Eccentricity Isn’t
Craziness, It’s Daring
Eccentricity isn't craziness, it’s daring
To the -enth degree:
A caring not what they decree,
Not caring what they think of me.
The unconventional disarming,
Often charming -
What is normal?
Living life like all the rest,
Accepting colorlessness, I guess.
To the -enth degree:
A caring not what they decree,
Not caring what they think of me.
The unconventional disarming,
Often charming -
What is normal?
Living life like all the rest,
Accepting colorlessness, I guess.
Planets are eccentric
And the sun’s just doing fine.
It shines
on planetary quirks,
Sustains the quirk
So that it works.
And the sun’s just doing fine.
It shines
on planetary quirks,
Sustains the quirk
So that it works.
We too can be a sun;
No planet going round,
No moon, but one un-
Usual, bright son-
of a gun
Who does his ‘thing’
Because it is
The only thing to do.
No planet going round,
No moon, but one un-
Usual, bright son-
of a gun
Who does his ‘thing’
Because it is
The only thing to do.
The misfit may not be a genius,
May be mediocre or bizarre.
However, I give honor
To the one who does his thing
Because he sees through
The illu-
sion
Of it all.
May be mediocre or bizarre.
However, I give honor
To the one who does his thing
Because he sees through
The illu-
sion
Of it all.
Harvey and the Eccentric Farmer -- Leah Saulnier
Dear Duane,
Dear Duane,
I saw “Eccentricity Isn’t Daring…” and having forgotten
it, as usual, I looked at the whole again and, as usual, was
discontented and re-wrote. See Arlene Corwin Poetry.com
or Facebook where I’ll re-pubish - if I ever published it at all, which
I doubt. You’ll get some kind of credit, (I always like to mention
your name when I can) so be on the lookout. Here’s the ‘new’ one:
Eccentricity Isn’t Craziness, It’s Daring
Eccentricity isn ‘t craziness, it’s daring
To the -enth degree:
A caring not what they decree,
Not caring what they think of me.
The unconventional disarming,
Often charming -
What is normal?
Living life like all the rest,
I guess accepting colorlessness.
Planets are eccentric
And the sun’s just doing fine.
It shines on planetary quirks,
Sustains the quirk so that it works.
So,
We too can be a sun;
No planet going round,
No moon, but one
Unusual, bright son-of-a gun
Who does his ‘thing’ because it is
The only thing that makes things run,
The only thing that makes life fun
The misfit may not be a genius,
May be middling or bizarre.
Having said that, I give honor
To the one who does his thing
Since he sees through
The illusion, the delusion, the chimère . 
In 1867 admiral William Henry Smyth published "The Sailor's Word-Book" in which he defined "son of a gun" as "an epithet conveying contempt in a slight degree, and originally applied to boys born afloat, when women were permitted to accompany their husbands to sea; one admiral declared he literally was thus cradled, under the breast of a gun-carriage." Apparently the phrase referred to birthed that occurred between the broadside guns in order to keep the gangways and crew decks clear. Eventually the term evolved into an expression of someone "affectionately or kindly regarded" and may also be an interjection indicating surprise, mild annoyance, or disappointment.
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