Scholars

I have always thought of my grandmother as a wonderful poet, and just extremely intelligent and witty in general. She wrote this poem back in the 1940s when she was one of the few women graduate students at NYU during WWII as a silly little diddle to keep herself occupied. She never published any of her stuff, but when I happened to find the old paper this was scribbled on, she liked the idea of my posting this anonymously on here for her. So I am not the author, she is.


Scholars in profusion
Are imbued with the delusion
That things are never really what they seem.

And with fearful cogitation,
Fierce thought, and concentration
They will twist the simplest fact
And make it scream.

And to add to the confusion
They have made their own conclusions
That they can find the answer to it all.

When really it's quite simple
Just relax- enjoy the ample
Things that lie in wait for us
Outside our door.