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Tuesday, September 4th, 2012

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Now that the lake at Cheesequake State Park is closed to swimming for the season, my brain wants to rhyme Cheesequake with Lake. So, naturally, the best bad poem of all time is running through my head. We have seen thee, Queen of Cheese/Lying quietly at thy ease, etc.

It's a lovely park, with salt marsh and sweetwater, cedar swamp and pine barrens, hardwood forest and open fields. More to the point, it has picnic areas suitable for holding a Bad Poetry Party, such as I threw in the days of yore. Maybe when the leaves turn, or in April during National Poetry Month, I'll have to host one of those again.

The place name itself is a bad Anglicization of a Lenape place name that translates as the land that has been cleared. It sounds cooler in Lenape. From this small sample of actual Lenape poetry, it looks like most things would.

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