.

The Day the Roofers Came

He fled the day the roofers came. His fur was fluffed and frizzy.
He whizzed across the busy lawn so quick it made me dizzy.
The slam and clang and hammer bang had left him in a tizzy.

I searched the day the roofers came with piles of tiles of shingle.
Appalled I called then bawled his name above the windchime jingle
To soar beyond the tears and toil where hope and heaven mingle.

I bled the day the roofers came. My wits were mauled and mangled—
Entangled in catastrophe and clawed by angst, they dangled
In limbo at the jagged edge where spangled dreams are strangled.

I sobbed the day the roofers came. I shivered, shook and sniveled.
My craw was chockablock with shock. My eyes and nostrils dribbled.
Bereft, I grieved beneath the eaves as optimism shriveled.

I shrieked the day the roofers came. A holler of hysteria
Escaped the bowels of my backyard to ripple in Siberia.
I blighted skies with yowls so foul no howl was ever eerier.

I beamed the night the roofers went. While sifting through some clutter
I found my precious, whiskered pet with purrs of silken butter—
A boon that buoyed the gloomy moon and made one glum heart flutter.

.

.

Torn

It ripped its way through seams of inky cloth
Backlit by a blaze of blinking stars.
It scattered bat and fascinated moth
Before eclipsing Uranus and Mars.
With gibbous winks of alabastrine cheek
Peeping through the fabric of the night,
Rousing wolf to howl and owl to shriek,
It posed a plumptious bummer of a sight.
The birthday-suited booty beckoned eyes
To cosmic zones of bottomless disgrace.
There’s room for just one moon to loom in skies—
A doughy derriere should know its place…
Not jiggling in the crack of Luna’s snigger
But wriggling into slacks a whole size bigger.

.

.

Grapevine

Rumor has it there’s a ferret
Down the farmer’s trouser leg
Fat on fudge and licks of claret
Leaking from an oaken keg.
Rumor has it there’s a parrot
Nesting in the vicar’s wig
Orange as an ass’s carrot
Dipped in syrup from a fig.
Rumor has it that a harlot
With a spunky guinea pig
Met a monkey and a marmot
Keen to dance a kinky jig
On a hillock (green and fleecy)
Mown by squirrels from Assisi.

Rumor has it there’s a weasel
Out to mar the afternoon
Popping bubbles with a thistle
From the banks of Shrew Lagoon.
Rumor has it there’s a weevil
On the cheek of a baboon
Stirring up a slew of evil
With a bone and brimstone spoon.
Rumor has it one who sees all
Will be coming very soon
Wired and fired to fell and freeze all
Jabberers beneath the moon.
Rumor has it tittle-tattle
Sparks a hot and bitter battle.

Rumor has it there’s a friar
Filching from a nun in need
With a tenor from the choir
Lacking grace and wracked with greed.
Rumor has it life’s a liar
Of the cloaked and cunning creed
With an eye that flashes fire
And a claw of dirty deed.
Rumor has it days are dire.
Tragedy has sown its seed.
Piety is on the pyre.
Anarchy has gathered speed.
Every rumor here is honest
As the brown-nose toad has promised.

First published in Snakeskin

.

.

Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas.

NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets.

The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary.


Trending now:

26 Responses

  1. Russel Winick

    Each of these is fabulous in every Susanish way; but “chockablock”? That’s above and beyond!!!

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Russel, you have made me smile… just as I did when “chockablock” sprung to mind… an over-the-top touch this poem begged for. Russel, thank you!

      Reply
  2. Roy Eugene Peterson

    1. I once had a cat named Albert about whom I wrote a children’s book. I found my cat under a pile of lumber after having spent the night while we bewailed his absence. I certainly understand the angst as the voice likely grew hoarse. I was so relieved when the cat was found and could “purr as silken butter.”
    2. “Torn” is a treasure of humor that stirred the imagination. I believe I understood the reference to planets. Your nonpareil description of attempting to make beloved slacks still fit matches my various weight levels which fortunately are reduced again.
    3. Your fantastic set of rumors, so many and so captivatingly written, was the highlight of my day. I felt the rumors increasing in seriousness that you capped with “every rumor is honest,” leaving us to cogitate on the banter and great humor intrinsic in your unassailable masterpiece.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Roy, thank you very much indeed. I love your take on my poems, and I especially love the story of Albert (how wonderful to hear his plight prompted a children’s book) … I’m a sucker for a happy ending. “The Day the Roofers Came” was prompted by the angst George Lionel caused a couple of weeks ago… I’m thrilled he’s back!

