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These forums are being phased out. The new, improved JOHN SKELTON 1460-1529 Forum is at classicalpoetryforums.com.
Posted by Michael R. Collings on February 20, 1998 at 14:15:59:
Hi,
Just found your page and thought I would send you two 'skeltonics'. I enjoy Skelton's poetry, especially the rapid rhythms and the vibrant rhyme.
So here are my versions:
SKELTON’S VERSE
Skelton’s verse,
vivid and terse—
sometimes perverse
always diverse—
sought to immerse
sequentially traverse
oft intersperse
rhythms obverse
structures inverse
sometimes a curse
always a nurse
for society’s purse—
to his critics’ asperse
a cut-throat reverse—
lyric converse
to wisdom disburse—
vivid and terse
was John Skelton’s verse.
JUDI’S OTTER
Skeltonics
It’s luck, they say,
in Monterrey,
to spend the day
along the pier
when you are here,
eat fish in beer
with jaunty cheer,
and tune your ear
until you hear
the rhythmic heat
of waves that beat
beneath your feet,
surge, retreat,
and surge to meet
the bittersweet
of salt.
It’s luck
to watch a duck
bob up and down,
acquatic clown,
pretend to drown
rise feather-gowned
and barely damp—
bread crust clamped
secure; or look
in a hidden nook
of weedy rock
by water pocked
and watch a crab
(with porta-cab)
try to nab
a wisp of fish
for as tasty a dish
as it could wish
then with a swish
scuttle back
into its
(its hermit s)
hunch-a-back
and with a clack
patiently wait
a luncheon date
with some further bait
outside its gate.
But luckier yet
(if luck you get)
is to have met,
though from afar,
the pier’s main star—
dark as a spar
daubed with tar,
smooth as silk
and cloth of that ilk,
king of the water
a sleek brown otter.
We were walking,
ly talking,
sometimes gawking
at seals and gulls,
at rusty hulls,
at leaky sculls,
and barnacles,
when…“Look!” I cried
as I espied
it floating aside
on the freshing tide.
It bobbed and rolled
as if to scold
two voyeurs bold
who stopped to share
its pleasures there.
With a silky flair
in the ocean’s glare,
devil-may-care,
it tried to outstare
us and declare
without restraint
or sad complaint
or subtle feint
that it would enjoy
(like a little boy)
the ocean’s toys.
It rolled and dove,
surfaced and hove
within the cove;
it paddled and played
as if we had made
our long crusade
just for its parade.
For ten minutes long
we two were a throng
who tried to prolong
the otter’s display.
We wanted to stay
on that pier all day,
watching and laughing,
mind-photographing,
sharing and quaffing
its antic wet-show.
And then—somber —
it decided to go;
it lengthened to flow
and dived deep below.
It didn’t return.
Our eyes came to burn
as we stared at the sea
where we thought it might be;
but alas, it was gone
and the water seemed wan
and the sunlight thereon
seemed as pale as a swan.
But we smiled at each other
(which was surely no bother)
leaned over, and kissed.
What we would have missed,
what an unforeseen triste
had we not had the thought
(quite a long-shot)
and decided to stay
in old Monterrey
on that wonderful day.
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