Pride and Prejudice in Poetry

I'm having some photography issues that I hope to work out shortly. In the meantime,
I thought I'd share a poem/film-review that I wrote for the bathroom wall at work
(long story).
ahem....


I must wax poetic about P & P,
for I just bought the box set that’s on DVD.
It’s a tale by Jane Austen that’s chock full o’humor,
and romance, and hijinks and many a rumor.
This BBC version is a 5-hour series.
It’s the best adaptation and it never wearies.
This story’s about a young gal named Lizzie,
and a man, Mr. Darcy, who’s a butthead. Or is he?
Lizzie’s mum is much worse than the poor girl deserves,
always carrying on about her “poor nerves”,
and constantly scheming to get her girls married.
Mum’s antics embarrass and leave Lizzie harried.
If you want sex appeal, of that there’s no dearth,
since Fitzwilliam Darcy is my dear Colin Firth.
It’s so darn fantastic it improves with each viewing-
watching it now is what you should be doing.


You're probably all wondering now why my work hasn't been featured in the finest of poetry journals or maybe TV Guide. I can't explain it myself. I guess it's another example of the tragedy of the misunderstood poet.