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Jaap Van Den Born Poem
Chuzzlewit Chuzzlewit
Nicolas Nickleby
Pickwick, Scrooge, Dombey
And more of their kind
Two hundred years, filled with
Dickensiania
Real, just like you:
It is all in the mind
Copyright © Jaap Van Den Born | Year Posted 2012
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Jaap Van Den Born Poem
Though on the outside I look rather dull
I keep a secret deep down in my skull
I fool the world with common sense behaviour
Ha! No one knows that God lives here in Hull!
Copyright © Jaap Van Den Born | Year Posted 2012
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Jaap Van Den Born Poem
"Thy wit is quick and capable thy rhyme
Conversant with my heart art thou and sly
Thou giveth words where I have never spoken
I swear against the truth so foul a lie
For pride and reputation hath thou token
My beauty's pattern idly sold to men
My Spirit, qui'tly dreaming, now awoken
Cries: 'Draw no lines there, with thy antique pen
Sir, I forbid thee this most heinous crime!
Though people see thee fair and thought thee bright
Thy art is black as hell, as dark as night!"
William Shakespeare (by ouija-board), commenting upon the work of 18 year old William Ireland who, in 1794, forged a great number of Shakepeare parafernalia, including a complete play; 'Vortigern and Rowena'.
This elegant form, called 'eleven', or 'onzine' was developed by the Dutch light verse poet 'Drs. P' (real name Heinz Polzer, born in 1919 and still going strong).
Rhyme scheme: abc bcd cda ee. The lines are usually in iambic pentameters.
a and b end with a stressed syllable, c with an unstressed one.
Copyright © Jaap Van Den Born | Year Posted 2012
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Jaap Van Den Born Poem
'For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings*
By flu or common cold or treach'rous reason
O sacred blood, spoil'd by these nasty things
With sharpen'd points in envy hands of treason
High stomac'd are my foes, and full of ire!
Alas, my friends, it is the hunting season
In rage deaf of my plea, hasty on fire
I hear the Congress' howling, barking sound!
I am disgrac'd, impeach'd and baffled here
Purc'd to the soul with slanders venom'd spear!'
*The tragedy of king Richard the second; act III, scene
This form is an 'eleven'. See my other poem 'Image'.
Copyright © Jaap Van Den Born | Year Posted 2012
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