Crazy Sidney Sue

A nonsensical poem about a nonsensical gentleman

I’am sitting on a fountain this mild day,

tapping the inked quill upon my head,

nothing to think, nothing to write,

and there hops Crazy Sidney Sue,

chasing flies and eating birds’ food.

What an odd fellow is he.

Though, he has a sense about him, 

for I fear he thinks of whom I am thinking,

he races over, almost like he would jump on me.

“ A poet lives a simple life, he doesn’t know the value of work.”

He snatched my pen from me,

“ Ladies, and gentlemen,” He said, jumping upon the fountain.

“ I have here, upon my hand, a utensil to write with.”

“ Humbug” Said I, “ Give me back my pen.”

“ Does a poet know any pain? He paints pretty pictures!”

He said throwing the pen.

He came down happy, without a frown.

“ Crazy Sidney Sue,” I said.

“ What about you?

“ You lodge about all day,

chasing flies and such,

is your life very much?”

He brightened, smiled, hopped, and sat right next to me.

“ Why my sir, oh! I say, it is sophisticated....

just sitting upon a fountain this placid day,

combing your hair with a feather!”

“ I would dare not think like that.” I said.

Said he:

“ And you of course,

whom rides on a horse.

Is a poets life full of work?

Sitting down having time to think.

Weird may I be, but, a care I not have.”

Said I:

“Crazy Sidney Sue, why a fellow like you,

you haven’t told me what work you do.”

He chuckled a laugh, hunched real low:

“ The work I do is not a matter to you,

yours not to me. I wonder why I questioned thee?”

Author's Note

Someone had remarked to me that this poem sounds like Dr. Seuss, however I did intend it to be entirely whimsical. (: