Verbivores Poem by gershon hepner

Life’s herbivores who live on herbs
resemble me: I live on verbs,
and each one is a greater treat
than any fish or fowl or meat.
I also strive to be a noun,
a poet of immense renown.
Towards the poets whom I rival
my expletives are adjectival,
to tell them that they’ve been bettered
by my words that are just four-lettered.
I throw them, overripe tomatoes,
while hoping they are hot potatoes,
although the fact that they’ve been uttered
by me means that they have been buttered.
The rest of this I will keep censored,
since honi soit qui mal y pensa’d.

Inspired what Steven Pinker writes about verbs in “The Stuff of Thought” (Penguin,2007,24) :

It isn’t surprising that language supplied so many of the hot potatoes of our public and private life. We are verbivores, a species that lives on words, and the meaning and use of language are bound to be among the major things we ponder, share and dispute.


11/26/08