January 10, 2004
The Lemming Poetry Club
Little fuzzy rodent
Floating gently with the tide,
When you approached the cliff
You should have watched your stride.
We should bombard them with new material.
Anybody got any good lemming sonnets?
The wonderful concrete poem by John H. Chandler gets my vote!
Simiously, forks, I gave it a try:
A poem, you say?
Without humming or hemming,
In every cup of tea
I squeeze a little lemming.
How did the lemming survive?
Why is he still alive?
Must be 'cause the litttle fella
got himself an umbrella.
The problems of the lemming,
They seem to be stemming
From the deadly kiss
Of a precipice;
For when they reach the summit...
That's when they plummet.
I wandered gently as a lem,
Saw stars and skies, a diadem,
But now I ask but one small thing--
Is three a crowd for a lemming?
Lemmings are Brown,
Delightfully Furry,
After they're Dead,
Make Wonderful Curry.
Splatter and Spackle,
Rainbows of Blood,
Cottontailed Nimbus,
Asleep in the Mud,
Visions of Heaven
Fly Higher and Higher,
Isn't it Better
To lose that Spare Tire?
Lemming, Lemming, Furry Blight,
In the Sewers of the Night,
What Immortality Could you Gain
If You'd only take the Train.
diz: nice!
In seas of misery lemmings drown,
While the salmon spawns and dies --
And every time I think of them
I dab at both my bloodshot eyes.
This is not even new news.
Pursued by puns,
The lemming runs
Away from the cliff,
Laughs at us all,
Refuses to fall,
And says "What's the dif?
Men want us to fail,
But we will prevail.
We're looking for quiff.
(I backed myself into that one.)
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the tailpipes
Of lonely men in shirtsleeves, stalled in traffic?...
I should have been a horde of stubby tails
Hurtling off the edge of icy cliffs.
A lemming should be fluffable and cute,
As a mohair suit.
Numb
As baby bunnies to the thumb.
Silent as the now-cold toddy
That makes up your soggy body.
A lemming should be wordless
Because we've all gone back on our meds.
(Apologies to Archie MacLeish!)
Roughly I spoke to the queens of the earth,
Wandering loose-skirt in the leaf-down wood,
"What mere memorial is theirs?
Why not raw-carved headstones?"
At this, the ghosts of lemmings cheered and chewed.
Ars lemmorum.
I like the concrete poem, too. Were we to arrange it for Shockwave Flash and orchestra, it would go something like this:
lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming
lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming
moss tuft, moss tuft
lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming
lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming
moss tuft, moss tuft
lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming
lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming lemming
CLIFF!! CLIFF!! oh, it's a cliff....
d. c. ad infinitum
I witness an army charging upon the air,
A whoosh and swoop of lemmings plunging, foam collaring their necks;
Arrogant, in macintoshes, behind them stand,
Disdaining the rain, with brollies inside out, the grim accountants.
Beeswacky:
That was so bootiful I could cry!
A humble contribution, but mine own:
Lemming, Lemming, sphincter tight
Over the ledge, into the night
What rodental quirk was this
That plunged him into the abyss?
In what distant deeps he lies
XX now glazing his beady eyes?
On what wings did he dare aspire?
You said he could fly? You dirty liar!
Humble? Bah! 'Twas very good, BlueHorse!
Let this be the ditty you mumble for me,
Here a lemming lies where he wished to be,
Frozen stiff in the salty cold sea,
With an ice-cube still in his gob.
Lemming evolution
led to a revolution,
the world is now brimming
with lemming
that go swimming
An aged lemming is a paltry thing! --
Like tattered salmon on a plate no more to sing,
I am accustomed to their lack of breath.
Does the imagination dwell the most
Upon the lemming wooed or lemming lost?
(Strange, but the clown who made this song is deaf.)
beeswacky:
You old flatterer! *simpers*
It's all your fault I've gone from bad to verse:
I saw lemmings pursuing the horizon;
Over and over they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted a lemming.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never"--
"I'll FLY," he cried,
And jumped off.
WAIT
Didn't Sandburg do a lemming poem?
Why did the lemmings
jump over the cliff
when the one thing we told the lemmings
they must not do
was jump over the cliff?
ummmm, maybe not
Jan 25 is Rabbie Burns birthday. So who's going to do "To a Lemming" in his honor?
(BlueHorse, were you thinking of:
The lemming creeps in
On lily calves' feet...?)
