15 hours since I started...

I sit still here and try to think,
All is silent, save for the clink
Of glass and glass shown on the tube;
Wine swirls, spills, becomes the Danube.
A news flash next: now what’s this?
Enlarged faces are hard to miss
Opp. let loose some icy shards
All aimed at a bunch of --retards?
Pardon the rhyming; duty calls:
Thoughts inside build up and fall.
Reminds me a lot of bubbling rootbeet
(though that thought is nowhere near
the real purpose of writing poems).
I now should be describing Romes
And Greeks; perhaps natural blubber:
Plants, animals, ducky-rubber
Ernie, Bert, Streets of Sesame,
Ali-Baba and the BUMblebee
(Haven’t heard that one, have you?
I haven’t either; was down with flu).
So disease aside, now I should
Really get going, though I would
Rather go slow at my own pace,
Then let good Snickett wipe the trace
Of unfortunate events before I
Was chased around Wilbur’s pig sty,
Caught in Charlotte’s Web, then rolled down
To Hobbiton, met Sauron’s frown,
Got booted out to great Bamarre
(Gondor is still fighting that war
as I sailed past from book to book:
Tolkien, open, Levine in the nook).
Then from Bamarre I landed in
The Belt-Maker and His Pretty Pin
Then pricked myself and went to sleep,
Got kissed by a frog and had to keep
Nabokov’s shadow of waxwing slain,
Five hundred lines down Memory Lane.
At the end of it all, Dream I met
(of Sandman fame), who then let
me have my heart’s desire —-wait...
wrong Endless, (am tired as of late).
It must have been Desire and
Brother Destiny with helping hand
Who stilled fire on icy brink-—
And found me here sitting still to think.

******************

Notes:

*Danube – isn’t that a river?
*Opp. – pronounced as is written (1 syllable)
*Bamarre: Taken from The Two Princesses of Bamarre, by Gail Carson Levine
*”Nabokov’s shadow…” – taken from the first line of Pale Fire: “I was the shadow of waxwing slain…”