Funny Poem Week: Day Four (Dorothy Parker)

One of the sauciest, most irreverent humorists is Dorothy Parker. Yes, she is amusing and entertaining, but her scathing wit often masks her loneliness, insecurity and depression. This can be seen in her most well-know quip: “Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.”

She was funny even to the end, writing, “excuse my dust” as an epitaph for her tombstone, her final resting place.

Enjoy these two interesting poems by Parker. The second one is for you, Racquel and Emily!

Inscription for the Ceiling of a Bedroom

Daily dawns another day;
I must up, to make my way.
Though I dress and drink and eat,
Move my fingers and my feet,
Learn a little, here and there,
Weep and laugh and sweat and swear,
Hear a song, or watch a stage,
Leave some words upon a page,
Claim a foe, or hail a friend —
Bed awaits me at the end.
Though I go in pride and strength,
I’ll come back to bed at length.
Though I walk in blinded woe,
Back to bed I’m bound to go.
High my heart, or bowed my head,
All my days but lead to bed.
Up, and out, and on; and then
Ever back to bed again,
Summer, Winter, Spring, and Fall —
I’m a fool to rise at all!

The Passionate Freudian to His Love

Only name the day, and we’ll fly away
 In the face of old traditions,
To a sheltered spot, by the world forgot,
 Where we’ll park our inhibitions.
Come and gaze in eyes where the lovelight lies
 As it psychoanalyzes,
And when once you glean what your fantasies mean
 Life will hold no more surprises.
When you’ve told your love what you’re thinking of
 Things will be much more informal;
Through a sunlit land we’ll go hand-in-hand,
 Drifting gently back to normal.

While the pale moon gleams, we will dream sweet dreams,
 And I’ll win your admiration,
For it’s only fair to admit I’m there
 With a mean interpretation.
In the sunrise glow we will whisper low
 Of the scenes our dreams have painted,
And when you’re advised what they symbolized
 We’ll begin to feel acquainted.
So we’ll gaily float in a slumber boat
 Where subconscious waves dash wildly;
In the stars’ soft light, we will say good-night—
 And “good-night!” will put it mildly.

Our desires shall be from repressions free—
 As it’s only right to treat them.
To your ego’s whims I will sing sweet hymns,
 And ad libido repeat them.
With your hand in mine, idly we’ll recline
 Amid bowers of neuroses,
While the sun seeks rest in the great red west
 We will sit and match psychoses.
So come dwell a while on that distant isle
 In the brilliant tropic weather;
Where a Freud in need is a Freud indeed,
 We’ll always be Jung together.