NOTE: I wrote this simple rhyme as an assignment for a class called Postmodern Visual Arts. Every week of the semester each student had to find art in a place that was not typically associated with art, and write a short essay about it. This poem is what I turned in for on of those weekly assignments. The poetry part was voluntary, but my Professor enjoyed it.

Ode to the Commode

Ascending gracefully from the floor,

Like a lustrous, glossy dove,

Stark white, it reflects the light,

Thrown upon it from above.

Branching from a narrow dais,

To an elegant oval bowl,

It has no eyes with which to see us,

From the depths of its ceramic soul.

Topped by a pristine round edged box,

With just a hint of curve and grace,

Stands stout and robust like an ox,

Keeping the next flush in place.

The water's Tidy-Bowl blue,

The willing handle, chrome and sleek,

Waits quietly for me and you,

To saunter in and take a seat.

© John Greenwood 2004