No Excuses Poetry Corner
Revising this to make my intentions more clear...
Poetry is fun. I'd like to hear poetry of all kinds. Not just from "experts" - but your average "Joe" or "Jane"
"Bad" such a subjective term...
Even BAD BAD BAD poetry might make you laugh - it might make you cry... sometimes it might make you ask "Wha?!"
Ditch the inner critic and let it all hang out.
Let's have at it!!!
:-) fireworks!
Hey.....
what about for those of us unrepressed firecrackers?
We can likes it too! :-)
Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite!!!
Bastille Day is Next Week!!!!!
Unrepressed
I just figure you unrepressed peeps don't need any coaxing.
Please feel free - indulge! 
Found this one written on a receipt in my car...
(Spring)
Stark brown branches
bleeding buds of color
onto the dry landscape
Robin's egg blue sky
dappled with grey white clouds
on the horizon
Vibrant green
pushing its way across
a dead, brown landscape
Brown and white scarred tree limbs
trying in vain
to resist the inevitable change
Not Tasty... a collection of Haiku verse
The rude coworker
eating at their desk loudly
their mouth wide open
crunch crunch ssluuuuuuuuurpp SNORT cough
smell your meal sliding like snot
into my nose.... gross
sneezing mouth open
share your pestilence -- so nice
you are not alone
This certainly will give my identity away for some...
...just that I know the great author who penned this one.
This was sent around the office, and I have to say... it's one of the best poems I've ever read.
Lo! Yon donut...
Lo! Yon donut! So soft and so fair!
With luscious aroma that sweetens the air!
Yon donut that calls to me, frosted desire!
Yon donut that tosses my will to the fire!
Oh! Mighty donut! Thy hole a great eye
That searcheth my soul, and maketh me cry!
Oh! Mighty donut! Why art thou so cruel?
Oh! Mighty donut! Thou maketh me drool!
Hail thee donut, hail! Fresh from the vat!
Loaded with sugar!
Soaked up with fat!
Lo! Yon mighty donut!
My resolve belongs to thee!
Awwww....
That was so sweet....
And somewhat crumby....
I believe I recognize this work--though it's a translation from the Middle English. The stanza division points to the yeasty school, and the subject matter probably means it's the work of the Norman poet, Sir Cinna de' mon de la Campagne. I know of his work from this surviving snippet of a longer piece "Sur Chocolat' ":
Whan that tendre morsel
From my lippes falle,
That dark spark,
Yet so wondrous faire,
From curteisye I would feine lette lie,
And yette doth lust direct my wandering ye
And on eech fallen piece moost I pounce.
This author is fond of confections as you will see...
Oh Cupcake! My Cupcake!
(with apologies to Walt Whitman)
O Cupcake! My Cupcake! Your fearful job is done,
You've weathered well the oven rack, baked golden like the sun,
The sprinkles near, the frosting smeared, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the paper cups, the colors bold and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the carb count that I read,
And on the floor my diet lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Cupcake! My Cupcake! Rise up and send the smells;
Rise up -- for you the taste buds wait -- their appetites you quell,
For you, cream clouds and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the passions burning,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Cupcake! Sweet yummy!
You fill my heart with dread!
It is some dream that on the floor,
My diet's cold and dead.
My Cupcake does not speak, it sits there calm and still,
My tasty does not feel my hand, it has no pulse nor will,
And yet I feel it's taunting me, and I have come undone,
I lose the fight and take a bite. So the confection's won.
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the floor my diet lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Cupcake
An office chock full o'talent - poetic rewrite of a song....
I guess Bohemian Rhapsody IS about Jeff's kids in the car...
(Jeff starts:)
Any way the car goes,
Doesn’t really matter,
To meeeeeeee.
To me.
(Son starts:)
Papa…
Talk to this brat…
Drew a line right down the seat…
But right now she’s touching me…
Papa…
The trip has just begun…
And I know that she’ll annoy me all the way…
Papa…
Ooooooo….
Soon I’m gonna cry…
And I’m not gonna stop until tomorrow…
I’ll carry on and carry on…
Until I make it matter…
(Daughter starts:)
Papa…
Tell me how come…
You let this dumb brother of mine
Go on whining all the time…
Bugging everybody…
Putting on a show…
Blaming me for everything despite the truth…
Papa…
Ooooooo…
I swear he’s gonna die.
I sometimes wish he’d never been born at all.
(Guitar solo)
I see her blanket sneaking over to my side,
Make her scootch! Make her scootch!
She’s a cow and a hippo!
He’s a little liar! Can I set him on fire, please!
You’re a butthead!
You’re a butthead!
You’re a butthead!
You’re a butthead!
You’re a butthead!
You’re a butthead!
You’re a butthead and hippo.
Not a hippooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!
You’re just poop brain! Stupid and ugly!
You’re just a turd face! Better not look at me!
I’ll punch your nose and I’ll knock out your teeth!
Here she comes, there she goes, touched me with her toes…
I did not… NO!
She touched me with her toes…
Not my tooooes!
That hip-po -- touched me with her toes…
No hipoooooooo!
That hip-po – touched me with her toes…
No no no!
Touched me with her toes…
No no no!
Touched me with her toes!
No no no no -- no -- no – no -- no!
Mama mia, mama mia, Mom she touched me with her toes.
He won’t shut up, but if he doesn’t then I’ll have to scream…
I’ll scream…
I’ll screeeeeeeeeeeeeeam…
(Guitar power chords)
You kids think you can bicker and argue and moan!
I just want to turn ‘round and leave all of you home!
Oooooo… children…
You can’t do this to me children…
Don’t you make me stop…
Don’t you make me stop this car…
Oooooo
Oooooo
Oooooo
Oooo-yeah. Oooo-yeah.
When I’ve got my Bud Light
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters…
Nothing really matters…
To meeeee…
Any way the car goes…
(Gong)
Chock full o'talent
McDonald's Chick theme song, (to the tune of American Pie)
(penned by the same coworker and a friend)
A long, long time ago, I can still remember,
How the Big Macs used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance, I would eat those fries from France,
And we could all be happy for a while.
But January made me shiver,
With every milk shake I delivered.
Cause now I don't eat critters.
It just gives me the jitters.
I can't remember if I cried,
When I read about her scoured hide.
But something touched me deep inside.
The day... the Heifer... died...
Bye, bye, Miss McDonald's chick *sigh*,
Drove my Toyota the the restaurant and sold Apple Pie,
And the good old boys had a quarter pounder with fry,
singing the cholesterol's going to make me die,
the cholesterol's going to make me die.
Did you read the Book of Love and do you have faith in God above, if the Bible tells you so?
Then how can you kill baby cows, chickens, fish, and hogs and sows,
And slap them on a bun of sour dough?
I know that you're in love with them,
But you really need an at-home gym.
Shame shame shame on you...
For eating all that fast food!
I'm a lonely veggie chick in hell,
Working in a burger joint until
I'm driven crazy by the smell...
The day... the heifer died...
And we were singin'...
Bye, bye, Miss McDonald's chick *sigh*,
drove my Toyota the the restaurant and sold Apple Pie,
And the good old boys had a quarter pounder with fry,
singing the cholesterol's going to make me die,
the cholesterol's going to make me die.
Another poem - A Haiku from a coworker
A Haiku by Mike Vollmer
A Healthy Potluck
Not favored by some, a shame
Let's eat lots of food
Columbus Avenue
Columbus Avenue
Waiting in the car,
2:30 am, Columbus Avenue.
Closing my eyes
I remember being five
And trying to sleep.
Thinking--but it's not dark
With eyes closed.
I can still see.
I can see inside.
A sharp noise of heels on the sidewalk.
Sound carries in the cold.
