I'll use it to steady a rocket. (The next day he and his son went to shoot off model rockets and were happy the 'breeze guard' worked well.)
Thanks Neesy... The brain will be coming up with answers all evening.
Ten Minute Poetry Exercise
- Thread starter Bryan James
- Start date
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Thanks Neesy... The brain will be coming up with answers all evening.
Too Sweet for Ants
Distant horizons speed sideways under weather reports
And The Thing listened, the commercials in his sleepground teeth
Zazzing it up real fine, dumbing down life with a swig
Because Hendrix is cooler dead and truth is the final luxury.
Grandma time was only once a year and wasn’t it fine
To smell (and take a quick taste) of shoeshine since
Dress shoes are always dull, but churchwood scratched there with a
Tender rubbed profanity is cosmicomedy raw and it was not Sunday.
Children’s funerals smell like Murphy’s Oil Soap
And taste like burnt sugartea.
Perfect little sandwiches cut the crusts a-missing
And the girl in the coffin
Has no head.
Abigail Dancer, dimples two, truck-ground raw—a pulpy stew
Slid down the moss, slid down the rock, slid down my dream
And draped on a newspaper rack.
Buck and a half, with Wednesday coupons,
When off-brand TP does not insult the worldhole.
Reality reported is thereby distorted, no matter the logo on the van.
So perfect all the all would be in her state of ex-sanguinity,
Clotted, cleaned, and drained between,
Satin sheeted, girlslit pleated
Just a little rouge is needed
Head sewn on, though, superceded,
American Idoled, for all time,
Cookiedoughgirl unmilked by Disney,
Ground to dust too sweet for ants.
The child I will never have to lose.
Distant horizons speed sideways under weather reports
And The Thing listened, the commercials in his sleepground teeth
Zazzing it up real fine, dumbing down life with a swig
Because Hendrix is cooler dead and truth is the final luxury.
Grandma time was only once a year and wasn’t it fine
To smell (and take a quick taste) of shoeshine since
Dress shoes are always dull, but churchwood scratched there with a
Tender rubbed profanity is cosmicomedy raw and it was not Sunday.
Children’s funerals smell like Murphy’s Oil Soap
And taste like burnt sugartea.
Perfect little sandwiches cut the crusts a-missing
And the girl in the coffin
Has no head.
Abigail Dancer, dimples two, truck-ground raw—a pulpy stew
Slid down the moss, slid down the rock, slid down my dream
And draped on a newspaper rack.
Buck and a half, with Wednesday coupons,
When off-brand TP does not insult the worldhole.
Reality reported is thereby distorted, no matter the logo on the van.
So perfect all the all would be in her state of ex-sanguinity,
Clotted, cleaned, and drained between,
Satin sheeted, girlslit pleated
Just a little rouge is needed
Head sewn on, though, superceded,
American Idoled, for all time,
Cookiedoughgirl unmilked by Disney,
Ground to dust too sweet for ants.
The child I will never have to lose.
Writed straight from a dream, so I'm sure my eventual Shrink will want to spend a few months on it...
I cheated a tad. This one issued forth fast-like, but I tweaked a few words over time, so not a 10 Minute Candidate for The No Award ceremony.
RE: Above ~~ I like the haiku stuffs (and the limericks). I have a bunch of the former...don't like the restrictions of the latter, which means I need to write one.
I cheated a tad. This one issued forth fast-like, but I tweaked a few words over time, so not a 10 Minute Candidate for The No Award ceremony.
RE: Above ~~ I like the haiku stuffs (and the limericks). I have a bunch of the former...don't like the restrictions of the latter, which means I need to write one.
At my wife's work at Valentine's Day they had a poetry/poem contest. She had started one the night before four or five lines left a note on the counter asked could I help her out. Had to use the word sweetest and be work-related. I think I spent more than ten minutes on it so it does not count here. Plus I did not save a copy...the one I printed out she brought in to work. But the poem won the prize...I can't remember all of the loot involved although one part of the prize was a gift certificate to Habanaro's and she used that last night when she went out with friends she's known since high school...brought home some...casa verde? casa dee-ah? Pizza-shaped wedges of flaky crust sandwiching chicken and pork stuff with three toppings you could put on them...sour cream...salsa...and guacamole. She also shared the loot with the two others who work with her at the local branch.
And the other day a radio station contacted me...again...they have this new thing they're going to try...some sort of story-related thing that will change each day aired between ten and twelve on the Wolf...to do w/the Tigers. I think I missed the boat...Vicki did say when I asked how long I had to think about it that there's two spots for advertising...I'm self-employed. I heard the Ozark Mountain Daredevils on the Wolf as I drove to work...If You Want To Get To Heaven...and I thought that theme if you will would make a great ad related to my work. I've had the radio stations come up with ads for me and I've invented some, too. One was a big hit...and we can't self-promote here otherwise I'd...do something...try to provide a link...or I think I have a recording downloaded on my computer. Anyway, I'm in the Wal-Mart parking lot...business-related signage on my truck...and some guy in the parking lot starts talking to me about how he'd been out in the yard cutting wood, had just heard my "song"...and couldn't get it out of his head. He enjoyed it. But opinion was divided as I received one anonymous snail-mail hate letter.
And the other day a radio station contacted me...again...they have this new thing they're going to try...some sort of story-related thing that will change each day aired between ten and twelve on the Wolf...to do w/the Tigers. I think I missed the boat...Vicki did say when I asked how long I had to think about it that there's two spots for advertising...I'm self-employed. I heard the Ozark Mountain Daredevils on the Wolf as I drove to work...If You Want To Get To Heaven...and I thought that theme if you will would make a great ad related to my work. I've had the radio stations come up with ads for me and I've invented some, too. One was a big hit...and we can't self-promote here otherwise I'd...do something...try to provide a link...or I think I have a recording downloaded on my computer. Anyway, I'm in the Wal-Mart parking lot...business-related signage on my truck...and some guy in the parking lot starts talking to me about how he'd been out in the yard cutting wood, had just heard my "song"...and couldn't get it out of his head. He enjoyed it. But opinion was divided as I received one anonymous snail-mail hate letter.
You can self promote now in this area on the board.
The Unwanted Tenant
The rude lump broke through the skin as dessert was being served. Its arrival a moist discomfort. Fingers can be talked out of truths hidden in fleshy depths. Visual introductions are harder to deny.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve made a grave error,” she said to the pale, hard squatter. “You’ve not been invited. Yet, here you are and you’ve redecorated.”
Indifferent, the mass sent deep roots, growing fat and happy, suckling her breast like a baby.
The rude lump broke through the skin as dessert was being served. Its arrival a moist discomfort. Fingers can be talked out of truths hidden in fleshy depths. Visual introductions are harder to deny.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve made a grave error,” she said to the pale, hard squatter. “You’ve not been invited. Yet, here you are and you’ve redecorated.”
Indifferent, the mass sent deep roots, growing fat and happy, suckling her breast like a baby.
quite disturbing. good job!
i wrote most of this or all of it a couple years ago while driving home from work. while i can't recommend writing while driving, i think it excuses my possibly more than ten minute write period, and the fact that i didnt watch the clock to see how long it took. however, i think it was pretty close, and since this isnt a contest, i will take (hehe) poetic license and excuse my own breach of the guideline. enjoy, or dont. your choice. i recommend the former.
for the fallen
Lately i feel bugged,
it's like i can't get no respect
but to be fair to the criticizers
my life's a worthless wreck
with all the promises i've broken
and all the lives i've helped to ruin
i might be dead inside but look around-
the world's a living tomb
innocence on earth has been
just a myth for centuries
ever since we crucified the one
to protect our pride and greed
it would be easy to give up
and throw my hands up in the air
but there's no use in pointing out
because God knows it ain't fair
What i'm feeling may be
par for the fallen
by now i should have folded but it's too late,
i'm all in
the scratch can't satisfy the itch but that won't prevent the digging
disaster is my destiny and im ready to begin
anyone heard of the sinead o'connor album 'i do not want what i haven't got'? what a great philosophy. i wish i could have a philosophy like that, but alas...
too dry? hehe.
too dry? hehe.
sounds like 2 wins to me. the one who couldnt get your jingle out of his head and the guy who REALLY couldnt get your jingle out of his head lol.
unmaker said:
It's a good poem, sad/tough going, but well laboured...
Why do you believe disaster is your destiny unmaker? You have options; you are a beloved child of the universe, a creator of your own destiny, why manifest a disaster?
dont preach uninvited, lest ye be preached to. also, dont take every syllable of every poem 100% literally; if you do that, you will be a bewildered human indeed. and disaster, for me, manifests itself.
that being said, i do believe your heart is in the right place, and i thank you for your sentiment.
Thanks unmaker. I'm not big on 'preaching' (and all the negative connotations) or want to lecture. The tone of your poem felt as though you were really unhappy with yourself. Was gently saying you are beloved, even if you don't feel that way about yourself right now. Also, simply, that you have power to create your destiny or life in the way you want it.
Thankee Sai, glad you took what I was saying in the way I meant.
yeah, i think i do. my point is that poetry shouldnt be a means of psychological evaluation (at least not in this forum) so much as it should be... well, it should be whatever it is. poetry can evoke emotions and thought, help us to see ourselves, or to see another person more deeply... or a number of other possible effects. being examined through that glass felt inappropriate is all. if you want to really despair about my emotional condition, you should read some of my other work here unmaker :: Original Poetry :: Write. Learn. Share. . are we in the self promotion thread? if not, check for the link there. also, i may add it to my profile here.
We are... and thank you for the opportunity for us to post a reminder. It is absolutely fine for people to link to their poetry off-site, we have been talking about/reviewing whether it is okay to post original poetry in these threads and it has been decided from the top that people should only link to their work, rather than post to the threads from here on out--just to protect Stephen from any future legal issues.
Thanks everyone.
