The best poetry books for people who like to laugh

While watching the movie Logan’s Run, I was delighted to hear T.S. Eliot’s charming poem, “The Naming of Cats,” recited by Peter Ustinov’s character.

I tracked down this book and fell in love with all fourteen cat-centric poems. Some are full of surprises. Others are quite tongue-twisty; those smugly dared me to just try to read them aloud.

My cat listened to my efforts to do so. He seemed fascinated by my struggle to enunciate phrases such as “At prestidigitation, and at legerdemain, he'll defy examination, and deceive you again.”

My life is hard to define, but that doesn’t stop me from constantly trying. I’ve got a couple of autobiographies in progress, even though I was convinced that no one cared about the trivialities of my existence.

And then I found Lyndsay Rush. In her poetry, I saw so many of my own little details. To use an overworked cliché, I felt seen.

Through Lyndsay’s words, I realized that in so many ways, it’s not just me. It was never just me. By pointing out the minuscule details that fill our lives, she gave me permission to approve of my own. That is not a bit much. That’s just right.

I’m a completionist. I take pleasure in completing a game or task involving many steps that I can tick off as I go.

A to Z lists thrill me like nothing else can! Seeing different minds tackle the same 26 letters each in their own way, never gets old. I was a grown-up when I first discovered Edward Gorey and found him amusing.

But when I discovered this book, the hairs on the back of my neck tingled. He was taking on the A to Z challenge! And he nailed it. Each line is concise and yet tells me everything I need to know.

It’s a short book, but since each line comes with an illustration showing that letter’s victim’s last moments, it’s worth pausing to savor each page.

Almanac, did you say? Why yes, another delight for completionists like me!

There’s plenty of poetry scattered through these 365 entries, but I’m also intrigued by the satire and history pieces, many of which turn a sharp eye on politics, the environment, equal rights, sex, and more, mostly from a historic point of view. 

I received this book as a Christmas gift in 1980, the year it was published. I still have that copy. Many of the “modern” poetry and prose entries are a bit cringey by today’s standards, but the past is what it is. Reading those often leaves me contemplating the course of history and the changes I have witnessed during my own lifetime.

Whenever I’m feeling blue, I can read one of Joshua Seigal’s crisp, silly poems, and in spite of myself, I’ll smile.

The author must have had a constant grin on his face while writing these poems. This book is proof that poetry doesn’t have to be snooty, deep, or dramatic to be worthy.

To quote from “Fun Poem”, one of my favorites, “This is a fun poem. I demand that you enjoy it.” And guess what? I do. This is a breath of fresh air in a genre often weighted down by its own pretentiousness.