It’s Thrilling, It’s Thrilling, there is another Trilling

 

 

IT’S THRILLING, IT’S THRILLING, THERE IS ANOTHER TRILLING

 

 

Prefatory Note:

 

In “An Unfinished Woman,”

Lillian Hellman relates that

Theodore Roethke once asked

her to complete a poem which

started with the line, “It’s

Thrilling, it’s thrilling,

there is another Trilling.”

 

 

It’s thrilling, it’s thrilling, there is another Trilling

Her name’s Diana, and she’s meek Lionel’s wife

A lioness, a loud mouth, licentiously she’s swilling

Bourbon, by the bucket, and contemplating strife

 

That cabal, of commies, in Columbia so willing

To disrupt and corrupt a civilized, sweet life

Of gardened, partied, prickly prose instilling

An aristocratic posture, cutting like a knife

 

She glares, and flares, at the rebels’ top billing

The student dissidents, bursting, beaming, blithe

It’s clear, their politics, is making quite a killing

Turning staid ivy halls into something rather rife

 

As they gleam, careen and cast a red-raged sheen

On a blue blooded canvass of Henry James novels

Perverting, and subverting, with their psychodelic spleen

A hot purple haze oozing magic mystery marvels

 

Sorely shocked, Diana defrocks, the Maoists in our midst

Expelling, and repelling, wanton war weary hordes

She exclaims, with great disdain, how dare they raise their fist

As they protest, to put to rest, the shining and swift swords

 

Sent to savage and ravage in a teeming, toxic jungle

Vietnam, after the prom, where the blue collar go

Diana snickers that those boys made quite a bungle

Should have had more conviction and bellowed “tally ho”

 

So she frets, youth is a pest, something to detest

Like Gertie Stein, she declaims, “that generation’s lost”

We never took the time to invest to be the best

Did not sacrifice to study no matter what the cost

 

We weren’t nice, mincing mice, Hegels for Hubert Humphrey

Exalting all the wars like obedient German Boors

We believed, were not deceived, and were vehemently free

You may kvetch, like a  wretch, but our surging spirit soars

Copyright, David Gottfried, 2004

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