Tag Archives: Ogden Nash inspired poem


Except for those that get trapped inside my pants,
I really don’t think I hold a grudge against ants.


Last night at the starry sky, as I was casually glimpsing
I thought I saw a shadow up there, which appeared to be limpsing
I asked the shadow – Is that you dear God?
But its reaction to my question was somewhat odd
As it turned around and pleaded me to leave well alone
And it said this in a distinct tone that resembled a moan
Get lost in your temples please and practise alchemy
Instead of preaching that I’ll cure your woes, for that’s called blaschemy.


God’s armour methinks
Is old and rusty and full of chinks
Through the chinks sometimes show up his weeping eyes
And you hear him mumbling as he sighs–
Worn out alas is my mace
Or else I’d have wiped out the human race
And made it an extinct species
For spreading lies and fecund thescies
That claim it was I who’d created the universe
When in fact it was exactly the reuniverse.


When machines had begun to arrive on my earth
They used doubtlessly to add to my mirth
They ground for me my spices, massaged for me my legs
They toasted my bread each morning and soft boiled my eggs
Warmed up my cold food and dried up my wet hair
And vacuum cleaned my floors, under CCTV care
With every passing day show up machines ever newerer
To perform for me queer tasks that keep on growing queerer
And now of course my entire home the machines alone do stride
While I roam about the dusty streets of bygone mirth and pride.

Ogdenfully Yours

An elevator,
I assume has little to do with an alligator.
Yet, after inviting you in,
With a welcoming grin,
It refuses sometimes to let you out,
However much you scream or shout.
An elevator of course never bites or fights.
But it can cause a lot of fright, in particular, on lonesome nights.


Being kicked in their rears
Few enjoy I fears
Unless of course you’re a football
But then you can’t boast of a rear at all.


Chinese’s never sounded Greek to me
Nor Greek, I aver, quite Chinezeey.


Is the strangest word I’ve knoon.
Past mid-day it should mean
Yet rarely be-four’s afterneen.