I am a retired high-school English teacher from Potts Camp, Mississippi. Life in general and my grandchildren in particular inspire me to write. I especially enjoy writing--and reading--rhymed, metered poetry and mourn its near-demise. I get a real charge out of parodying the famous poems I taught my students--while keeping a perfectly straight face and assuring them that studying such noble literature would greatly enhance their lives. I stay busy with a variety of activities at home and church.
Parody No. 2 of Emily Dickinson's
Because I could not stop for Death...
When I refused to ride with Death
He tied my hands and feet,
Then tossed me in with some poor guy
He'd grabbed up off the street.
Oh, what a hurry he was in!
He slammed it to the floor.
We sat in wide-eyed, abject fear,
Each clinging to a door.
While whizzing past the school, we saw
The children run and play.
We passed the fields where tractors hummed
On this, our judgment day.
We captives introduced ourselves,
Shook hands, and sadly talked.
When Death heard unfamiliar names,
He gasped, slowed down, and balked.
He made a sudden stop beside
A swelling of the ground.
He scratched his head, he murmured low,
And then he turned around.
"'Tis centuries until your time!
I've made a grave mistake.
Seems I misread the pick-up sheet.
You're free, for goodness sake!"
-first published in Parody Magazine
©2015 Janice Canerdy