Frosty the Poet
Stuart Anderson and Nancy Lee
Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest 2011 (view all the winners)
Honorable Mention
Frosty the Poet
Was a stern New England soul.
California kid, but he kept it hid—
He preferred the Yankee role.
Frosty the Poet
Was so sensitive inside,
He could watch it snow at ten below
Till his horse lay down and died.
He went away to England in
A high unpublished huff.
He had to hound old Ezra Pound
Until he'd print his stuff.
Frosty the Poet
Said your rhymes should not be dense—
If your words all plod like you're just some clod
Then you have the Sound Of Sense.
Frosty the Poet
Was a poet of the earth.
If it's not a stump or a dampish lump
It has no aesthetic worth.
As he walked through a dismal slough
He spied a cord of wood.
He wrote a poem so he could show 'em
Boring stuff is good.
Frosty the Poet
Thought a fellow needs a wall
With some decent grout to keep nature out,
And humanity, and all.
Frosty the Poet
Picked more apples than would keep,
Then he wrote some verse that was so darn terse
It would bore woodchucks to sleep.
There must have been some magic in
That road he never took—
It's in every anthology
And junior high yearbook.
Frosty the Poet
Was versed in country things.
With his uncle's bucks, he could farm for yucks,
And the good PR it brings.
Rumpety tump tump rumpety tump tump
Writing verse that scans
Rumpety tump tump rumpety tump
Beats working with your hands!
