Poetry Sunday

Dorothy Parker was one of the most brilliant and pithy commentators ever to snarkily grace a page. A charter member of the famous Algonquin Round Table, she traded barbs with the best of them while churning out a huge amount of clever prose and poetry. 

Today's poem is typical Parker, and might be recited by a lot of disgruntled people today ...

Symptom Recital

by Dorothy Parker

I do not like my state of mind;

I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.

I hate my legs, I hate my hands, I do not yearn for lovelier lands.

I dread the dawn's recurrent light;

I hate to go to bed at night.

I snoot at simple, earnest folk.

I cannot take the gentlest joke.

I find no peace in paint or type.

My world is but a lot of tripe.

I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.

For what I think, I'd be arrested.

I am not sick, I am not well.

My quondam dreams are shot to hell.

My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;

I do not like me any more.

I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.

I ponder on the narrow house.

I shudder at the thought of men....

I'm due to fall in love again.

I was born too late, and in the wrong place, to ever have met Dorothy Parker, but the humorist and curmudgeon in me thinks I'd have liked her ...

I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.

I ponder on the narrow house.

Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo