POEM: Rutherford

Rutherford was a man
Whose was only
Acceded by his ignorance
And all kinds of people
Parted with his presence
A to know one
Leased of himself
And if you ran into him
In all likely hood
It was he
Who ran into you
A cunning certainty
His very name
Synonymous with first and last

This poem fits into my growing genre of mini-biographies or beginnings of novels.  First, nothing personal to anyone named Rutherford: All characters appearing in this are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I picked the name Rutherford because of its association in the of this punster with ‘ruthless’, or in the case, ‘ruther.’  Also, since the name Rutherford can be used as either a first or last name, the last line of the poem was born.  We have all probably known someone whose negative affect on people was consistent, exceeded only by their lack of of this affect.  Unfortunately, their may have a certain cunning to it, where they make a point of running into you, or most any other nameless rabble that suits them at the moment.  This poem is unusual for me in that it really doesn’t even contain a seed of that is typically in my .  This speaks to the that some people’s dominant role in seems to be serving as a for others.  This too is a , albeit not a most pleasant one.  Fortunately, springs eternal, even amidst regiments of cautionary tales.

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