act,
the warp and weft of every fact,
through dreams to teach.
______________
Words Woven
Words woven into rhyme
In time
Become a tapestry of thought
A canvas of experience in which
Our dreams are wrought.
Words are the evidence of what goes on
communicate
Within the mind.
They clothe the invisible
With robes of speech,
Sophisticated as silk,
Homespun as hessian,
And in between
The many-patterned, many-textured range,
Familiar and strange,
Of words -
Woven and dyed and spun
For Fun
Or seriously aware
Of what is there.
Words woven into rhyme
Or prose
Transpose
Giving the tiny embryo of thought
A dress to wear, most delicately wrought,
And caught for ever in a form know
And understand.
Mary BEULEY 1837_1916
© Jonathan Robin Parody Mary BEULEY written 12 December 1995
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sheepish Bo Peep Recombined
Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep
and cannot tell where to find them,
splice more DNA for cloning today
with no zoning law to unwind them...
[c] Jonathan Robin Parody Bo Peep written 27 November 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Eagle’s Second Cousin
He strides the stage in gartered bands,
Close to his Lady, he expands,
yet soon to earth with bump he lands.
A sea of sound surrounds the stalls
He hearkens - though each hiss appalls -
And takes a bow to harsh cat-calls!
27 December 1995
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Outside the spring is blossoming
(after Dorothy Parker)
Outside the spring is blossoming
while a myriad of birds sing,
later in the afternoon
it might be raining
but it matters not,
even the summer days that I have got
are far too quickly passing
and some are cold and others hot.
There’s a new lady that I might adore
waiting at my front door
and I wonder what will be
her impression of me?
I see her sparkling eyes and shining hair
while she looks lovely and fair,
if she stays or leaves, such things have happened before,
she will be only one more.
[Reference: “The new love” by Dorothy Parker.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Penny Wise?
Woman is a paradox,
maid man, unmade-up, shocks:
first fair, then jet, straight, curly locks
preferring, spends her pounds
in losing pounds and thus she mocks
her wai(s) t on earth - weight grounds
high hopes for lightness - Goldilocks,
spends cents sans sense, from birth to box -
like men who her pet mirth are found,
both sage and jester, light, profound -
lies soon, sighs, swoons, earth bound.
2 December 1995 revised 18 July 2007
robi03_0794_robi03_0000 WXX_DJX
for previous version see below
Penny Wise?
Woman is a paradox,
She heights and depths both plumbs;
who golden here, there curly locks
prefers, who spends her pounds
in losing pounds and thus she mocks
her wai[s]t on earth - weight grounds
high hopes for lightness - Goldilocks
lies soon, sighs, swoons, earth bound.
2 December 1995
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Right across the country from me
(after Dorothy Parker, for A)
Right across the country from me
is the place that you call home,
a place where my spirit at times roam,
where you live in a kind of tranquillity.
Sometimes I do not know
how to put my feelings in words, to express
my utter loneliness
and at break of day and its end the horizon glows
in the place where you dwell
and under others skies
the day begins and dies
while of my thoughts I want you to tell
but maybe it's much better
not to say anything,
not even to make your telephone ring
and never to write a letter.
[Reference: "Hearthside" by Dorothy Parker.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Threnody
(after Dorothy Parker)
Jacarandas flower in the street,
and maybe for you my feelings did not matter
while the trees’ scent hangs pervasive and sweet
my life is broke as if our love does shatter.
Maybe our separation is a blessing
and I wipe the tears away,
while it feels as if all meaning is missing
and the sun is bright at the beginning of day.
Outside birds in those trees are whistling
and there’s tightness in my breast
from our painful parting
and in my own city I feel like a guest
that has overstayed his welcome
while I am lost without a home.
[Reference: Threnody by Dorothy Parker.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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I don't care what is written about me so long as it isn't true.
quote by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Requiem II - Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem
Requiem II
From life's dark, unwholesome cage
where love frets, siege raised in rage,
set free who sad lived, glad the page
turns uniting night to day.
Crave no rave elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here actor lies in heart arrest
retractions over his clay.
revised 25 December 2009
robi03_0796_stev02_0001 PXX_DIZ
for previous version see below
Requiem II
In a dark, unwholesome cage
let me fret and seethe in rage,
sadly I’ve lived and glad the page
turns uniting night and day.
Rave no crude elegy to test
verse prowess, - without protest
here lies life’s actor under arrest
with a tractor over his clay.
