Brisk Verse by Garrison Keillor

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Published in 2024, Brisk Verse is a captivating compilation of more than 130 poems by Garrison Keillor. It takes the reader through whimsy and tomfoolery, solemn thought-provoking lines, mischievous observations, and tons of fun. And it’s the perfect gift. Consider taking advantage of this special offer that is available for a limited time.

“Healthful. Invigorating. Good for reading aloud to friends and associates, neighbors, colleagues, bartenders, passersby, even strangers in libraries or on airplanes. One copy of this book will make you the life of the party, a welcome guest in any home, a person of fine taste who also relishes a good time.”

“A slender but meaningful volume of plain-spoken poems meant to be read aloud to proximitous persons to ameliorate dyspepsia and depressive inclinations.”

Softcover, 240 pages, 7” x 10”

Here are a few poems featured in the book:

WINTER LOVE

My dear, I'm sure
Our love is here to stay,
You're my thrill du jour
On a winter day.
You have nice hair, your voice is sweet,
But I love the fact you give off heat
And oxidize as we lie lengthwise,
The best heating pad I ever had.
It feels like July until the day I die
And they lay me in my grave with little microwave
For my protection as I await the Resurrection
When we'll take angelic form and forevermore be warm.

HYMN TO THE FARM

Morning light soft and bright, Wobegon reveals
Early frost, all across farm and woods and fields.
Coffee done, I'll have some, step outside alone,
Look around, set me down, on a slab of stone.
By the barn, cattle turn, murmur in the pen.
Soft and pure, cow manure:
I am home again.

Precious Lord, by your word
Simple gifts are blest.
Let the promise of salvation
Come by daily observation
In this farmyard, Lord, be with us.

My old dog takes his walk, sniffing every tree.
Every smell seems to tell his biography.
Chickens dash 'cross the grass,
Cats patrol the yard;
Seven geese marching east, form an honor guard.
Then the small trumpet call, ringing to the skies
Three loud barks, arf, arf, arf.
Wake up and arise, be in paradise.

PRAYER

Here I am, O Lord, and here is my prayer:
Please be there.
Don't want to ask too much, miracles and such.
Just whisper in the air: please be there.
When I die like other folks,
Don't want to find out You're a hoax.
I'm not on my knees asking for world peace
Or that the polar icecap freeze
And save the polar bear
Or even that the poor be fed
Or angels hover o'er my bed
But I will sure be pissed 
If I should have been an atheist.
Lord, please exist. Thou
Before Whom I bow,
Come to me now.

TEACHERS

Pearson, Hochstetter, Bradley, and Shaver,
Anderson, Story, Moehlenbrock, Faust,
Names I remember for their great kindness
Decades ago in a country schoolhouse.

Moehlenbrock, Pearson, Shaver, and Story,
Anderson, Faust, Hochstetter, and Bradley
Stand by the blackboard in memory's classroom
I hear their voices and think of them gladly.

Shaver, Anderson, Bradley, and Story,
Pearson, Moehlenbrock, Faust, Hochstetter,
Public school teachers, back in my childhood,
Would that I could write them all a love letter.

I was that slight insignificant child,
A B-minus student and painfully shy,
The wire-rimmed glasses, the hand-me-down clothing,
Why do I think of you as time goes by?

Nothing you do for a child is wasted.
Kindness, scholarship, letters, and love.
I sat in the back and looked at the blackboard,
Lincoln and Washington hanging above.

It was only a schoolhouse out in the country,
A high school in a small river town.
But Shakespeare, physics, the owl's bone structure,
Equations, and books, books all around.
Anderson, Hochstetter, Shaver, and Pearson,
Moehlenbrock, Faust, Bradley and Story.
Decades have passed but I see their bright faces
There in the classroom, shining in glory.

Shining in glory, shining in glory,
Your blessed teachers, they shine every one
Always remembered for what they have done,
Always remembered for what they have done.

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