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