My Pyjamas!
My jamas have lemurs and llamas,
A rude cockatoo and a yak,
Cerulean shrews and iguanas
All running amok on the back.
Each sleeve has a mischief of muskrats,
A murder of clamorous crows,
A skink, a pink skunk and four fruit bats
With rows of opposable toes.
The collar boasts monocled monkeys
In paisley and polkadot socks.
The legs brag sartorial donkeys
And ferrets in frothiest frocks.
The front sports a gluttonous puffin
And buttons of crocodile teeth.
The pockets have top-secret stuff in
And moles with the soul of a thief.
As wild as a vexed javelina,
As proud as peacockian flocks,
As loud as a laughing hyena,
As mad as a lunar-licked fox,
No eye can deny my pyjamas—
They’re stitched up to snatch centre-stage.
They’re raucous and reek of bananas.
Come daybreak they’re locked in a cage.
Odd Socks
—a villanelle
I’m pondering the quandary of socks—
I haven’t got a single matching pair.
On laundry day they disappear in flocks.
I fear a fetishist has picked the locks
And pilfered flirty strays of fluffy flair.
I’m pondering the quandary of socks.
Did Sherlock know this washing-filching fox?
Were Hercule and Miss Marple made aware
On laundry day socks disappear in flocks?
I’m eager for the summer equinox—
The barefoot bliss of sand and sun-soaked air.
No pondering the quandary of socks.
I dream of preening, eighteenth-century cocks
All keening for lost stockings in despair.
On laundry day socks disappear in flocks.
I hear the chime of mocking cuckoo clocks
As time flits by and frosts my frazzled hair.
I’m pondering the quandary of socks.
On laundry day they disappear in flocks.
First published in Snakeskin
Sorry Soles
—a triolet
His polished brogues prefer the well-paved way.
She treks untrammelled trails in crystal clogs.
Romantics pray their feet will meet one day.
His polished brogues prefer the well-paved way—
They bypass paths where puckish pixies play
And randy damsels snog besotted frogs.
His polished brogues prefer the well-paved way.
She treks untrammelled trails in crystal clogs.
Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas.
What a delightful trio of poems which are pure fun, Susan! Each one made me smile while pondering the extraordinary permutations of the Susan Jarvis Bryant mind! These poems really made me think even though I realize they are not intended to be profound.
“Sorry Soles” had me a bit puzzled until I focused repeatedly (as the triolet form demands) on those “crystal clogs.” That, and the damsels and the frog reference, made me finally recognize that we are in Fairy Tale Land, albeit with phrasing one would never attribute to the Brothers Grimm! Unless I’m much mistaken, those crystal clogs are glass slippers, and the polished brogue-speaking dude is the Prince. Cinderella! What a delightful retelling from a rather tilted point of view!
The socks villanelle is hilarious. Socks do seem to slip into some parallel dimension when we are not looking. All those “socks” rhymes really tickled me but the piece de resistance (forgive the lack of diacritical marks in my computer-challenged French) is undoubtedly “equinox.” Those sock flocks is an image well worth remembering!
My favorite poem of the three is the first, the hilarious “list” poem describing your “pyjamas” (British spelled rather than American pajamas.”) You have created a menagerie of sonic parallels which delight both eye and ear (“monkeys/donkeys” was particular cute) along with a spree of internal rhymes and animal images and language which are great fun! You remind the reader of how rich the English language is, and how sometimes unexpected. “A mischief” as the collective term for muskrats; a “murder” as the collective term for crows. Where did such poetic terms come from, one must wonder? You make great use of all sorts of alliteration and assonance and this poem simply cries out to be set to music or illustrated in a children’s book. Brava!
Brian, I am deeply flattered that my dabbling in the nonsensical has got you pondering, and I just love your observations, especially on “Sorry Soles” – my Cinderella story with a difference. Sometimes the Prince of Polished Brogues sticks stubbornly to the well-trodden path to the land of the comfy slippers and pipe… while the woman of his dreams is wading in crystal clogs through the frog-infested marshes nearby. If only he would veer from the beaten track!
As you have spotted from the spelling, my pyjamas are very British. I know most Texans are proud to wear pajamas of this nature, so the poem wouldn’t surprise them in the least. I have aimed this poem at my British friends who will have a horrible shock at my wild choice of bed wear.
My granddaughter is just reaching the age where she is beginning to work out just how wacky her grandma is… maybe it is time for an illustrated children’s book. Brian, thank you very much indeed!
You know why the SCP is great? It’s because of fascinating and interesting poems like these.
“My Pyjamas!” sounds as if it jumped right out of The Book of Nonsense by Edward Lear. The playfulness, the unexpected description, the smooth flow of ABAB quatrains with alternate feminine and masculine endings, the verbal menagerie of animal life… it’s all there, as if Edward Lear were reborn.
And the perfect villanelle and triolet are just as impishly comic. Poems like this remind me to be grateful for all those English poets of the later 19th century who resuscitated these older French forms and showed that they were fruitful for English poetry. There was William Ernest Henley, and also Andrew Lang, who brought out “Ballads and Lyrics of Old France” in 1872. What a great borrowing that was!
A villanelle on odd socks is inventive! It takes what would seem an unpromising subject and weaves nineteen lines of whimsy and frolic out of it. The poet has put together sexual fetishism, three canonical detectives, the summer equinox, roosters and cuckoo-clocks… as we used to say, “Who’da thunk it?” It presents us with an unexpected reality, but a reality that is still recognizably our world. That is genuine fictive mimesis.
“Sorry Soles” is the same, and its two repetend lines by themselves are worth the price of admission. Great work, Susan.
Joe, thank you so much for your appreciative, encouraging, and educative comment. I’m especially thrilled you enjoyed the triolet. It’s one of my favorite forms. It’s such a tricky form to work with, like a little jewel of a puzzle that shines when every word is in place. I love the challenge.
I have always been drawn to poets such as: Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, Roald Dahl, Hilaire Belloc, Spike Milligan, Ogden Nash etc. which is why your comparison with Lear is so dear to me. “Impishly comic” and a cheeky bit extra was my goal, so I’m glad you heard that in my words. I am now interested to learn about those “Ballads and Lyrics of Old France.”
I grew up with a love of nursery rhymes. I was carried away by the musicality, humor, and that scary shiver of many of them. Nursery rhymes gave me a love of poetry that has lasted till this day. I think they are vital to our children’s education.
I wish I could see your pyjamas (with permission of Mike). The murder of crows is the appropriate term for a “flock” of crows that I have in one of my own poems planned for submission in October. I want to see the monocled monkeys and the gluttonous Puffin. The case of the disappearing socks in indeed a poetic marvel that brings in the great British detectives–Sherlock, Hercule Poirot, and Miss Marple. They would be hard pressed to find the culprit. I am glad you titled the last poem “Lost Soles” and not “Lost Souls.” The references and imagery of the Cinderella parody indeed elicited my own laughs. With your poems, you could pass off your own made-up words in place of your British “brogue,” and I would not be the wiser, yet somehow, I understand them all. I do worry about “randy damsels snog besotted frogs.” Great entertainment for us all.
Roy, thank you very much for this treat of a comment. If ever you pop in for afternoon tea, I will bring out my PJ cage for you to have a close up look at my wild bed wear… don’t get too close, mind you – they have been known to give a fierce nip.
I thoroughly look forward to reading your own “murder of crows” piece in October. I have a passion for collective nouns and love making up my own. “Benibbled by a gnash of moths” is a line I enjoyed creating. I feel a new poem coming on! Roy, you inspire me!
These jolly lines of yours remind me of one of the best audiences for poetry–children or those of us who have not lost the humor of children. What fun there is in romping rhymes, bouncing rhythms, and absurd critters like “monocled monkeys” or–to make the mind dizzier–“a mischief of muskrats” or delightful images like “buttons of crocodile teeth” (what a picture!) We get a bubbly commotion of color and sound and brilliant nonsense. And you accomplish all this while (effortlessly?) directing the machinery of meter and rhyme. Thank you for the excellent entertainment. We, the readers, are happy to come along for the ride. What more can I say but–wheee!