      Reply
  3. Mark Stellinga

    Susan, your poetry gives us all a blue ribbon to vie for, and encourages us to work like hell at doing so. Your works are consistently such exquisite examples. No poet I know of says it quite like you do, not even close. Loved ’em all – “Hi” to Mike –

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Mark, I am overwhelmed with your kind words of encouragement… and always fully aware that I’m only ever as good as my last poem. I hope I never disappoint you.

      Reply
      • Mark Stellinga

        You haven’t yet… 🙂 – including in your 2 wonderful books. You’ve established a goal I know I’ll never reach within the realm of ‘classical’ poetry – wherein I’m seriously out of my depth – but our philosophies are so much alike I can only keep trying with my fairly well-received populisticalisms.
        PS: ‘Torn’ tore me up, and please give my best to George Lionel.

      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Mark, I’m thrilled you enjoy my poetry and thanks again for your continued support and encouragement.

  4. Cynthia Erlandson

    Oh, my goodness — reading “Roofers”, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was almost crying for the poor feline when I got to the penultimate verse and couldn’t help laughing at the hilarious rhymes! Your internal rhymes eternally amuse me, too! And your alliteration obliterates anyone else’s (anyone that I know of).
    Reading “Torn”, I was reminded of one of your poems that begins by stating that you only want to write about the moon. I’m glad you’re back to it!
    Grapevine:
    I’m not sure I understand it,
    (I’m just kidding; to be candid,
    It’s a ton of fun!) (And we need humor these days!)

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Cynthia, I am grinning! I was laughing and crying as I wrote the “roofers” poem… the pain of a lost pet needed to be aired… in the most entertaining way possible. I’m glad I managed it. As for my moon mission, I believe poets should always look at their subject matter from an engaging and unusual angle… need I say more. LOL!… and “Grapevine” – I know we’re on the same wavelength, and that makes me smile. Cynthia, thank you very much indeed!

      Reply
  5. Joseph S. Salemi

    All three are wonderful, but I especially like “Grapevine.” It reminds me of another Kentish poet who was an adept at lists of strange improbabilities: John Whitworth.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Joe, thank you very much indeed. I’m thrilled you like “Grapevine”, and the comparison has made my evening.

      Reply
  6. Brian A. Yapko

    Susan, I love these poems so much. I nearly had a stroke worrying about your cat on The Day the Roofers Came — when we got to the part where you sobbed, I feared the worst. And when you got to beam with relief, I beamed with you. This is titularly a comic poem (some of those rhymes are hysterical), but it actually runs the gamut of human emotions in a way that carries surprising depth. Would it sound strange to say that I find this poem Shakespearian? Our favorite bard demonstrates that the main difference between comedy and tragedy is that a comedy has a happy ending. If your cat had not been found or found dead (God forbid) all of those poetic devices would have brought us to a place of weeping rather than snickering relief. In sum, we have a well-wrought cliffhanger in which I accept that your emotions are 100% real. The poetic devices — including the ostensibly comic effects — actually heighten the suspense. What a poem!

    “Torn” is more truly a comic poem. It’s hard to find gravitas in the tale of an expanding fanny. But you mine the imagery and mock-seriousness here for all they’re worth. It’s a blast to read.

    “Grapevine” is both terrifying and a blast to read — something of a fever dream of improbable connections and a dazzling array of rhymes which have that special SJB touch. Once again, I think of Shakespearian because of the incantatory quality of the piece. You keep repeating “rumor has it…” but it takes on a really disturbing quality as we move through the poem and its series of ominous images, images which feel supernatural — ” here’s a weevil
    On the cheek of a baboon/Stirring up a slew of evil/With a bone and brimstone spoon.” And yet you get to the friar and there’s nothing but human depravity at work.” Ah. And here is the key. You interchange and interconnect human wrongfulness with what appears to be almost demonic imagery with what are relatively innocent foibles and peccadillos. The balance you achieve among the various images and attitudes is a master’s course on tone. The kaleidoscope of images and the incantatory feel to the piece really bring home the message that, with all of this going on, “days are dire”. And they are. Oh yes, they are.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Brian, thank you for this magnificent comment. You have spotted every little twist and turn and picked up on the feel of each message perfectly, and your mention of Shakespeare has me smiling. As you are well aware, I am a huge fan of the bard and to think a little his wonder may have rubbed off thrills me.

