Is it Poetry Month? Bah. Every day is a day for poetry.
The other day I was musing about the Greek dramas I have read, which are all poetry. They're lovely and all that, but a bit long.
I was talking recently about someone who's real first name is James, although he goes by something else, and it brought to mind one of my favorite poems ever, by A.A. Milne:
James James
Morrison Morrison
Weatherby George Dupree
Took great
care of his Mother,
Though he was only three.
James James Said to his Mother,'
"Mother," he said, said he,
"You must never go down
to the end of town
if you don't go down with me."
And on it goes. She doesn't, of course, listen to him. There's nothing even the King could do. Isn't it charming?
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