Bhikkhu, what an encouraging comment. I am basking in every delightful word of it, and I am especially grateful for the nod to the job of directing the machinery of meter and rhyme – one of the most important aspects of comic verse. I will admit to sweating over the details… while smiling, of course. I’m thrilled you enjoyed the ride. Thank you very much indeed!
What a hilarious description of the menagerie on your pj’s, especially having them be locked up in a cage at daybreak! (And I love puffin/stuff in!)
I’m picturing flocks of socks flying overhead along with (or perhaps on the feet of) a flock of geese. (Or maybe they’re stuck behind your dryer?)
Very humorous sleepwear and footwear poems!
Cynthia, thank you so much for your glorious comment. I especially like your imagination extending to a sock-clad flock of geese. I believe you’re onto something. I am not going to bother looking behind the dryer. My poet’s heart tells me my missing socks are keeping the feet of migratory birds warm and that vision is worth the price of a few lost socks.
So much fun and frolic in all three poems, my favorite being My Pyjamas, With a vision in my head of “rows of opposable toes” and Odd Socks and Sorry Soles, to round off this fun trio. Amazing creativity Susan, which must have brought you so much joy as you penned them.
Norma, a seal of approval from a talented poet with a muse who loves to laugh out loud is a gift to me. I’m glad you liked those rows of opposable toes – I was giggling just thinking about them. What is a comic poem without a bit of musicality? Norma, my fellow poet in fun, thank you very much indeed!
A three-movement sonata of sartorial slapstick. Susan, poems sometimes make me smile; but I could count on the fingers of one hand the occasions when one has made me laugh out loud. You’re hereby added to a small and select list. In particular, My Pyjamas! is completely fascinating in its perfection, and one of those nonsense poems that isn’t quite nonsense. You might like to reflect on the idea that giving pleasure to readers is one of the highest privileges a writer can enjoy. Thank you.
Martin your opening description is a poem in itself — one that manages to capture exactly what I was going for, only I didn’t know it until you pointed it out beautifully. “A three-movement sonata of sartorial slapstick” is the most hilarious and highest praise I could have hoped for. Thank you very much!
A marvellous linguistic feast, Susan: who knew pyjamas were that interesting? Goodness knows what we’re going to find with your lingerie – we wait with anticipation!
James, my shocking lingerie is kept in a vault — a cage is far too flimsy to contain its wildness. The mildest description is beyond publication… sadly. Thank you very much for reading my poem and making me smile.
Susan, your clever talent with vocabulary brings to mind the retelling of Reynard the Fox by Anne Avery recently published by the University of Oxford. Have you read it? It is delightful, all 424 pages.
Margaret I’m glad you enjoyed the poems, and I’m utterly thrilled they brought Reynard the Fox to mind. Reynard the Fox was read out to me during infant school assembly from the age of five to seven, and I loved it. Most likely it was a school edition based on William Caxton’s English translation. I hadn’t heard of the Anne Avery publication, so thank you for that. It sent me on a journey to Google and then to Amazon where I purchased myself a copy. It looks like it’s aimed at adults and I thoroughly look forward to reading it. I also loved Kipling’s Rikki-Tikki-Tavi and Just So stories. I think it’s about time I entered my third childhood. Margaret, thank you for sending me on a joyful journey.
Not ONE poem about ‘clothing’, but THREE, Susan!!! What great fun I know you’re having as you build your marvelous Verse. One of the toughest things to do, for me at least, as a Poet is to come up with a ‘concept’ worth Poeming. I’m betting that, like most top-notchers, you keep either a note pad near you to jot down – or your cell to record – ideas that you just know would make good material for a sooner-or-later piece – of any type. It’s when I fail to make the effort to secure my little nuggets that I do the majority of my cussing. Connie, bless her heart, tries to help me remember now and then.
