John’s Poetry
Jeffrey Hui, John Russell, and I have have been friends for a quarter of a century. John lives in London with his wife Ann, a doctor of music history, where, among other things, he sings, records, and tours worldwide with the BBC Symphony Chorus. He also wrote one of the Jesus Limericks.
— Steve
- Shakespearean Limericks
- Stopping by Shared Kitchens on a Summer Evening
- On Dish-Blindness
- The Roommate
- This Is Just To Say
- Post-Party Depression, or the Morning-After Quadrille
- A Bit More Shakespeare
- After The Movie
- Word-A-Day
- Seminar
- The AGM — A Supplication
- A Protest Song
Hamlet
To be or, perchance, not to be;
It's hard to decide it, you see:
To snuff it and end it,
To stay here and mend it,
Or bump off my whole family.
Romeo & Juliet
Oh Romeo, wherefore are thou?
It seems so unfair to me now.
It's not you I blame,
It's the fault of your name
That prevents us from taking that vow.
MacBeth
[First Witch]
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, in lightning or rain?
[Second Witch]
It gets rather boring
To meet where it's pouring.
[Third Witch]
I vote for the south coast of Spain.
Romeo & Juliet 2
Although Juliet's 'death' was a myth,
She and Romeo snuffed it forthwith.
One might well have hoped
That, instead, they'd eloped
Under "Mr. and Mrs. John Smith".
© 2002 John Burr Russell
Stopping by Shared Kitchens on
a Summer Evening
(After Robert Frost)
Whose plates these are I think I know.
They've left them here and scarpered though;
They will not see me stopping here
To watch some new mold cultures grow.
I must admit I think it queer
That they should cook, then disappear,
A pile of dishes in their wake
To wash, perhaps, some other year.
I give my head a mournful shake
And wonder if by some mistake
They thought to clean and wash and sweep
Was someone else's job to take.
I'd love to leave mine in a heap.
But I have promises to keep,
And pots to wash before I sleep,
And pots to wash before I sleep.
© 2002 John Burr Russell
On Dish-Blindness
(After John Milton)
When I consider how my night was spent,
Ere going to bed in this dark world, and think
Of that last saucepan left beside the sink
Lodged with burnt remnants, how my back was bent
To scrape therefrom with scrubbers, and present
A pristine space, lest housemates, filled with drink,
Return and loudly utter, "What's that stink?"
And wake me up. But never, to prevent
My own ire, do they ever pay much heed
To their strewn leavings and foul mess. Who best
Wash their own pots, they please me best, and quash
My outrage. Though they pay their rent with speed,
And make such pleasant merriment and jest;
They also serve who only stand and wash.
© 2002 John Burr Russell
The Roommate
(After Edgar Allen Poe)
Once upon a morning dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a stultifying text of Writing 204 —
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping on the house's door —
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at the house's
door —
Only this and nothing more."
While I sat and read and waited, it continued unabated
And at last I rose, belated, towards the still-unanswered door;
Yet it seemed the faint, unpleasant susurrus was omnipresent,
Unrelenting and incessant, sounding louder than before,
Somewhere here, inside this room, and ever louder than before —
Thoughts that chilled me to the core.
What it was, there was no knowing 'til I saw the puddle growing
And a tiny trickle flowing stealthily across the floor.
"Surely," said I, "surely there's some water dripping from
upstairs;
Is there some pipe that needs repairs? Let me this mystery explore —
Let me wait to call the landlord and this mystery explore
Lest he raise the rent once more!"
In a trice my way I wended to the staircase, then ascended,
Hoping this could soon be mended cheaply (as we all were poor);
In the bathroom doorway stopping at the sound of water dropping,
There I saw my roommate mopping, mopping up the bathroom floor;
Mopping up a lake of water gathered on the bathroom floor
Seeping out beneath the door.
It did not require three guesses to surmise some fallen tresses
Clogged the drain and caused the messes; it had happened oft before.
Why, then, was he not empowered to unclog before he showered?
This I asked, but he just glowered, first at me and then the floor —
At the film of soapy water covering the bathroom floor,
While the question he ignored.
"Look," I vainly tried explaining, "when the shower isn't
draining,
In the living room it's raining, leaking through the bathroom floor.
Surely someone with your schooling could avoid this constant pooling,
Yet you stand there, nearly drooling, staring at the bathroom floor;
Clean the hair from out the drain so you won't flood the bathroom floor."
Quote the roommate, "S'not my chore."
© 2004 John Burr Russell
This Is Just To Say
(After William Carlos Williams)
I have eaten
the leftover pizza
that was in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
I had
the munchies
something fierce
© 2004 John Burr Russell
Post-Party Depression, or the
Morning-After Quadrille
(After Lewis Carroll)
“Will you walk a bit more softly?” said a student, looking
pale,
“I am feeling rather fragile from tequila shots and ale,
My mouth tastes like rancid guano and my eyes feel full of ants,
And I’m naked for some reason -- will you help me find my pants?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you help me find my pants?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, help me find my
pants?
