poime

bristlesage posts a poem to her journal just about daily, and magdalene1 rings in fairly regularly as well. I confess that despite my near-fetish for the printed word I have not cottoned on to poetry to any great extent, but I dip into these entries occasionally and find a surprise treat.

I've been reading to the Sprout at night from some of the old books I had when I was a kid, and this one is just too good to pass up:

( They've Put a Brassiere on the Camel, by Shel Silverstein )

So never let it be said that I don't try to kulcher it up around here. *farmer honk*