As several of our fellow SCPers have incisively articulated above, all 3 of these poems are “pretty darn good” — Your Majesty. 🙂 Take care…
Mark, it pleases me to know you enjoyed these poems. My head is always so full of ideas I don’t have time to give all of my thoughts attention. If a line comes to me, like you, I try to record it as quickly as I can. I’m always drawn to things that make me laugh. The problem is, I find humor in the most inappropriate places… which is why satire is one of my favorite genres. It’s lovely to hear Connie helps you. Mike and I have the strangest conversations — we like to indulge in a bit of foolosophy and that is where some of my best poems have been given life.
Thank you very much for your lovely words and your continued support.
Susan, you made my morning. Thank you for always bringing us your brilliance, on subjects both deep and whimsical. Brava.
Dusty, you are most welcome and thank you very much indeed for reading my whimsy. I so glad you enjoyed it.
Susan, I love these poems. “My Pyjamas!” is my favourite. We’ve had so much fun with it over the last few weeks. But now…. back to work… let your light shine!
Biggest fan, poetry wouldn’t be half as much fun without you laughing along with me!
Susan, thanks for these little gems. My favourite is the triolet. So much said about relationships and preferences and chance, all in 8 lines!
David, it’s always lovely to get a comment from you, and I am over the moon your favourite of the three is the triolet. I am a huge fan of brevity in poetry, and this poem is like a little puzzle to me. I always try to fit as much into a triolet as possible and to know I’ve achieved my goal is wonderful. David, thank you very much indeed!
All of these show how truly fun poetry can be under a deft hand. You turn items of clothing into fantasies. “My Pyjamas” would work particularly well as a bedtime story. I’ll try it with my children tonight. You make an entire zoo of creatures come to life with all their hilarious idiosyncrasies.
“Socks” is a good laugh, not something you usually see in a villanelle. The reference to “some fetishist” and Poirot and Miss Marple gave me good chuckles.
“Sorry Soles,” aside from providing a great pun, turns the sentimental triolet into a ballad of a jaded lover. “She treks untrammeled” sounds reminiscent of Byron’s “She walks in beauty.” Is that reference intentional?
Adam, thank you very much for your appreciative and encouraging words. I hope your children enjoyed “My Pyjamas.” I believe children learn to love the music of words before they fully appreciate exactly what they mean. At the age of fifteen months, my son laughed out loud at the word poodle, which I instantly took advantage of and paired it with as many rhyming words as I could find. He loved the result, even though he had no idea what I was talking about. This is why I think it’s important not to dumb down language too much – the sound is just as important as the meaning, and you’re only going to get the full impact of their magic with a vast array of words to choose from. To stoke a love and curiosity for words is vital to a child’s education, which is why nursery rhymes are so important.
I will admit I didn’t have Byron’s beautiful poem in mind when I wrote “Sorry Soles” and I love your mention of it – I can see why you thought that, and you have added sprinkle of sparkle to my little triolet with that beautiful thought. Thank you!
Yipes stripes! Is it possible for me to sue the author for forcing me to laugh? The supersonics are so sweet that I must forego my usual evening cookie. SJB is a one-woman orchestra whose mission is to keep the English language alive, well, and on top of the anglophone world.
C.B., please know that laughter is beneficial to one’s health and temper. Suing me will undoubtedly cause you immense stress, which is why (as a caring fellow poet) I am warning you against it. I’m glad you’ve spotted how much I adore the melodious flow of the English language. I will do all in my power to sing its wonders from the rooftops with particular attention to key — I am fully aware that key is key and an off-key poem will be the end of me. C.B., you have made me smile… nervously.
Susan, I always feel that my poetic intelligence increases while I read your work. I laughed and learned and felt better. I enjoyed all three poems, especially “Odd Socks” and its lines:
I hear the chime of mocking cuckoo clocks
As time flits by and frosts my frazzled hair.
Time is a merciless tyrant.
Jan, thank you very much for your encouraging comment. I’m so glad you enjoyed the poems and especially glad they made you laugh. Time is indeed a merciless tyrant — and many spend far too much time worrying about missing socks in a world that needs saving.
Delightful as always. I relish how your words roll off the tongue!
Anna, it’s always lovely to hear from you. I am thrilled you enjoyed my whimsy. Thank you!