This morning the birches leaf
and fresh sprigs tinge the tundra
as overland lemmings keep ranking
in a thick dark strea
that does not seem to be clotting...
O Lemming, Lemming, flailing, flinging on,
Fall past me, hard upon the shingled shore...
*sigh*
For 'strea' please read 'stream'.
Looks like this thread's about deceased.
In the spirit of kicking the near-corpse to elicit a groan, I submit two stinkers:
Over the cliff the lemming goes
And why he did it, no one knows
He didn’t tell of his lemming woes
And now at the bottom he will repose.
The lemmings didn't have to roam
They were snug and warm and cozy
Did we MoFi’s drive them far from home
With our bad lemming poesy?
Last. Word.
Very nice, ya'll.
On behalf of the lemmings, I thank you very much.
Lemmings do not fear a swift misstep
From the edge of a nearest cliff.
No. But dread of a long slip and slow slide --
This has lemmings terrified.
For their small lives are shed
Fast as drunken oysters snoring in an oysterbed.
Let it be, o lemming, as you plummet
like any untorched comet--
unstayed, all brown and sere as grief
once autumn follows summer's brief --
as paper crumpled on the hearth
must breathless wait a stricken match
before some fiery lemming-phoenix hatch.
Lemmings walking across the floor
as they pour out the door
A climber scouts
while a blocker pouts
eventually the blocker knows
the climber will be digging holes
while he oh loyal traffic cop
will be cleaned up with a mop
lemmings, we're told, all jump to their death,
and into a watery grave, oh boy;
some advocate this to their dying breath,
the image is used to sell games, or toys.
but biologists claim that this is absurd,
though populations do often soar;
a feast of fine lemming for fox or for bird,
'til we have surplus lemmings no more.
a pattern of overabundance, you say?
yes, it occurs in the field;
a typical cycle of predator-prey,
as lotka-volterra revealed.
so don't weep for the lemming; you have my word
that this misperception is cinema's fault;
one more reason to flip disney the bird;
as snopes puts the blame all on walt.
thank you, thank you. please hold the applause for the encore.
This thread is a great relief for me ...
click this link so you can see
how losing an e
and gaining an m
could cause childhood misery
But now I know it's down to Walt ...
and all that teasing was his fault ...
I feel so much better
but I still can't write poetry
Loose an E and gain an M --
The pensive dean becomes a damn.
Whoosh! Plop! Into the sea,
Lemmings were born to be free!
No matter what fate -- or gravity --brings
All lemmings are safe who wear water wings!
The theory that lemmings rush to the sea with intent to drown gets the axe,
But so what if it's all the fault of a ruthless photog who didn't want to muddle folk with facts,
But since poets go for myth as much as mush or moonbeams or even monkeyshine,
Celebrating the false suicidal life-and-death-dash of lemmings in rhyme will be just fine.
Lemming, laggard lemming,
(Am we akin to you?)
Stop this hawing and hemming --
Hop right to it,
Leave the cliff
And salt your suet!
Better than when the swallows come back to Capistrano ... the lemmings return!
I'll be damned! Looks like the old posts are back!
"Ye are Grandfather Lemming," the youngling said,
"and your hair has become worn and short;
while your sons drop off ledges and honour your pledges,
you never did do as you ought."
Aah, bees!
Actually, I read that last line as
you never did do as you ourt
and I likes it that way.
Which reminds me, some of your misspellings have been works of genius. Fear them not!
A Short Lemming Pome
Over the cliff
Off the top
Down go the lemmings
Till they go plop
2005 needs more lemmings!
Heh, that's the only reasonable way to pronounce it, I think, too, BlueHorse.
Pour all the contents out into the sea,
Shark end, not Turbot is heaven for me,
Half-chilled with iceberg topped with a herring,
Serve garnished with monkfish and one twist of Lemming.
Neither lemming-ade nor lemming aid can save them now.
Yes, Bees, my ol granny used to say, "When life gives you lemmings, make lemming-ade." But when I'd squeeze their furry little bodies, all that would result was whine.
Aaaaargh!!!
*jumps off cliff*
*follows*
*tucks into lemming meringue*
Strange, how men marvel from afar
at how insane these rodents are,
and yet such men may drive and die
in many a speeding motorcar.
The Quest
High, hollowed in green
above the rocks of reason
lies the crater lake
whose ice the dreamer breaks
to find a summer season.
'He will plunge like a plummet down
far into hungry tides'
they cry, but as the sea
climbs to a lunar magnet
so the dreamer pursues
the lake where love resides.
