Poems (About A Poet & A Poetess)

Posted 03-16-2001 at PFFA.


A Poem (About A Poet)

there once was a poet named e e
no "."s or ","s for he e
but! for 1 or 2 pieces
he signed the relieces
etc.) and capitalized "SHE" e

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Posted 03-16-2001 at PFFA.


A Poemess (About A Poetess)

There once was a Poet named Emily
Whose off-rhymes tended toward simile.
To use the long dash
-- she had a large stash --
Was the topic of one editor's homily.

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I like the Cummings one.

The Non-Skier

Posted 09-16-2001 at PFFA.


The Non-Skier

In the warm and cozy lodge,
my head is mighty jolly
with a potent spicy rum
and ladies most demure.
I'll have a rumbling belly laugh
at their husbands' errant folly:
they hit the slopes with proper whoosh
but their lassies're mine, for sure.

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It was fun finding the rhymes on this one. An example of amphisbaenic or backward rhyme:
(stop / pots : lame / mail).

Quick Sonnets: At Superhero 101 with Maven Hawk (a.k.a. The RAVER!) / The Harbinger of Inkling (exclusive)

Posted 02-09-2008 at PFFA.


At Superhero 101 with Maven Hawk (a.k.a. The RAVER!)

Some hay awoke me, katzenjammer loud
and whirling. Swish by my ear - fooh. It lit
the wall. Had I had half the time allowed
I could have stifled it. I could not hit
a barn door, though, for all my drowsing senses.
This circumstance crops up on training day:
time-shackled managers cut loose, climb fences,
dream big, don capes, oh bright menagerie!

The right sightline can bend your arrow home.
Remember how to see through grit and gauze.
A shimmy-belt will do, and with a comb,
your hair shall not distract. And just because
your super powers manifest as muscle,
well, so do ours. Now, let me see some hustle.

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Quick sonnet. I'm hoping to pitch this as a movie.

---

Wrote "The Harbinger of Inkling" (27 mins.) mid-February, 2009. Exclusive to Formalist Saurian!


The Harbinger of Inkling

Hark! Back to the airport remains! Alack,
the mule retreat explicitly denied
my way. I feared I would not make it back
to register my ticket. Pick your ride
like you would pick your girlfriend, or a wife.
I guess a mile or two would change the map
I had in '89. It changed my life
of woe and pain, just like a thunderclap.
I'm lying. I am prepping fluted shrooms,
won't take a minute. Oh, I've been remiss,
my hosting duties! Howzyerdringg? Those booms
will calm themselves. I have seen worse than this.
Vodka. He shook his head against the thought.
Return, go back. They'll scan it. You'll be caught.

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Um, quick sonnet. So bad, it's going exclusively to my blog. I'll be revising, of course.

A Haiku (That Is Pure, Liquid Trash)

Posted 04-04-2001 at PFFA.


A Haiku (That Is Pure, Liquid Trash)

There once was a man
named Basho (means "banana")
who lived in a hut.

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Pure, liquid trash.

Song For Her Boyfriend

Posted 09-25-2005 at PFFA.


Song For Her Boyfriend

You twit. You flit and point your beak to feed at slits, but still
your wings mesh easily with sky when you control your trill.
Hummingbird Bill, we'll feast on flies and spiderweb a nest!
And hum the rest.

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For the "Bestiary" challenge at the Poetry Free-For-All.

Triolets

Canvas (A Triolet)

The artist's first expression is
an unmarked canvas on the wall.
A stretch with no impurity
the artist's first expression is.
The oils are mixed explicitly
to flow with horsehair's glide and fall.
The artist's first expression is:
an unmarked canvas on the wall.

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Laundromats (A Triolet)

The poet writes in laundromats.
The inspiration comes in tides.
Until the clothes are folded flat,
the poet writes. In laundromats
you cannot wash your velvet hats
or take the dryer for a ride.
The poet writes in laundromats;
the inspiration comes! More Tide.

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I wrote Canvas immediately after learning what a triolet was. I screwed it up. The form is somewhat forgiving, though, and has let me write a few decent ones over the years...

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Posted 12-04-2000 at PFFA.


I am a germ. I do not wish
to frighten you. You are my host,
provident, my nourishment.
I am a germ. I do not wish
to leave this moist environment,
in Petri dish to be enclosed!
I am a germ. I do not wish
to frighten you. You are my host.

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Posted 03-27-2002 at PFFA.


Because I never knew his smile,
God bless my oldest brother George.
I choose a photo from the pile
because I never knew his smile.
I prop it here and pray a while,
the only bond that I can forge
because I never knew his smile.
God, bless my oldest brother George.

(for Helen & John)

On the Topic of What Makes One Greatly Admire and/or Appreciate the Continent of Europe

Posted 01-19-2006 at PFFA.


On the Topic of What Makes One Greatly Admire
and/or Appreciate the Continent of Europe

There once was a lady in Europe
whose foot would get caught in the stirrup
during doctor's exams.
It would tense up her hams
and make her squirt pure maple syrup.

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I like this one. From a challenge at PFFA.

Little Willy

Posted 02-10-2002 at the Poetry Free-For-All.


Little Willy

Willy had a sister, Rita.
Willy also had a cheetah
just in case his mom said, "Mister,
pucker up and kiss your sister!"

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Harry Graham (apparently) is to be blamed for this nasty little "ruthless" form. "Little Willies" (again, apparently) may be found in several different meters and lengths, though the one I've chosen seems the best to me. And sometimes they're not even about Willy. That's actually kind of understandable.

What Really Happened in the Cretaceous

(It only took 7+ years! The revised poem follows the rougher draft.)

Posted 01-06-2002 at the Poetry Free-For-All:


What Really Happened in the Cretaceous

Rompity-Stompity
Rex, the tyrannosaur,
wrote with unmetrical
feet in his work.

Doubledactylicus,
formalist saurian,
published his treatise and
then went berserk.

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I would probably amend this thusly:


What Really Happened in the Cretaceous

Fondle-a-Rondelet
Rex, the tyrannosaur,
wrote with unmetrical
feet in his work.

Doubledactylicus,
formalist saurian,
read Rex: Collected and
then went berserk.

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The original was dedicated to Teela, a poster at the Poetry Free-For-All, for the inspiration.