“There are beer cans on the balcony and bottles on the stair,
There’s a shaved Chihuahua in my bed (now how did that get there?),
Someone’s painted the piano keys and pissed in all the plants,
And despite my frantic searching I still cannot find my pants.
Cannot, have not, cannot, have not, cannot find my pants.
Cannot, have not, cannot, have not, have not found my pants."
“What matters it how bad the mess?” his housemate quipped
and smiled,
“There’s another bash tonight, you know, which should be twice
as wild.
There’s a stripper that I’ve hired that does this thing with
cormorants;
When you see it, trust me, you’ll be glad you could not find your
pants.
Could not, did not, could not, did not, could not find your pants.
Could not, did not, could not, did not, did not find your pants.”
© 2004 John Burr Russell
Titus Andronicus
Higglety pigglety
Titus Andronicus
Lost his whole family
(Quite a large bunch)
Then singlehandedly
Tracked down his enemies
Wrapped them in pastry
And served them for lunch.
© 2002 John Burr Russell
After the movie, he said,
“I want to live in that world
Where a man can sit down at a piano to play
And a pretty young girl will begin to sing along
And suddenly there are violins playing
Invisible and sweet
And the ghostly descant of an oboe
Floats over a nonexistent backup choir.
I want to live in that world
Where a hundred or so strangers
Who had never before set eyes on one another
Can break into perfect unrehearsed choreography
And never miss a step
Where every speech is perfectly crafted
Eloquent, flawlessly delivered
And guaranteed to stir the soul
And move an angry mob to cheers or tears
Where the people we want to win always win
And the ones who don’t are bad people
Or at least people we don’t know and never will
Which is somehow okay too
And where an unseen but omnipotent Power
Watches carefully over all
Scripting all the lines, directing all the players
To ensure that everything turns out all right in the end.
I want to live in that world.”
And she said,
“Next time, don’t eat so much candy. It makes you babble.”
© 2002 John Burr Russell
While browsing on the Internet,
I learned something today.
I learned about the "triolet"
While browsing on the Internet
(Or is it "trio-lay"?).
Whichever one it is, you bet,
While browsing on the Internet,
I learned something today.
© 2002 John Burr Russell
The lecturer, as dry as dust,
Is droning on and on
And we attend, for so we must,
Though any meaning (which we trust
Might once have properly been sussed)
Is well and truly gone;
But still we sit and wait, nonplussed,
And each suppress a yawn.
© 2003 John Burr Russell
O Jesus and Mary, have pity;
O Lord, of my prayer take heed,
As I sit here and watch the Committee
Still debating how best to proceed.
Should we read through the papers in stages
And attend to the points one by one,
Or just skip, as we need, through the pages?
(Lord, we’re stymied before we’ve begun!)
Then one person says we have no remit
And the views of the members aren’t heard,
Whilst another thinks best we should deem it
Standard practice to write down each word.
One by one those with voices dissenting
All demand their concerns be addressed,
But, alas, they’ve just turned up for venting
And are happiest feeling oppressed.
In the front row, they bluster and sputter;
In the back row, they’re quietly snoring.
In between, they disgruntledly mutter
As the meeting grows ever more boring.
Now a member demands that we render
A decision, and call it a day
But the Chairman maintains his agenda
Says we’re only at Point 1, Part A!
Lord, a pox on these quibbling contrarians!
Could you please a dictator anoint?
It may not be as egalitarian
But at least we might get to a point!
© 2004 John Burr Russell
Some folks from Al Quaeda, they dealt us quite a blow;
They killed a lot of people, and laid the Towers low.
We’ve got to find bin Laden, and hit him with a bomb
But if we can’t find him, we’ll just go drop it on Saddam!
Hooray! Hoorah!
We’re going off to war!
Even though we’re not exactly certain what it’s for:
Is it truth and peace and freedom, or power, guns and oil?
Either way, our troops are landing on Iraqi soil.
Saddam, he has some nasty weapons hidden in his land.
He’s not supposed to have ‘em, ‘cause we’ve told
him they were banned.
Saddam denies that they exist, and that’s why all the fuss:
We know he’s got the weapons, ‘cause he bought them all from
us!
Hooray! Hoorah!
We’re going off to war!
What will happen if we win? Nobody’s really sure.
There needs to be some changes -- on that we can agree --
So we’ll stage a coup d’etat to bring Iraq democracy!
Now gather ‘round and listen to our President, George Bush,
Who says, “Saddam’s a bad guy and he needs to get the push.
He bombed and gassed his people, and you haven’t heard the worst:
He went and bombed his people before we could bomb them first!”
Hooray! Hoorah!
We’re going off to war!
With the folks from CNN along to keep the score.
Let’s try to win this quickly, and welcome home our men --
And maybe in ten years, we’ll get to do it all again!
© 2003 John Burr Russell
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