Word Play

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Not true! Words can and have hurt people terribly, and they have helped them as well: words of consolation or of profound explanation have had huge positive human effects. So words are serious and consequential—something that needs to be said at the opening of a book that plays with words in many, many ways. But the premise of this writing is that wordplay is very important itself since it allows us to review the experience of our lives when we step back from the frustrations of our children, our jobs, our lousy football teams, our infirmities of age, etc., etc., and to put a humorous twist on difficulties in our lives—a feeling like one gets in the theatre, where another form of plays allows us to see the lighter side of our travails as we watch these enacted as plays and allows us to leave the theatre and go back to our own grindstones.

The particular form of wordplay in this book is an original collection of three hundred short rhymed poems loosely organized around three keynoting North American places: in Florida, Washington, and Ontario, Canada. The book’s subtitle is indicative of the readership to which the work is designed to appeal: "On the road and home again." It is a "travel" book in the tradition of road-tripper books, the kind of diversion one may need in a long car trip for the "are we there yet?" denizens of the backseat. But it is also meant for people homebound by age, illness, or disability or any others who are disinterested in physical travelling but willing enough to read or have read to themand share a laugh with family and Facebook friends who like to pass along their enjoyment of a well-captioned cartoon.

To sum up, this book is not just about words. It is about life and how we can live a greater abundance and quality of it by opening our minds with each and every poem we read or recite to someone else, to a childlike wonder at the incredible privilege we have of living, laughing, and loving on this planet Earth.

A sneak preview of Jerry Rose's work:

A Contrary Gardener

"Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?"

Wait a minute there, inquisitive one, who wants to know?

Are you the jerk I met at the flower show in Tupelo?

And where do you get off calling me contrary, Romeo?

Just because, when you asked me out, I said "no" ?

You wouldn’t appeal to me if you were 100 princes all in a row.

Fatal Attraction

A friend of mine asked me: "Why do you keep writing poems like these?

Some are quite odd and silly. So can you tell me why please?"

I replied to him: "I really can’t help it you know, I’ve contracted the rhymes disease;

Bitten by a nasty bug called an arithme-tic on a visit to the Peruvian Andes.

While the disease is incurable and most likely fatal, let me put you at your ease:

It isn’t contagious, so don’t be alarmed if I should happen to kiss your sister Louise."

Under Pants

"I see England, I see France, I see Jerry’s under pants."

As a college professor, I was able to enact this, one of the most popular of childhood chants.

For a Halloween party, I pulled a pair of white briefs over my outer pants.

Donning as well an overcoat, I offered to "flash" each guest in attendance

By quickly opening and closing my coat to give each flashee of my underpants a brief glance.

I don’t say this act got favorable reviews, but it seemed not to get indignant rants.

-- Jerry Rose