I found this little poem on a blog called by Fibromy-Awesome, written by a charming and intelligent young lady called Mary Gelpi who is currently struck down by a bunch of crappy medical problems that she refuses to allow to defeat her.
I find reading her blog thoroughly uplifting, sometimes bringing me close to tears, occasionally very funny, and always well written. Many others agree, and I commend it to you.
Anyhow, while reading her stuff today I happened on some of her poetry, and as you will know, Dear Reader, I am something of a scribbler of rhyming couplets myself, and this one actually both moved me and made me guffaw simultaneously, which is a rare trick.
I don’t think I would have written it quite this way, but show me a poet who wouldn’t change something about what someone else has written and I will show you a poet bereft of passion and dying.
It’s sharp, and genuinely witty. Enjoy.
There are two things people ask you
When they meet you for the first time.
What is your name?
What is it that you do?
I dislike these questions
They don’t actually reveal too much
about who we are.
Our name says something about our parents.
Our job says something about the world.
I have my grandmothers name
And now I’m unemployed.
Should we keep talking?
PS I am always glad to publish poems submitted to the blog provided they’re not, you know – how does one put this – utter crap*? Just email them to me at email@example.com.
*Nota bene – utter crap of course means “I didn’t like it”. Everyone’s a critic, right?