The Vowels, Summer 1914

by Charles Troob


Awkward and sad, A snarls at
cheerless E.  E seethes, then belches, feels better, decks
I, big in shipping, rich, swinish.  I grips birch twigs, whips
posh droll bottom boy O.  Loss of control spooks O, who sobs, “won’t go on,”
jumps up, slugs butch hunk U.   Unhurt but dumbstruck, U turns, grunts, struts,
grabs and stabs A, and a war starts.


Charles Troob wrote these for Sarah White’s poetry group. Occasionally he gets lucky and something good comes out.  Enjoy!