Welcome to Poetry Friday. I’ve had a busy week this week, including a lovely visit to Helena College in Darlington, my first school visit for the term. The year ones and twos were very curious when I told them I was officially Doctor Murphy, and amused when I told them I’m a Doctor of Poetry (weeeeell, it’s complicated to explain that I’m technically a Doctor of Philosophy, but that my topic was children’s poetry). The rest of the week I’ve been busy with my university job and also preparing for my upcoming trip to Vietnam.
In all this busyness, I wasn’t quite sure what I would share for Poetry Friday. But, as often happens, a poem idea presented itself to me, this time as I muttered to myself about yet another misplaced apostrophe on a sign I read. As I muttered and grumbled to myself – and wished I could reach the sign to correct it – I realised that there was a poem just waiting to be written. So, instead of defacing the sign, I came home and drafted this little offering. I do feel better now, but can’t vow not to keep apostrophising (or de-apostrophising) when the need arises.
She could never ever stand to see
A misplaced, misused apostrophe.
Hanging somewhere that it shouldn’t
Trying to do that which it couldn’t
To see this item thus abused
By a punctuator so confused
Left her feeling rather sad
Or, oftentimes, a little mad
Her editing hand would start to itch
An overwhelming symptom which
Would see her reaching for a pen
And correcting errors again and again
On pamphlets, posters, leaflets, signs
Anything with errors in its lines
In menus, notes home, emails, books
Not caring if she garnered looks
From embarrassed kids, or passers by
Or angry owners who wondered why
She couldn’t let the errors rest
Instead of fixing them with zest
But her red pen was always ready
Her apostrophising hand ever steady
Ridding the world, one at a time
Of dastardly apostrophe crime.
(Copyright Sally Murphy, 2018)
Today’s Poetry Friday roundup is at Reading to the Core, where you will find links to lots of other poetry goodness.