The Queen of Cheese Presents: The Tygger

Tygger! Tygger! Bouncing high,

Bumping Hundred Acre Sky,

What intrepid toymaker

Did Stytch thy Joyntes & Stuff thy Furr?

 

And what Rubber, & what Sprynggs

Formed thy soft Internal Things?

When thy legs began to Pogo,

Whence thy Get-Up? Whence thy Go-Go?

 

Does thy Boundless energy

Bounce out? Or is it Bound to thee?

When thou Bounced the Baby Roo

Into the pond, didst thou splash, too?

 

Who did place thy fluff-stuffed head

In a sleeping child’s bed?

While he sleepest, might thou Pounce?

Who can sleep while Tyggers Bounce?

 

And in all thy wondrous fun,

Art thou indeed the only one?

Frame thy playful symmetry:

Did he who made the Pooh make thee?

 

Tygger! Tygger! Bouncing high,

Bumping Hundred Acre Sky–

Softly doth the Bear reply,

Cottleston, Cotlleston, Cottleston pie.

William Blake calls the Poetry Crisis Line

COUNSELOR     Poetry Crisis Line. What is your emergency?

CALLER:      Tyger!

COUNSELOR:      I’m sorry, did you say–

CALLER:      Tyger!

COUNSELOR:      Yes, I suppose you did. Are you sure? Do you have the lights on?

CALLER:      Burning bright.

COUNSELOR:      And where are you?

CALLER:      In the forest of the night.

COUNSELOR:      Is that near Hell’s Kitchen?

CALLER:      What

COUNSELOR:      Never mind. How do you feel at the moment?

CALLER:      Immortal

COUNSELOR:      That’s good. They can smell fear. I’m not sure if that’s synesthesia or a mixed metaphor, but they can. Is there something you can give the animal to distract him?

CALLER:      Hand

COUNSELOR:      Maybe something you don’t need as much.

CALLER:      or eye

COUNSELOR:      I was thinking something that isn’t, you know, attached. Do you think maybe you could…uh…could–

CALLER:      Could frame thy fearsome symmetry

COUNSELOR:      Actually, I’m kind of lopsided. Makes it hard to shop for bras.