Friday, April 24, 2009

It doesn't ALWAYS have to be desolate, yearning.

This one has always tickled me.

"Very Like a Whale"

One thing that literature would be greatly the better for

Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and

Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts,

Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to
go out of their way to say that it is like something else.

What does it mean when we are told

That that Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold?

In the first place, George Gordon Byron had enough experience

To know that it probably wasn't just one Assyrian, it was a lot of

However, as too many arguments are apt to induce apoplexy and
thus hinder longevity,

We'll let it pass as one Assyrian for the sake of brevity.

Now then, this particular Assyrian, the one whose cohorts were
gleaming in purple and gold,

Just what does the poet mean when he says he came down like a
wolf on the fold?

In heaven and earth more than is dreamed of in our philosophy
there are great many things.

But I don't imagine that among them there is a wolf with purple
and gold cohorts or purple and gold anythings.

No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was
actually like a wolf I must have some kind of proof;

Did he run on all fours and did he have a hairy tail and a big red
mouth and big white teeth and did he say Woof Woof?

Frankly I think it is very unlikely, and all you were entitled to say,
at the very most,

Was that the Assyrian cohorts came down like a lot of Assyrian
cohorts about to destroy the Hebrew host.

But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he
had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them,

With the result that whenever you mention Old Testament soldiers
to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of
wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.

That's the kind of thing that's being done all the time by poets,
from Homer to Tennyson;

They're always comparing ladies to lilies and veal to venison,

And they always say things like that the snow is a white blanket
after a winter storm.

Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of
snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical
blanket material and we'll see which one keeps warm,

And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly

What I mean by too much metaphor and simile.

--Ogden Nash


Dr. Write said...

Brilliant! It reminds me of the comment about Sherman Alexie's poem (I'm not sure which one), which is about how his parents died in a fire and which some critic said was "a symbol." A friend commented, "I'm sorry your parents were killed by a symbol."
Sometimes a fire is just a fire.
Thanks for sharing this poem!

Moria said...

"it was a lot of Assyrians" and my sweet tea is in my nose.


Renaissance Girl said...

My nose-moment is the rhyme to "interpolate them."

Fretful Porpentine said...

This. Is. Brilliant. Best poem ever.

Lisa B. said...

DEEEEEEllightful. I just love when he has a super long line and then returns, matter-of-factly to the shorter ones. And rhyming Tennyson with venison.

Anonymous said...

That was terrifically funny. I particularly liked the last 4-5 lines. :)