Sorry...I've got the mung and have just been crudding around.
******************
by Gabrielle
To My First Love at Thirteen
I'm sorry we got in that fight
and I went to camp without saying goodbye.
When I came back you were in ICU
and the nurses could not meet my eye.
I left a note they said you saw,
did you know the sorrow I could not say?
Do you know that regret that lives in my heart
even to this day?
I love you John S.
******************
by Monica
Mr. Carlson
I'm the youngest of your youngest
She and I look a lot alike
Act alike, not that you would know
I was named for your replacement
I never met you, but don't remember him
I watched the TV you died with
I think we would have got along
Do you even know who I am?
******************
by Andrea
Ode to the man sitting across from me on Bus #5 heading North from Downtown
Only
eight
stops
to
say
I
Love
You
by Andrea
******************
by Marianne
My Conversation With
Mark Twain
You were a brave man,
to take such a stand.
Against everything grand,
established or thought to be good.
Religion, you spurned it.
Government, you burned it.
Society, you turned it
on it’s heels, leading it astray.
Marianne Fuchs
April 15, 2008
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8 comments:
Monica, I'd like to believe he knows you very well. This was a wonderful though sad poem.
Andrea, Tell us more about the guy on Bus #5. Eight stops to love? He must be very special.
Marianne
Monica-your poem got me thinking about relations unknown yet "the same blood" runs through us. I have often wondered if my great grandmother would have approved of me-
Mark Twain is great. I remember my JR. High English teacher telling us how controversial he was in his time-writing HOW people actually spoke and not in high falutin' bookchat!
With the PC police out to erase the horrors of history (and not learn from them) he is controversial once more.
Indian Joe--- THERE! I said it.
what is our next assignment professor?
(I could write an entire book of poems about the beautiful bus man!)
You say you have the MUNG.
'Twas brillig and the slithy toves...
what about a poem using some of our own silly made-up words?
great work Marianne, Andrea, and Monica.
Monica, I was especially touched by the last 3 lines...so much there. eerie and tender.
Andrea, that's weird, when I lived in Seattle, both downtown and near the U-district//-MY #5! had been known to enfold the best pipe dreams...when I'd visit my girlfriend on Aurora.(long long ago) Best metro in the the country.
I soooo got your poem! :) :)
What does he read while riding?
Marianne:::Mark Twain kicks my legs out from under me with his timeless cynicism. Wish I could meet this man in his day.
sorry gang....I didn't have it in me to produce...(don't tell Farmer Brown!)
~kate
"It's simple," Ed Norton says, "You just need a little English."
Ralph says "Oh yeah," I'll show you English." He leans over the table, wiggles his hips and then stares at the opposite cushion. The entire pool hall was holding its breath as Ralph spoke:
"You
Love,
I
Say,
To
Stops
Eight
Only."
"Good one Ralph."
"I heard it," Ralph said, "on the bus today."
Could said passenger 57 consider what we discussed?
JG^^:)
You all are BRILLIANT!
Seriously!
~ Bixby
Gabrielle, your poem was well worth the wait...thank you for adding it...
One of the benefits of this blog's contributions proves that I have a heart, as it is tweaked quite a bit..thanks guys.
~kate
nice job, everyone!
i was away for a few days without the 'net, and one thing i was looking forward to was reading what everyone came up with.
neat!
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