Hobo Renee
May 30th, 2003, 12:24 AM
A while back I was talking about some poem that I had to write, and the idea of turning Witman's "O Captain, my Captain" into a poem about Captain Crunch was suggested. Well, many months later, here it is. "Copyright" Hobo Renee:)
O CAPTAIN! my Captain Crunch! our fearful trip is done;
The stomach has weather’d hungry time, the prize we sought is won;
The box is near, the crunch I hear, the children all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady spoon, the vessel grim and daring:
O cereal! cereal! cereal! 5
O the food coloring of red,
Where in the bowl my Cereal lies,
Fallen tasty crunch.
2
O Captain! my Captain Crunch! rise up and hear the hunger;
Rise up—for you the carton is emptied—for you the milk is poured; 10
For you commercials and in-store displays—for you the cash is paid;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain Crunch! dear father!
This bowl is held out to you;
Many dream for, 15
Your fallen tasty crunch.
3
My Captain does not answer, his lips are cartoon and false;
My father does not hear my cry, he has corporate interests in mind;
The cereal is horded’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful shelf, the victor customer, comes in with object won; 20
Exult, O register, and ring, O bells!
And I, with expectant palate,
Open the box where my Captain lies,
Fallen tasty crunch.
O CAPTAIN! my Captain Crunch! our fearful trip is done;
The stomach has weather’d hungry time, the prize we sought is won;
The box is near, the crunch I hear, the children all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady spoon, the vessel grim and daring:
O cereal! cereal! cereal! 5
O the food coloring of red,
Where in the bowl my Cereal lies,
Fallen tasty crunch.
2
O Captain! my Captain Crunch! rise up and hear the hunger;
Rise up—for you the carton is emptied—for you the milk is poured; 10
For you commercials and in-store displays—for you the cash is paid;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain Crunch! dear father!
This bowl is held out to you;
Many dream for, 15
Your fallen tasty crunch.
3
My Captain does not answer, his lips are cartoon and false;
My father does not hear my cry, he has corporate interests in mind;
The cereal is horded’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful shelf, the victor customer, comes in with object won; 20
Exult, O register, and ring, O bells!
And I, with expectant palate,
Open the box where my Captain lies,
Fallen tasty crunch.