My Last Tooth

It has been suggested by some gentle readers that I make "very bad poetry" a regular feature of this blog.

When my youngest child was about twelve, one of our favorite things to do together was to read really bad poetry out loud to each other. Waiting rooms were a favorite venue for this activity. We would always begin to giggle, and the pressure to maintain some degree of decorum in public, coupled with the hilarity of the subject matter, would inevitably result in our breaking down completely.

This was our favorite poem, written in the 1890s by an unknown poet:

My Last Tooth

You have gone, old tooth,
Though hard to yield,
You have long stood alone,
Like a stub in the field.

Farewell, old tooth...
That tainted my breath,
And tasted as smells
a woodpecker's nest.