PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Oh, most certainly.  The poem: Oh, most certainly.  The poem exists because of your kindness; and the title is now correct because of what you pointed out.  I am very grateful to you.

Gout is no friend of mine! I: Gout is no friend of mine! I remember being my Grandfather's page, as a gout sufferer he would lean on me much like the Earl of Dorincourt did lean on the shoulders of Cedric Errol (Little Lord Fauntleroy). Or so I imagined. My dad had it too and at a younger age as well. So my battle with this foe appears to have been preset before me.

I know, right?: I know, right? One of the many things today that grind my gears. Thanks for commenting!

Perhaps an apt alternate: Perhaps an apt alternate title (on a jovial and personal level) could be something along the lines of: 'She's Still My Girl.' But that's just me. Hoping there is no offence in that remark. Thank you for sticking to your guns. That spiteful "B+" is in this reading noted and repealed. Perhaps those that espouse Method over Essence shall ever have the upper hand. But the soul of 'all things' is always its "Poetry."

Thank you for commenting.  I,: Thank you for commenting.  I, too, shall be recording it.  I wish the Wyoming Corrections people would compel his two murderers to watch every minute of it, with a quiz to follow---or a severe penalty imposed if they were to fail---but I know that will not be the case.  But I am glad to know you will be watching/recording.  That particular network has been giving it a heavy advertisement all day.

Thank you very much for that: Thank you very much for that vote of confidence, but I am, alas, no longer able to do the research that would be required, as I have no access to a university library, nor the mobility to gather up the needed texts.  One of the historical ironies of that Covid Pandemic was that Mary Shelley predicted something similar to it in her novel, The Last Man, which is now credited by many scholars as being the very first science fiction novel.  Many people think Frankenstein qualifies as science fiction, but the only scientific aspect of it---the creation of the Monster---was described in terms that she deliberately kept vague (and only three sentences long, if I recall correctly).  Sometimes, her readers would ask her in public how the Monster was actually created, and she answered by shrugging her shoulders and saying, "I don't know."   I will share one final anecdote about her.  Some enterprising playwright, I forget who, decided that the novel could be reduced to a two hour play, and sought her permission for that, which she granted.  She was so humble that she asked if they would mind if she attended the opening night.  The actor who took the part of the Monster was a very tall man, a towering man actually, and he designed his own make-up which, for the time, was considered terrifyingly hideous.  At the end of the play, she asked if she might go back stage to tell him how well she thought he performed as her Monster.  Mary was just barely five feet tall without heels.  When the actor was told that Mrs. Shelley wanted to come backstage to meet him, he had a panic attack.  He had just finished terrifying the first night audience (and was well written up in the papers, the next day, for his performance), and he was terrified to meet Mary.  When they brought her into his dressing room, she had to look up at him, because of his height, but he was sweating profusely and visibly trembling.  She, however, set his mind at ease and commended his performance and the make-up he had created for the part. I think I have been in love with her since I was nine years old.

Bats: You can hear me reading this one at https://youtube.com/shorts/ZHUShioclZY