      Our dear George Lionel was found the night before I wrote the “roofers” poem, and I was laughing and crying as I wrote it… I am so glad you picked up on those notes. I love your spot-on mention of the differences between tragedy and comedy… so very true. My muse trod a fine line between them with this one.

      Like a bad comedian, I laughed at my own joke when I wrote “Torn”, and I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. I certainly didn’t suffer for my art with this one… and then there’s “Grapevine” – the nonsense poem with a dollop of dark reality – your fine eye catches all I hoped to achieve. Brian, I thoroughly appreciate your eloquent and erudite takes.

      Reply
  7. Jeff Eardley

    Susan, I don’t know how you do this. Another trio of amazing word-playing masterpieces. I love the images of Lionel scuttling away from the roofers, and the happy ending came as a relief. Torn and Grapevine are hilarious, although Brian’s reference to the “Expanding Fanny” may raise a few eyebrows over here. Thanks and best wishes to you and Mike.

    Reply
    • Russel Winick

      I know how she does it – talent on loan from God, as Rush used to say.

      Reply
      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        I love old that Rush adage, Russel – I’m smiling.

    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Jeff, thank you very much indeed. Your “expanding fanny” observation has me laughing so hard my sides ache. I have the funniest fanny story imaginable… it’s true and simply begging to be told in poetry form.

      Reply
  8. Shamik Banerjee

    A cat poem, humorous or otherwise, never fails to lift my spirit. Reading your first poem reminded me of a similar incident. When our roof was being reconstructed, the timidest of my three cats scurried to some secret den only known to her, giving us a perpetual headache. The reason is the ear-splitting noise from the rockdrill. Name a place where we didn’t search for her—from the vitrine to the lawn. Later (after a nearly two-hour search), I found her atop a carton, sleeping with no earthly burden.
    “Torn” brings forth some memorable scenes. The language employed here does justice to the subject.
    “Grapevine” is a very special poem, and although I’ve read it before, I never grow tired of lilting myself in his cadence again and again. A poem with truth capsules and rhythm.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Shamik, thank you very much indeed for your generous comment. I especially like the tale of your dear kitty and how you found her snoozing “with no earthly burden” while leaving your nerves dangling at that jagged edge. I’m certain George Lionel was doing just the same. I’m glad you liked “Torn” and especially thrilled you have enjoyed yet another reading of “Grapevine”. I thoroughly appreciate your support and encouragement.

      Reply
  9. Yael

    These are all great fun to read, thank you Susan! You can sure spin tall and entertaining tales that would be the envy of every raft guide on the river.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      What an amazing compliment, Yael. I am certain raft guides have amazing stories to tell… to think my poetry has been elevated to that level has made my moonlit night. Thank you very much indeed!

      Reply
  10. Joshua C. Frank

    Susan, all these are great, as usual!

    The first, I’m sure from reading it, really happened. Either way, it’s a great story. “Torn” made me laugh! “Grapevine” is impressive with all its rhymes, but I’m guessing it’s about the Church’s latest antics, especially the part about Assisi and the third stanza. If so, I’m afraid these are no rumors.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Josh, thank you so much. It always pleases me when you enjoy my poetry, and yes, the first is true – the language is embellished and the mood is hyperbolic, but it’s based on real events… events I don’t want repeated any time soon… although, I must say that our rather aloof feline lord has dropped the cattitude and has returned full of appreciation for his maid and his butler.

      Reply
  11. Margaret Coats

    I always like a cat poem, and this reminded me of the time our Orlando disappeared for two or three days (very, very unusual that he would not return for dinner). We had to put out signs in the neighborhood with his picture, and it turned out the best picture we had was a photo of him with an open book called “The Great Escape.” Hope it gave somebody a chuckle. I can understand your distress at the ruckus of roofing, but was surprised at “bled” in the third stanza. Of course there is catastrophe for wits thereafter, violent enough to exaggerate into physical bleeding. You could also have sped into a metaphorical crash. Anyway, glad you’re out and reunited with your cat. Hope the roof lasts a good twenty years.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      I’m glad you like cat poems, Margaret, and I’m glad Orlando’s great escape had a happy ending.

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.