--Denise Levertov
One of my daughter's friends jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge on Sunday. She did "plunge like a plummet down, far into the angry tides". And she died. She left behind a husband, who was younger than she, and parents who are blaming him for her death. I don't think they're right, but the fall out is that everyone is hurting even more than her death might have if she had succombed to some disease or other.
I suspect many of us have contemplated suicide at least once in our lives. The one time I did, seriously, I backed off because I couldn't bear to have my family have to clean up after I'd done it. I've heard others say that they didn't consider the feelings of the survivors when thinking about offing themselves because they felt that their lives were worthless and no one would care.
So, what is suicide? Is it protest, or drama, or just taking care of business? These may be stupid questions, but...
Lemmings of legend run in a mob
and throw themselves into the sea,
but I think even lemmings, like troubled men,
find they die one by one and singly.
I doubt there's one answer could cover all cases --
not for men nor for lemmings -- makung their final choices.
Help: I'm sorry to hear that.
As for what suicide is, I think it has as many reasons as there are people. Mostly, it's a lonely act and a selfish one. Sometimes it's rational, and a way to escape a horrible death like cancer. Mostly it's irrational, and comes out of great emotional pain. I don't know if there can be a true explaination.
I know when I attempted, I couldn't even leave a note. There was nothing to say. Fortunately, it didn't take, and I got a cool helicopter ride. I guess when the gods throw you back, you better not waste their gift.
Ah, dear BlueHorse, speaking for myself, I'm so glad ye didn't leave us.
People possess things
that are no good at sea:
anchor, rudder, oars
and the fear of going down.
--Antonio Machado y Ruiz, trans Robert Bly
=People possess four things
The curlew trills the knell of parting day,
The lemming horde glides slyly towards the sea,
As terms and guillemots cry welladay,
They leave all shedding of salt tears to me.
Beeswacky sheds a salty tear
It's only crocodile, so I fear
But lemmings come, and lemmings go
And Bees relates a tale of woe
That certainly isn't quite sincere
He's only crying in his beer
Heh.
In his tea, today. Though I can entertain hope of more potent if not poetic tipple.
MONKEYFILTER ON DUBS OR ON TWENTIES IN EITHER CASE IN A DROP TOP
*dons zoot suit with reat pleats while moths rise in a cloud about his head*
o tell me, lemming by the sea
are you as unsurprised as we
how many people never know
when a hurricane's prepared to blow?
lemmings in legend
these lemmings' lives were modest
filled with their small concerns --
getting and eating each lemming learns
isn't all of life, but is deemed best
to concentrate upon, before the Journey West
then, mad-dashing and tumbling down to the sea
and each lemming squeaking "Me! Me! Let me!"
their numbers rise as lemming breed
and everyone is crowded --"More room is what we need!"
And then they go mad, see their only solution'
is to cooly plunge into into the northern ocean
Uncle Walt produced a doc
that surely proved to be a crock
Unthinking beasts in herds of tens
Pushed by pragmatic cameramen
Plunged seaward toward the ocean's roar
For the sake of Human Metaphor
Poor wet little murdered guys.
They died so we could rationalize.
))) to ye, maryh !!!
Have a banana!
Don't hush, little lemming!
We've not had enough
of your hawing and hemming.
The best is yet to be.
We won't forget
or think you afraid
to get your feet wet.
We'd rather you hung around
and skipped this dipping in the sea
Forget the cliff, forget the plunge,
and just inspire more poetry.
I'm amazed and astounded
That this thread has rebounded
and attracted a great monkey throng.
But my threadtrek needs tending
though it seems neverending
So I bid you fair monkeys, "so long!"
This one was fun, a non-haiku poetry thread -- where BlueHorse first revealed her bent for poetry.
They're not white birds,
there's no swan-song --
a last ker-plunk
and then they're gone.
Or that is how
the legend goes
of lemmings who must
drown their woes.
Lemmings don't know this,
they're largely untaught --
some years they've lots to eat,
and some years not.
**blushes**
**curtsies**
Why, thank you, Bees.
You are quite gallant.
Your words are honey.
I've little talent.
A master's touch,
You do have truly.
Your words are gentle
and not unruly.
Why do the lemmings jump into the sea?
Is lemming life so futile, so unkind?
Relax, sweet little lemmings! Chill! Unwind!
Don't end your lemming life in tragedy!
Or is there something else we just don't see?
The existential thoughts of lemming mind
That human hearts can never hope to find:
The secret of your dread philosophy.
