My columns reviving terse verse have brought a lot of versifiers out of the closet and have revived many ghost verses from an earlier day.
My friend Sara Boynoff Coonradt, for example, recalls one she wrote for the late Matt Weinstock's column after Dr. Alfred Kinsey revealed that poorly educated males were more sexually active than college graduates.
\o7 How doth our friend the human male
In basic pattern vary?
The range extends, the Doctor says,
From plethora to nary.
The male who's little been to school
Of pleasure has most knowledge
While scarcely any fun at all
Has he who's been to college.
A lesson clearly it implies
For woman who're discerning:
Do never aid nor comfort give
To males of higher learning.
Often, the titles are more revealing than the verses. This one, by Margaret Ehrlich, is called "Hope Is God's Flashlight."
He never said goodbye,
And signed it ED.
"Had to have my car repaired,"
Was all it said.
He never said goodbye,
Dale Eunson of Santa Barbara recalls one Ogden Nash wrote for the amusement of himself and novelist-playwright Jay Dratler when they shared an office while doing nothing for big bucks as contract writers at MGM.
Producers and such do not jostle
Just bring on the girls and the wassail
And plenty of cash
For Dratler and Nash
Ye Gods, they are simply colossal.
At age 80, Robert S. Seares of Redlands rues something he missed in life:
Alas and alack
As I look back
I never was the victim
Of an attack
By a nymphomaniac.
Ruth Sklar of Sherman Oaks neatly encapsulates an experience that I have had:
Did I have trouble
With my Spanish in Madrid?
Why, no, I didn't
But the Spanish people did.
Janet Krueger of Long Beach calls this one "Another Glorious Fourth:"
My plumbing, appliances, automobile,
Much to my dismay,
Time breakdowns so that they, not I,
Get every holiday.
Weinstock published this one by Roberta Case Levitt just when the jogging craze was starting:
To lose some weight, the experts state,
It helps to do some jogging.
You other guys can exercise--
I'd rather take a flogging.
Ida Eaton of Palm Springs calls her effort "poetry most profound":
Do you love me
Or do you not?
You told me once
But I forgot
Daniel Fleck of Upland offers reassurances after a date that was evidently not an unqualified success:
About last night
It was a blast
Don't take fright
You're not the last
The prolific Ormly Gumfudgin of La Crescenta laments a loss at tennis to his "attachment":
Nancy White of Glendale, who writes verses for children about animals, was inspired to write this one by my essay on the sex life of the sea slug (possibly not for children):
The snail is nature's hermaphrodite,
And this is not to some oversight due.
Being slow, it's complex
To find the right sex,
So any old snail he encounters will do.
Having misquoted the last word of Joan G. Gabrielson's verse, I feel obliged to get it right for posterity:
She asked The Doc to diagnose
Her pains--from head to toes.
Unperplex'd, he Rx'd:
You must cut down on leisure,
For you've had a Julius Seizure!
Perhaps having been reminded of Shakespeare, I transposed the last word from seizure to Caesar , which of course spoiled everything.