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Jan Sand

(February 2 1926 / USA)

Poetic Justice

In the world of wizards
Where words can sizzle, freeze;
Where chance remarks
Can bring down larks
And throw you to your knees,
There lived a crazy lady
Who had but one delight.
She’d spend all night
By candle light
To work up magic cheese.
One slice of this
Could make you kiss
A dog on his cold nose.
A tiny bit would make your spit
Run down between your toes.
Now, in this world, there lived a mouse
Both clever and devoted.
She had a house which she would douse
With love, because she doted
On her one kid, whose name was Sid,
A dreaming, quiet, poet.
He delighted her in all he did.
But, of course, you’d know it.
She knew about the witch’s cheese
And never ventured near it.
But her kid, Sid, would stroll amid
Some areas most chancy.
He’d shut his eyes for to surmise
His rhymes and rhythms, fancy.
There came a day, his enterprise
Had clouded up his mind.
He’d walked in thought, his eyes turned in.
He’d might as well been blind.
But when his senses did begin
To make him more aware,
The smell of cheese came on the breeze,
And for cheese he most did care.
This terrible magic disease
Which gave his mom a scare.
Waking in the witch’s kitchen
Upon a middle shelf
Where odors fine, did enrichen
Delight in life itself.
Sid grabbed a chunk and broke it off,
All set to gobble down
When his mother shrieked “Dumkopf! ”
With thunder in her frown.
The witch had gaped in funk.
What would happen to the poet?
But startled Sid had tossed his chunk
And, would you ever know it?
It landed with an awful “plunk”
Into the witch’s gullet.
In a flash, she’d swallowed it.
She’d had no spell to null it.
Now poet Sid did benefit.
He does the poet rounds,
While the witch,
She’s got the itch
For smelling after hounds.

Submitted: Sunday, May 19, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 11, 2013

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