So here's a poem that occurred to me while I worked yesterday. Keep in mind that I haven't followed the actual ode form--there's neither strophe, antistrophe, nor epode. I haven't chosen the Pindaric, Homerian, or Irregular form. These are just thoughts so far, with some wordplay involved. And it's probably too polemic to be a poem in any case, but I thought that loathing would be a fun, ironic twist to an ode. So here it is:
Ode to George W. Bush
The dimmest of bulbs, the dullest of knives,
I must admire his brass balls
(or is it brainless conviction?)
as he and the knaves on his staff
send wave after wave of braver men
and women to needless, deadly tasks. Only the dumbest
dullards would praise the knob who wastes
the lives of noble soldiers to prove he’s a man. A lost cause,
but he can’t think his way
from here to there, from A to B,
from C to shining C-.
In the best of all ends
we hope to see that he’s
at least as well
hung as Saddam was.
Yeah, and it's probably a bit too juvenile, too. But it makes me laugh. Plus, I just had to write it down, because it was distracting me. Now I can move on to my satiric short story about the invasion of Iowa.