As I lay about this morning starting the big weekly “Sunday” crossword puzzle (Washington Post 7-day subscribers get the ads and magazine with Merle Reagle’s weekly creation on Saturdays), I started wondering if there were any fun poems about crosswords out there and couldn’t even think of one. My brief search both online and in my anthologies didn’t produce much, in fact the paucity of odes to puzzles has me a bit sad. However, it was astounding how many crossword puzzles have poetry themes or are entirely devoted to poets and their works. I think it’s time poets stepped up and returned the love. I plan on working on one tomorrow for a post next week.
However, I did find one poem that works like a puzzle and is actually a lot of fun. See if you can find the hidden song within this cleaver poem.
Puzzle Poem
By Graeme King
I heard the thump and yelled out “D’oh!”
You’d think that a deer by now would know,
How many years have roads been there?
Still, a female deer for the pantry was rare.
Venison on the menu again, Hooray!
I imagined it with a drop of chardonnay.
Poached in a golden apricot sauce?
My son will call me a snob, of course.
A name that I hate, and he knows…
I call myself a gourmet. I suppose.
Far from a snob, I’m an average Joe,
I always seem to take it, I know,
Go along with his caustic wit
I really long to run away from it,
But to run would only ask for more
So I try a small needle in the jaw,
“The Lip” I call him, pulling a thread
of revenge, playing games with his head,
Although I can never go too far,
As he always calls me “Lah de Dah.”
Just because my wallet is blue
And always holds a C-note or two.
Following my inheritance it’s been so
Hard to show him I’m still a poor shmoe.
Every day, when it’s time for tea,
After a drink or two, to mellow me,
I argue with him, and try to jam
His signals – they charge me like a ram.
He’s a born and bred rebel, a one-way track
He’ll pick any subject that will bring us back
To the one place we always seem to go,
To tell the truth, I think he wants my dough.
2 comments:
D'oh a deer? A female deer?
I think Oscar Hammerstein will be rolling over in his grave.
I've always loved doing crosswords, but I'm more of a binge puzzler than a maintenance one. Now I'm in between binges. My substance of choice in this area is the NY Times puzzle, but the price of the paper has gone up to about $5 in this area for the Sunday one.
So I occasionally buy the compilations and go on my binges. . .
You got it!
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