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Next Stop, Stockholm!
LH ( / London)

Next Stop, Stockholm!

Poem By Linda Hepner

On to Stockholm you will go,
I will write your thank you speech,
You will read it, you will glow,
Such humility! A peach
Could not be fuzzier or pink
Than your self effacing smile,
That's what all the fans will think,
With your tears of crocodile
And your thanks to mum and dad
And your agent and your wife
And your chambermaid who had
Bits of you on fork and knife
Just the night before the show,
Reading her a dirty verse,
You went fast and she went slow
She was cute and you were terse
But you read it just in time,
Then the valet of the king
Knocking on the terza rhyme:
'Please Sir, time for prize, please bring
Brightest smile and modest look,
Autograph and photo opp,
And you'll sell your poem book,
So komm mit mir, hep hep, hop hop! '
Off you trot with polished shoes
Bow tie and a cummerband,
Spectacles and Stockholm News
To impress the Nobel land.
They all stand, applaud and say,
Here's the genius who writes
Ten poems every single day
About the world; his witty bites
Don't upset us one small bit,
We are proud to have him here,
He'll behave - a bit - and sit
Like a good boy, never fear.
Then you look around and shout,
'Every pretty dame and dyke
Stays, the others can get out! '
Quick, the ushers seize the mike
And usher you into the street
Where a lonesome taxi cab
Splashes you from chin to feet
And a big dog, think a Lab,
Licks your nose and nicely whines
To a Bruno Magli toe
Who prods and gives some friendly signs
'Ja! ' she says 'Komm op! Let's gogh! '

If your life is on the rocks,
Here's the antidote: a rhyme;
Think yourself outside the box -
Doesn't cost more than a dime.
You might get yourself a fan,
Giving speeches in Hyde Park,
Getting prizes down in Cannes......
Life's a breeze, a seal bark.

LRH
3.3.05

User Rating: 4,8 / 5 ( 3 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

OUCH! This poem does not take any prisoners. You puncture one of the sacred balloons of the 20th-21st centuries. It's not so much the institution and the choices it makes. It is the corruption of self-serving media hype which infects all media that cheapens the award. But when you read the speeches of recipients you can still see the shining vision behind the award. Faulkner identified as his essential theme THE HUMAN HEART IN CONFLICT WITH ITSELF - that's wonderful. Octavio Paz said in 1990: THE PRESENT IS ALTERNATELY LUMINOUS AND SOMBER, LIKE A SPHERE THAT UNITES THE TWO HALVES OF ACTION AND CONTEMPLATION... THE POETIC EXPERIENCE IS A FOUNDATION FOR A PHILOSOPHY OF THE PRESENT. Excelsior! !
I laugh to see back then I included a ref to James Thurber's cartoon I thought I heard a seal bark - it's been a long time, James, and The New Yorker's not the same without you!


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