On the doleful prospect of devoting an ode to a screwdriver
Vague words lead poets to heady heights far yonder
If we, like Wordsworth, seek a path to’ wander.’
But words there are whose power is less prolific,
Dwindling fast the more they are specific.
Sententious and meaningful are rhymes
Which great poets have utilized at times
as when a line whose somber end is ‘womb’
finds in the next one that ends with ‘tomb.’
Or when a line that sadly ends with ‘death’
Is cheered next line with ‘heaven’s living breath.’
Poetry, they claim, is vast and universal,
But entry to it so often meets reversal.
Screwdrivers ,it seems, have failed, to join the race
What cruel fate has offered them no grace?
‘Appetizer,’ ‘sliver’ and - oh yes- ‘scuba diver’
Bring little help the shunned screwdriver.
Can rhyming slang yet save the day?
Let’s ask a Cockney on the way.
“Sorry, mate, I don’t know neiver.”
If there’s a will, then there’s a way,
An optimist will tend to say.
Is there answer? No chance ismissed,
If we give the ode just one more twist.
Copyright © Julian Scutts | Year Posted 2019
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