The poet William Stafford set himself the task of writing a poem a day. When someone asked him what he would do when his poem-of-the-day wasn't very good, he replied "I simply lower my standards." In order to increase output, the bar here is set at a low level - the point of this is to have some fun with current events and politics. I welcome contributions and comments. Now you can also follow Doggerelo on Twitter (@doggerelo). Because of continuing medical problems, I'm no longer able to post a poem-a-day. I'll continue to post poems, but at a reduced frequency, so please stay tuned.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Romney's Soliloquy

adapted from images from and
To flip or not to flip – that is the question.
Whether ‘tis nobler to maintain conviction
Or take polls amidst a sea of voters
And by flipping, send a message that
I’m on their side. Thus pollsters do make
Cowards of us all. And thus the native
Hue of resolution is sicklied o’er
With blind amibition’s yellow cast and fear
Doth make us but whinging, bloodless things.   
For what would it profit a man if, by ever holding
To conviction’s  core, it bringeth only slings
And arrows of outraged pundits, opprobrium
Of voters and contumely from the rich,
Who'd send their money elsewhere?  'Tis not a path
For one who wants to win. Ah, sweet victory!
Perchance a dream, but of such dreams are noble
Actions made that change the world. The need
Is great and I am ready. The nation hath borne
Too long the foul Obama’s brazen wrongs
And insolence of office. For he would
Of our fair land a Europe make and spurn
The patient merit of our enterprise
To grant boons undue to those who lose
The economic race. O voters wise
And true, what doth it matter what I really
Think if by supporting me we grasp the chance
To free us all from socialism’s threat?
There is no other one that can this task
Accomplish.   Newt Gingrich wouldst make me laugh,
Were not his spectral rise so maddening - 
And they calleth me a flip-flopper!  He hath
On every issue set his standard square
On every side and hath received for this
No single punishment.  His tongue hath not
The discipline to keep a message straight -
He giveth cause to fear his unhinged words
Would turn away those independent minds
Who are the key to our success.  But soft –
The press doth now approach with pointed questions
And from this place I must myself away
To photo ops where I control the day. 

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