I’ve been a little too serious lately… so hopefully this is more fun!
One of my favorite poems was published in 1914 by Joyce Kilmer:
Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
My comedic version:
Phone-Trees
I think that I should never hear
A poem lovely as, operator here.
A phone-tree hungry time consume
Against our lives it doeth presume;
A phone-tree that takes us all day
To find the right end we will pray;
The phone-tree may impatient wear
On thee, and cause radical loss of hair;
Upon our bosom a telephone is lain
As we wait on hold for something lame.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only Insurance companies
….. can make a damn phone-tree.
