"The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean; not to affect your reader, but to affect him precisely as you wish." ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

The Grounding of T. S. Eliot

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like the unwashed dishes still upon the table;
Let us go find certain half-completed chores
That happen to be yours.
Oh, do not say, "Whatever."
You are not so very clever.
I have said it all already, said it all,
I have seen you playing X-box hours on hours,
And I have seen your clothes upon the floor after long showers,
And in short, you are a slob.
No! I am not your housemaid, nor was meant to be.
If you go to meet your friends-- if you dare ask for the car--
You will hear your father's yelling, worse by far.
I do not think you're listening to me.

~ Tamary Shoemaker
(From a prompt at NaPoWriMo to use a line from another poem as your first line. The first poem I thought of was The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, which I memorized in college and still remember parts of. Then it just turned into a parody and, well, it's 11 pm and that's as good as it's going to get tonight.)


  1. Yay! All my hard work ain't been in vain for nothing. I remember you asking me to quiz you on this poem over and over. I think I still have bits of it memorized, too.

    Do you ever send any of these things in for publication?

  2. Love your creativity Tamary! Poetry seems to be a lost art, but you do it well. (Thanks to Lisa for the link to this. :)