of my Tongue is
Tongue in Cheek
But the truth be told and to thine own self be true, yea
I must concede that I am so full of it.
This tenacious tinkerer of subjects and predicates
will soon litter the linguistic landscape
with so many spanking new clichés.
I'll provide the sharp retorts for all future rapier wit.
So many golden apples of scintillating wisdom
will spew forth from my mouth
that even Eve couldn't bite them all,
though to me she'd surely say bite me.
Only God can make a tree,
but my branching web of bon mot (bawn moe)
will shade every adage yet to be.
Bartlett will publish an extra edition,
and dictionaries will need a new addendum
to record my each and every sagacious turn of phrase.
And the next generation of wits and wordsmiths
will moan that I was so full of quotations.
But I will be cited time and time again
by all future and lesser bards
wearing down my inspired proverbs to insipid platitudes.
Soon, in a thousand-daily erudite exchanges you will hear,
"It's not original. It was first written by, it was first
wait it's on the tip of my tongue. Oh yes!"
Then they'll all mention my name,
for sweet is always tasted by the tip of the tongue,
and that's just Fein with me.
If you have any comments on this poem, Richard Fein would be
pleased to hear from you.