Where’s Weird Al When You Need Him?

Today’s poetry challenge actually kind of made me smile a bit. We’re to write a parody or satire of a favorite, or unfavorite, poem of the past. So, when I saw the word parody I immediately thought of Weird Al Yankovich. Wouldn’t you? The man made a fortune off of his parodies of songs. My personal favorite is still Eat It. Even Big Son knows Weird Al. Oh my gosh, do you remember that he had a movie called UHF?

A famous parody in poetry is The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd by Sir Walter Raleigh, an answer to Christopher Marlowe’s The Passionate Shepherd to his Love (click here to read both side by side). I remember reading both of these and smiling at the reply by Raleigh. Marlowe’s shepherd is trying to win the heart of his ladylove, and Raleigh’s nymph replies that she cannot be won by material things. The Nymph’s Reply is not a particularly humorous poem, but you perceive a sense of humor within it’s lines. I always picture Raleigh writing it with a hint of a mischievous smile on his face.

I took my cue from these poems. My parody is not really a parody, but a reply. I took Sara Teasdale’s I Shall Not Care and responded. You can read the original here. I am also including another poem I wrote, not as a parody or satire, but in homage to another Teasdale poem (my favorite) titled Moods.

Blogging A to Z Challenge: letter U, word Uncaring.

Hope you like both poems.

xo Jesi

P.S. Formatting didn’t work today. Each poem contains two quatrains. (four line stanzas)



By Jessica Scott

When you are dead and gone, and April’s

Rain-drenched hair has long since dried,

I will lean above you, broken heart mended,

And my love to you confide.

And while at peace you may be resting,

Cold-hearted and silent in your grave,

You will know I did always care,

But your heart you never gave.

Moods Part II-Tribute to Sara Teasdale

By Jessica Scott

I am the red sky dawning

                After the shadows of the night.

Be for me the new day sighing,

                Be for me the light.

I am the grey clouds crying,

                Too full of sorrow and of pain.

Be for me the bright sun shining,

                Be for me the sweet Spring rain.