Thursday poetry

I thought I'd do "Poetry Thursday" as a web site suggests but I kept forgetting when it was Thursday. Well, it's Thursday and I know I did a bit of poetry yesterday, sort-a, kind-a ... so obviuosly I like poetry that's not necessarily serious. That's what we've got today, including a picture that's a kind of pun. [If you don't get it, that's okay. Not many people actually concentrated in college on 20th century literature -- a fun but mostly useless persuit, as I can attest -- so if you want to know what this is about, add a comment and your email address and I'll explain, perhaps at painful length. Here's the picture which I'm really very fond of, it's from Cape Cod.

First poem by Jonathan Williams called, in French: Les Matins dans la Rue Fleurus no. 27
Gertrude Stein
arose at nine
and arose and arose and arose
and arose.

That's very short so I'll add my favorite limerick which surely has an author but I've never heard who it might be.

The Rev. Henry Ward Beecher
call the hen and elegant creature.
The hen pleased with that
laid an egg in his hat,
and thus did the hen reward Beecher.

I promise, next time I do this, I will offer up a deeply meaningful, movingly profound poem by someone astonishingly brilliant and insightful. But in the deep gray days of winter, a bit of levity can be considered some kind of gift.