Dear Mister Nash

Dear Mister Nash

For poetry I have no zest

Even when written by the best

To tell the truth I haven't time

To sit and think of words that rhyme

I wrote this in 1960. I was 11 and in the 6^th grade. I had received an assignment to write a poem. I was not too happy about the assignment and struggled with it until I finally came up with the above. I got an “A” and it was put on the 1^st page of a school newsletter containing some of the students' writings. 8^th grade came around and again I received an assignment to write a poem. I decided to submit my now 2 year old poem. I got an “A” on it and it was included in the school's annual literary publication. It was either the 10^th or the 11^th grade when once again I received an assignment to write a poem. I worked on a few things, but in the end I fell back on the one I wrote in 6^th grade. Why not? It had already gotten me 2 “A”s. I was not an A student in anything except gym and math. I submitted the same poem again. I got an “A”. Later in the school year someone in my homeroom who was on the annual school literary magazine informed me that my poem was selected, it was the last one picked and made the last page of the publication.

Four lines, 3 “A”s. At various times I have fooled with trying to write a poem. I wrote a few but I believe I peaked at 11. In the 6^th grade I really only knew of three writers of poems: Dr Seuss, Shel Silverstein, and Ogden Nash. If you know the 3 poets, and I suspect most people of my generation do, then you can see the influence, especially Mr Nash. In fact I again used this poem in college and titled it “Dear Mister Nash”. I didn't get an “A” but I got a “B”.

The poem itself can be attributed to my creative side, a small side indeed, like the poem. This story appeals to my logical, practical side - the side that allows me to be good at math and computer programming. Those traits lend themselves to characteristics such as simplicity, economy, efficiency.

Of course the fact that I took the shortcut of using the same poem over and over can be attributed to the slacker, quite larger, side of me.

I like to read and have read some poetry in the past, but today I do not read much poetry. When I was younger I read more of it. Some of the poets I liked to read at that time were e. e. Cummings, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and Gary Snyder. I also read people like Kenneth Patchen, Leonard Cohen and even Ezra Pound. Today I occasionally read a poem I stumble upon, usually in some publication like the “NewYorker” but that's pretty much it.

I will close with 2 poems by Ogden Nash:

The Hunter

The hunter crouches in his blind

'Neath camouflage of every kind,

And conjures up a quaking noise

To lend allure to his decoys.

This grown-up man with pluck and luck

Is hoping to outwit a duck.

The Middle

When I remember bygone days

I think of how evening flows morn;

So many I loved were not yet dead

So many I love were not yet born.