Requiem I
Through the artificial flowers
let me slide when all my powers
have passed as pass man’s mortal hours,
and let me burn.
Spurn graven verses for my head,
spade not the body laid, instead,
as I’ll no longer look ahead
book me no urn.
© Jonathan Robin – Parody written 2 December 1995 Parody Robert Louis STEVENSON - Requiem
Requiem
Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me
Here he lies where he long’d to be
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Robert Louis Stevenson 1850 - 1894
Requiem
Under the free and open sky,
There let me rest, nor breathe a sigh, -
Gladly I’ve lived, and gladly I’ll lie,
Content by night and day.
Grave no rude tombstone to mark my rest;
But deep in your soul may you say with zest;
“Here is the Seeker after his Quest,
And the Actor after the Play.”
Hamish Mann 1896 – 1917 A Subaltern’s Musings: 1918
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Responsum to All my days are trances
A las the dream askance is
N or is Life what it seems,
A s swift pass all Time’s chances -
N ow here, now gone, - Man’s schemes
S mile once! Ephemeral glances
WER e spent on empty dreams!
© Jonathan Robin acrostic parody written 26 June 1996 Parody Responsum to All my days are trances
All my days are trances
And all my days are trances
and all my nightly dreams
are where thy dark eye glances
and where they footstep gleams
by what ethereal dances
in what eternal streams...
Author Unknown
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Parody
Parody in playful way displays
Appropriation of intents, sense, form,
Reversing roles while wearing uniform,
Or, ‘armed against a sea of troubles’ weighs
Defiance ‘gainst a double’s narrow gaze
Yet inner truth respects whatever norm
Perpetuates crowd loud whose rowdy storm
As waves upon life’s sea Time must erase.
Replay, revision, rhythmic interplays,
Original outshines, - wise words transform
Dull into fun, blind minds undone, cold, warm,
Yet still informing, never still each phrase.
Post scriptum’s rhyming couplet we adjoin
So Parody should never sign ‘purloin’!
[c) Jonathan Robin robi3_1299 acrostic sonnet written 25 January 2007
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Guiled Fleece
Guiled Fleece
Forsaking the Bourse
That falls in the Spring,
The Bulls take stock, -
They must [l]earn to live
in a land without rallies
© Jonathan Robin parody Lady ISE written 20 July 2001
Wild Geese
Forsaking the mists
that rise in the Spring,
wild geese fly off,
they have learned to live
in a land without flowers.
Lady ISE 10th. Century
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Downhill and other Parodies - Christina ROSSETTI - Uphill
Yes, the clock ticks downhill all the way,
until the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From light to mo[u]rn, my friend.
But is there for the spring a resting-place,
a ring before the last dark hours begin,
may not time fleeting mask it from my face?
No second chance for sin.
Will timesharing ease the fears and fright?
Toc ticks till all’s in hock which went before.
May not Time’s knocks be reined in by insight?
There is no reign resistant to scythe sure.
Who may find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Time echoes onwards though the soul’s struck dumb.
Will there be time for me and all who seek?
Come, come! - the tocsin ticks to each his sum.
(c) Jonathan Robin Parody Christina ROSSETTI - Uphill
15 October 2005
Uphill
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labor you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
Christina G ROSSETTI 1830_1894
Uphill Holiday
Will the long journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
And shall I have to stand the whole long way?
Of standing you shall have no end.
Is there no rest, then for my weary feet?
For comfort you shall seek in vain.
Must I take drinke, and sandwiches to eat?
You will get nothing on the train.
Shall there be cheer, and beds for all who seek?
Some seek who shall not find.
Will there be sunshine through the livelong week?
Rain, too, and cloud and wind.
Shall I pay dear for my brief breathing space?
You shall give richly of your little store.
Will there be ample board at Seaview Place?
So much – and nothing more.
George Henry VALLINS
Sincere Flattery 1954 Parody Christina ROSSETTI Uphill
Uphill Train Travel
Will the 8.20 take me all the way?
Yes, and round the bend.
And how long is the journey, would you say?
From morn to night, my friend.
And are there light refreshments on the train?
Refreshments? That’s a laugh.
And once I’m there, will I get back again?
God, no, they’re short of staff.
Shall I be seated? Will the signals fail?
A seat? You won’t get in.
How are they packed who go by British Rail?
Like sardines in a tin.
Do they reduce the service at the peak?
You’re lucky if they run.
And will it be the same again next week?
Too bloody true, old son.
Roger WODDIS 1917_1993 Parody Christina ROSSETTI Uphill
Uphill, What Inn is This
What inn is this
Where for the night
Peculiar traveller comes?
