Member Poem

It seemed as if you’d come from a distant sphere,
a world devoid of vegetables and meat,
a world where wit is what the people eat,
where everyone’s a Carroll or a Lear.

Your words precipitate conviviality,
expressions never scuppered by banality,
nor is the message overly inscrutable,
nor is one single letter substitutable.

Although it seemed you’d come from a distant planet,
each rhyme you’d formed is curry-mint ice cream
to ears that hear. Moreover, we could scan it
and sing it, dance it, even grasp its theme!

It’s no small feat to draft such sesquipedalian
delights—unless, of course, one is an alien.

____________

In memory of John Whitworth (1945-2019)