We do not understand why you must go,
But lemmings have no room for doubt, or fear.
Dear lemmings - be at peace 'neath sea and foam,
We would not share your fate, nor ever know
The silent call: beyond the human ear;
The inner lemming voice that calls you home.
**tosses confooti**
))), mothninja!!!
Wow, moth! That's the best lemming sonnet I've ever read!
Lemmings of legend
got easily bored,
each one thinking:
So dull! it's horrid!
The same old moss and same old snow
and never anywhere new to go!
Their lives were litanies of complaint.
And so they took the plunge. And now they ain't.
Steamed Lemming with Sauce
by Christine L. Santos and Patrick I. White
(tastes like chicken!)
Serves 4
Find a herd of Lemmings.
Set a trap at the edge of a cliff.
Stampede the dinner into it.
Discard the old, sick and damaged ones.
Gather the rest into a large basket.
Skin the lemmings and remove the heads, save these for the gravy.
Marinade the Lemmings overnight in a mixture of 3 gal. cooking sherry, 1 lb. garlic powder and salt & pepper to taste.
Boil 5 gal. water in a large pot.
Steam the Lemmings in a large bamboo steamer with carrots, asparagus and baby onions for 3 hours.
Make your sauce in a side pot. We recommend Pesto, Alfredo or a nice Marinara sauce.
Serve on a bed of wild rice.
Bon appeit!
(Again with the recipes!)
Serve with Lemming-ade.
Lemming abuse!
This is terrible news
if you are a lemming
and tired of swimming.
Lemmings hate swimming
in cold water
this is nothing new.
But lemmings hate swimming
in hot water,
because then they're easily stew.
lemming avoid swimming
in soapy water
and salty water too
but so does the ocelot
the orangutan the vole
and the bounding kangaroo
lemmings avoid the fire
they do not like the heat
overcrowding drives 'em crazy
'cause there's not enough to eat
lemmingwise
ah, they're creatures of legend
not reality
these lemmings allegedly
drowned in the sea
their lives are quite simple
there's not much to do
except to find edibles
and chew them ... and chew
avoiding the fox
and the hungry white owl
and any other hunter
with motive to prowl
when verdure's abundant
lemmings multiply madly
like all critters that creep
or make poems badly
when lemmings are many
next season sees more
and so on and so forth
until comes the horror
once they grow so many
they run out of food
why, lemmings then starve
as you or I would
This one's for Bees:
A cooking poem (with lemmings)
By the "Commander"
Dachsund slice.
Take one Dachsund, elongated,
(Check to see it's use-by-dated).
Grate the nose into a dish
And add a shoal or two of fish.
Mix together, adding lice,
Or failing that, some fleas are nice.
Add some bees and worms to taste,
Or if you fancy, Lemming paste.
Squash the body (use a brick
'cos otherwise it's much too thick).
Slice and fry in Lion juice,
(At Christmas time use juice of Goose).
Remove from flame and stir the pot
But please make sure the Dog is hot.
Serve upon a Wilderbeast;
What a tasty canine feast!
NOOO!!! NAAYYYY!!!! NEVER add BEES to taste!!!
so softly they tread
those tiny lemming feet
amid the long hush of evening
and eventual defeat
legend would have it
lemming die
with appalling
facility
but in reality
removed from mythic shores
lemmings eat and breed
and fold those tiny paws
while on their sprawling
backs they snore
Beautiful, bees!
My lemming pal, where are you going?
My lemming pal, where are you going?
My lemming pal, where are you going?
My lemming pal, where are you going?
My lemming pal,
where are you going?
My lemming pal,
where are
you going?
My lemming
pal,
where
are you going?
My lemming
pal,
where
are you
going?
No
wait
come
back!
splat
the facts
lemmings dive
as ye may see
into their chow but
not the sea
first they eat
and then they breed
these rodents flourish
while they feed
but after all their food
runs out then lemmings die
without a doubt
The lemmings marched in, two by two
to say, 'You must write something new!'
I told them no, this could not be,
'Legend demands ye drown in the sea!'
But there was just no reasoning with them.
They all went on strike, refusing to lem.
'tis better to have have lemmed and leapt than never to have lemmed at all.
Hymn for Lemming Aid (Sung to the grand old tune of "The Red Flag")
(Unknown)
1. The lemmings" fate it haunts us yet,
In these dark days could we forget
That they in deep despair do bide
And drown their hopes in suicide.