Who is the landlord?
Where the maids?
Behold what curious rooms!
No ruddy fires on the hearth,
No brimming tankards flow.
Necromancer, landlord,
Who are these below?
Emily DICKINSON - see Dorothy Parker – The Last Question
and Christina ROSSETTI Uphill
The Last Question
New love, new love, where are you to lead me?
All along a narrow way that marks a crooked line.
How are you to slake me, and how are you to feed me?
With bitter yellow berries, and a sharp new wine.
New love, new love, shall I be forsaken?
One shall go a-wandering, and one of us must sigh.
Sweet it is to slumber, but how shall we awaken —
Whose will be the broken heart, when dawn comes by?
Dorothy PARKER 1893_1967 –
See Emily Dickinson Uphill, What Inn is This?
and Christina ROSSETTI Uphill
PARKER Dorothy 1893_1967 park1_0014_park1_0000 PXX_LUX The Last Question_New love, new love, where are you to lead me
PARKER Dorothy 1893_1967 park1_0014_park1_0000 PXX_LUX The Last Question_New love, new love, where are you to lead me
The Inn of Life
‘As It was in the Beginning, - Is Now, - And...? Anno Domini I’.
* * *
'No room!
No room!
The Inn is full,
Yea - overfull.
No room have we
for such as ye -
Poor folk of Galilee,
Pass on! Pass on! '
'Nay then! -
Your charity
Will ne'er deny
Some corner mean,
Where she may lie unseen.
For see! -
Her time is nigh.'
'Alack! And she
So young and fair!
Place have we none;
And yet - how bid ye gone?
Stay then! - out there
Among the beasts
Ye may find room,
And eke a truss
To lie upon.'
‘Anno Domini 1913, etc.
* * *
'No room!
No room!
No room for Thee,
Thou Man of Galilee!
The house is full,
Yea, overfull.
There is no room for Thee, -
Pass on! Pass on!
Nay - see!
The place is packed.
'We scarce have room
For our own selves,
So how shall we
Find room for Thee,
Thou Man of Galilee, -
Pass on! Pass on!
But - if Thou shouldst
This way again,
And we can find
So much as one small corner
Free from guest,
Not then in vain
Thy quest.
But now -
The house is full.
Pass on! '
Christ passes
On His ceaseless quest,
Nor will He rest
With any,
Save as Chiefest Guest.
John OXENHAM 1852_1941 Parody After Christina ROSSETTI Uphill
And Emily Dickinson – Uphill, what Inn is this?
Re-Thrill
Does each dream overspill, thrill reach, fresh flight?
Yes, views that have no end …
Will astral journeys teach to breach new height?
From dusk to dawn, my friend.
But is there for the day a resting place?
A roof aloof from suffering, chagrin.
Pray daylight may not chide that cheerful place,
Nor resurrect grim sin.
Will I greet other travelers by day?
Those who may bliss restore ~
Must I then talk, balk at blasé, cliché?
Consider, recognize - step to the ‘fore.
Shall I find solace wash away what’s bleak?
Find favor through free smiles, fair fun.
Will there be joy all day until soul's sleep?
Yes! unafraid you will be made welcome...
Joy A BURKI-WATSON 1950_20 30 July 2007
Parody After Christina ROSSETTI Uphill
And Emily Dickinson – Uphill, what Inn is this?
Integrating suggestions JR.
The Death-Watch Beetle
“What manner of time does your watch keep
strange timekeeper? ” “The time of sleep.”
“I see no movement in the hands.”
“And yet the sleeper understands.”
“The sleeper understands! But how? ”
“You cannot understand it now.”
“And shall I never? ” “In the end
you’ll ask no other timepiece, friend.”
Humbert WOLFE 1885_1940
Parody After Christina ROSSETTI Uphill
And Emily Dickinson – Uphill, what Inn is this?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Coda
(after Dorothy Parker)
There’s a time that there’s pleasure in living,
to it there is something really divine,
when love is essence to taking and giving,
and life sparkles happy like good red wine
but when time does it thing and rushes on
the body looses all its usefulness
when most of one’s days are totally gone;
cynical one views friends with aloofness
while in art you hunt for some catharsis,
some seek the beauty of a younger lady
while they do want the essence of bliss
but life at the end becomes somewhat shady
while you conclude final moves in life’s spell,
to grasp the ways between heaven and hell.
[Reference: “Coda” by Dorothy Parker.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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