My (fourth) annual year-in-review poem is here:
In last year’s recapping of two-thousand-and-eight
(a lame bit of rapping and my third one to date),
I had the chutzpa to wish yours and mine
a much better year in two-thousand-and-nine.
Who knew I’d be pining for those days of yore,
Before I knew just what was in store,
From warfare in Gaza and rabbis in trouble,
And the lasting effects of the real estate bubble.
Wait — there’s more.
And if you care to compare my effort to the Forward‘s, see here.