2. Upon the tundra long ago,
A lemming tree stood in the snow
Where every five years at its roots
The lemmings held their lemming moots.
3. But oh to tell the saga sad
The tree was felled by men so bad
And every lemming far and near
Drowned itself in grief and fear.
Chorus (after each verse)
We raise our lemming banner high
Without our help they still might die
Though men may rant and men may rave
Perforce their fate we still may waive.
To finish the dirge rightly it is customary to chant the haunting refrain known long ago in the book of lemming folklore as "The Lay of the Last Lemming" which they all sing as they fling themselves into the cold North Sea.
It is passed down to us, corrupted by the years as "Lemon Tree".
Lemming tree very pretty
And the lemming flower is sweet
But alas for the poor lemmings
No longer can they meet.
***Finis***
Voices were raised in the worthwhile cause of Lemming Aid in Toorak Village, Australia. This "Save the Lemmings" march was organised by the Goon Club at Melbourne.
UP THE LEMMINGS!
No.
But, and by all means, hurray for The Goon Club of Melbourne!
grumpy lemmings reciprocate
by raising money for some feckless cause
such as the Society for the Prevention
of Melbourne, Oz [SPOGMO]
A Goony Lemming is worth three
Of them which jump into the sea
Though finding some is difficult
Without the aid of catapult
Yay!!! Where ye been, laddie?
*throws arms around Petebest, sobbing and smiling
*waves to petes*
lemmings tunnel undersnow
and munch the stuff that grows below
they don't live in lemming packs or a herd
and as for mass suicide, that myth's absurd
because if lemmings really intended
to do themselves in
they'd simply light a cigarette
and suck that nicotine deep in
... lemming tree very pretty
and the lemming flour's sweet ...
... but the snoot of the poor lemming
smells poorly, smells of feet.
few things smell sae sweet
as a lemmings' wee feet
and the world wad be poorer
if lemmings were fewer
Lemming raw
Develops the jaw
But lemming stewed
Is more quietly chewed
With apologies to Ogden Nash
This thread is AWESOME! I only just found it today, and something about being on massive quantities of migraine medication made me bold enough to post
Ahhhh, it warms the cockles of my heart to think there's folks shuffling around in the archives.
Wait! Those are our archives. Who knows what they'll find there???
STOP! Geddoutta those archives!
OK Speedlime. Just drop the lemmings and back away slowly.
Oh, yea. Leave the poem. It's great.
*drops poem and backs up slowly*
No, no, that's NOT a lemming poking out of my handbag. Really! It's a weasel! For real... The last time I went to Ikea, they had PLUSH WEASELS. How awesome is that? I bought three of them.
"I'm sorry but we're going to have to confiscate the weasel" was the best pickup line I ever heard.
Or wanted to, anyway.
Did you really fall for that old one, Pete?
Sheesh. You'd hook up with any kind of fuzzy lover, wouldn't you?
a lover of fuzz
my sweet lemming was
but I all of a sudden can't find him
he's followed his feet
to where sky and sea meet
and left my heart broken behind him
softly as lemming lurks
under the snow crust
sharper than ears
of the arctic fox
lemming shall do
what lemming must
feeding and breeding
both go on trust
welcome a new year
never will lemming fear
the depth of the sea
or the crack in the cliff
welcome a new charade
with marvels surpassing
unneeded lemming aid
and scarcely a what-if
lemmings crowd in darkness now
for in the north the sun is sunk
young lemmings think daylight's a myth
but does it matter what they thunk
who haven't much to ponder with?
for a lemming's but a tiny beast
to fox and owl a snack not feast
<karma>Comment 5168 above is what compelled me to love you, too, BlueHorse with a flair for poetry. Decided to hang around a while longer, way back when, bee cause of it.</karma>
;]
The Lemmings
by John Masefield (1878-1967)
written in 1916
Once in a hundred years the Lemmings come
Westward, in search of food, over the snow;
Westward until the salt sea drowns them dumb;
Westward, till all are drowned, those Lemmings go.
Once, it is thought, there was a westward land
Now drowned where there was food for those starved things,
And memory of the place has burnt its brand
In the little brains of all the Lemming Kings.
Perhaps, long since, there was a land beyond
Westward from death, some city, some calm place
Where one could taste God's quiet and be fond
With the little beauty of a human face;
But now the land is drowned. Yet we still press
Westward, in search, to death, to nothingness.
(Just think how long this thread would be if the intarwebs had been around in 1916)
lemming lemming
on the cliff
ye have become
a thing of myth
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