A woman briefly appears
In the circle
Beneath the street light,
One of the smaller islands.
Opening the door
to the cold air
the early morning silences
and you.
My one aloneness
Trails out and down the street
And follows the sound
Of retreating steps.
Alone
Sin City-esque
Alone
Wow...
I'm no expert on how poems should be constucted. Somehow the form of this one - just having no structure to the stanzas adds to the chaos and "emptiness" feeling I walk away with after reading it. I'm not sure I know how to do that - the words you've chosen are evokative - only the words you need, only the distinct images you need - in order to present the sorrow of the situation.
It seems to have quite a few layers to it too.
I felt cold, and sad - even abandoned after reading that.
Emptiness
This was recalling a time in my life when I was lonely pretty often--I actually remember this particular moment though as being one in which I felt like I was alone but not lonely--sort of savoring the experience of being aware. I really was sitting in a car on Columbus Ave. (waiting to pick up my roommate)--later I was thinking about the kind of serendipity (synchronicity?) of that--of discovery...looking inside and then out. Feeling connected to that woman and to that feeling of walking the street when it's late and no one seems to be around (yes, she probably was a street walker, but there was feeling of independence--or at least that's what I projected onto her. And also that feeling of waiting in cars--sitting in a car by yourself--there's something about that that seems analagous to isolated individuality, and opening the door to someone else and to the world in general--its smells and changes in temperature and all of that--like giving up that isolation.
Heh--not quite so brief in my analytic mode of writing, lol.
Re: Emptiness
Ah... the "film noir" comment above helped me understand my reaction to this and the feelings I brought into the narrative as I saw it.
I very much see the connections there - feeling the woman ... the imagery very powerful indeed, but the cooperative connection is never made.
Your example of "street walker" here... and isolated individuality... very much things I think that the positive side of such things is often portrayed in those film noir type films - Sin City included.
I am able to see the strong side of these characters in those films often, but I personally lament at the lack of connection. The street walker that's confident of herself enough to fight her way through a crappy world and keep her "soul" in tact - is still missing that connection that makes us all "human". It's good to be ok - more than ok - solid, standing on your own outside of any type of relationship. But from there ... it seems to me that it just leaves me hoping for the next healthy step in the paradigm... the compassion - the sharing of passion... the connectedness.
It's not sad in a broken/obsessive way... but sad in a wishful way to me.
Ah, right...
Being aware
A Poem My Son Wrote
I'm posting one my son wrote when he was eight. He's mostly writing short stories now. Might post something of mine sometime too. :-)
Slow and green.
I am the ghost
White and pale.
If you don’t believe
In me
I’ll grow old.
I’ll grow stale.
I am the green rock
Jagged and cracked.
I am the cliff
Long been stepped on.
I am the spirits
Of the long forgotten animals.
I am the dragonfly
Who spreads its wings.
Always swimming.
I am the dragon
Breathing my fire.
I am the steps
Leading to triumph.
I am your friend.
I am your soul.
I am the poet
Writing this poem.
I loved it too
I love it!
This poem took me through all the elements -through nature and back.
Your son IS awesome. Heh. He is.
8? EIGHT?!?!?!
Everlasting Journey
Walking
in the evening with my lover
is it still or am I breathing?
I'm so lost within this moment
so peaceful
to have found a love so rare
Wonder
at the star bejeweled skyline
and the sparkle of the fireflies
Heavens shine within us spoken
through nature
witness our love everywhere
Ablush
So enraptured by my senses
I can feel you though we don't touch
avidity will overcome and
consume me
decadent without a care
Wicked
hedonistic we make moonlight
wandering our walking steps have
undertones of boundless magic
My love the
universe is ours to share
Lovely poem
Independence, liberty & freedom for the romantically repressed
I give you "fireworks" and sweet, wild abandon...
Sizzle *pop* BANG OOOOoooo
Are there fireworks outside too?
Sly contented grin