Lost Fork Turns Up In The Jug Poem by Dónall Dempsey
Lost Fork Turns Up In The Jug
I couldn’t understand
school
... couldn’t get the hang of it.
I was a bit...backward.
Couldn’t spell Mississippi
to save my life.
Tripped up over all those s’s...how many p’s?
Always terrified
Satan would emerge in a sheet of sulphuric flame:
“Can’t spell Mississippi...ha! ”
and drag me down to Hell.
Why did anyone want to spell Mississippi for?
But I could spell it
(sdrawkcab)
...backwards.
Ip-pis-sis-sim!
Or my name
even
Llanod Yespmed.
I could dream...
but they never taught us to in school
Just boring stuff
like you should never ever
split an infinitive
(like why...would you die)
or
that 1 & 1
is always
2
... when I knew that wasn’t always
true!
(for Miss Treat)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 12:27:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
How very funny and lovely, and Mississippi is spelled: M i CROOKED LETTER, CROOKED LETTER, i CROOKED LETTER, CROOKED LETTER, i HUMPBACK, HUMPBACK i ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! And that is how you remember to spell M i SS i SS i PP i TTELRACS TAERT, HTiW EVOL