December 3, 2007
Ode to Editing
While in Cambodia I was teaching an editing workshop (through a translator, I might add; it's much more difficult than it sounds), and I'm feeling inspired by Dave's Ode to Homonym Substitutions and Ode to an Artfully Written Run-On Sentence (which I feel obligated to give you another example of here), and I was discussing with a friend last week a book that needs a much closer edit than it received (all I can say is: chop, chop), so as our Fortnight of Odes draws to a close (much more gracefully than this sentence), I offer you an Ode to Editing. (Just a little warning: it may move you to grateful tears. I might have shed a tear or two myself while writing it . . .)
Sum folks may claim (I wont name names)
that editing need, we don't
I; ofer you hear
ode an that makes clear
why survyving without it--we won't
Things are A miss (I promise u this)!
without a good editor's eyes
we labour for. You
to make errorrs few
so all of your books are good buys.
Idaes shine threw and words becomme new
when editing! work is done well
And what the is test
of an editors best ?
Reader, you are the one who can tell!
If we have at all inspired you during our Fortnight of Odes--or even if we haven't--why not post one of your own?
Posted by Lisa Rieck
at December 3, 2007 9:18 AM
Light emitting, crossroads splitting,
Elegaic curse words spitting
Spells the bytes in bits of boredom;
Locks the doors with misericordium.
Pops the cork that keeps the pork in barreled bolts of lightning.
Oh, Bugs of Bunny, what's so funny?
Put your hands up, give me money!
Gnaw the bones, they're shaped like carrots
Piling up beside the garrots
Start the joke that proves the point that doctors broke are barely buoyant.
You woozle past the wheezing mutton,
eat the stars that won't unbutton,
then complain about a splitting hummingache?
Let 'em eat steak
in rounds of perfect order
made to border distant planets
like a belt of sanguine ella . . .
Fitzkirkpatrick with the hat trick
pulling rabbits out of habits
'cross a feathered parsec lonely
like a Carolina Mowgli
lost without a bear to lean on
in this dungeon not too keen on
margarine of era.
This ode was not so clevah.
It made sense hardly evah.
I thought I might have tried
to rhyme without "I lied,"
But contratemps is tantamount to a tactile tarantella.
Quick Ode to My Space Heater
Oh, the warmth
the subtle heat
greeting me in the cold morning
when my eyelashes are
I look forward to work
because of you.
Ode to my beard:
The neck and the face,
What an interesting place,
That God designated for hair.
But on cold winter days,
Or in harsh UV rays,
I sure am thankful it's there.