PRETTY USELESS THINGS
Poems by marcus baumgart
Marcus Baumgart dabbles in verse.
It comes in waves, breaking upon him every couple of years. It is curious, but he can’t seem to do it all the time. It is very incidental, and seasonal.
No less fun for all that. Results are presented in all their amateur glory. Enjoy.
RHYME
(to be sung by classrooms of children)
I’M A LITTLE TEA-POT,
I MIGHT RUST -
BUT NOT BEFORE
YOU’VE TURNED TO DUST.
YOU ARE FULL OF BLOOD, I’M FULL OF TEA,
BUT YOU WON’T LAST AS LONG AS ME.
I was
I was upon a midday weary
Versing hard, and then I nearly
Upset cart and maiden too.
What is one supposed to do
In circumstances so well met?
In resolve, I strike and fall
Upon the bed of friendly things
Not dreamt of here. And now
I stay and sleep.
Ode to Hadrian
YOU ARE INDESTRUCTIBLE
YOUR SKIN IS ALL OF STEEL
YOUR HANDS ARE CARVED OF MARBLE BLOCKS
YOUR HEART AN IRON WHEEL
YOUR RIBS ENCIRCLE BURNING SUNS
YOUR FOREHEAD GIRDS THE SKY
I DAILY THANK THE STARS ABOVE
THAT YOU WILL NEVER DIE
THE GOD’s DREAM
To be sung by groups of non-binary children with skipping ropes
SEE THE MOON A SICKLE-HORN, SEE THE GOD SLEEP
HIS DOGGY CAUGHT A FISH IN THE SEA SO DEEP
DEEP IN THE VALLEY WHERE THE LITTLE DOGS PLAY
DOWN CAME THE BIG DOG HAPPY ONE DAY
HAPPY AND SNIFFING HE FRY THAT FISH
PUT FISHY THINGS IN THE LITTLE DOGS DISH
LITTLE DOGS EAT NOW, PUT IT ALL AWAY
SLEEP WITH THE GOD NOW, STARVE ANOTHER DAY.
