Three Ditties From the Paper Writing Cemetery

I recently purchased the complete poems of Dorothy Parker and Walt Whitman. In response to them, i've written these 3 little ditties. Dorothy Parker, by the way, now stands as my favorite American poet. Though she never achieves an incredible, epic pitch, she rarely, if ever, drops below par. Edna St. Vincent Millay's Renascene or Spring poems, and Frost's Mending wall or Nothing Gold Can Stay doubtless remain high favorites, and let's not forget T.S. Eliot (though he's part Brit)'s The Hollow Men and The Naming of Cats, but they succeed in the way an Olympic Gold medalists succeeds: with incredible flair and once every 4 years. Parker, however, is too practical, too down to earth to take herself too seriously. She succeeds in the way a lumber jack would, one tree at a time. Off the top of my head, i suggest you read "Coda" or "Poem in the American Manner" or "Song 4."

I won't be writing/existing for a little while, so i thought i'd send these your way so as not to be forgotten.

One life:

You live one time in your whole life,

There’s no exceeding the limit,

So find yourself a pretty wife,

Read all the best books and live it.

A Matter of Preference:

It’s a long commute to the stars;

Besides, the air is way to thin.

Leave the music to strum guitars,

I like the earthiness of sin.

Ode to Whitman

I have to grant you’ve some talent,

And grant you the right of way,

After all, I’m the one who’s silent,

On how to keep the life of what you say.

If only you’d some sense,

For a moment, for pause,

I’d serve you recompense,

In six-syllabled clause.