Hello out there in poetry land. It's starting to feel a little desolate in here. The only post I've received as of Sunday night is my own. I know I may be a little narcissistic, but come on, you guys are making me look bad in front of the Teacher and you know it's all about me, me, me... If I don't have some seriously nonsensical poetry posted by the time she gets back, she won't ever let me guest host again. Now lets get rhyming poets! Here's mine.
Scalpetish
After 1 Year of Chemo
I’m scalpetish I claim.
My mirror knows that I’m vain.
My hair is still there.
Heads still not quite bare.
4 Months Later
It’s starting to fall.
It seems I’ll shed all.
The Crypt Keeper’s hair,
Looks good by compare.
2 Weeks Later
Hands cling to bare pate.
I’ll never find a mate,
Though I attend every function,
As I deny my compunction.
6 Months Later
I compulsively stroke hair,
For my scalps almost not bare.
Scalpetish I am.
My indifference a sham.
2 Months Later
New drugs burn my veins.
Yes, I still am quite vain.
Hair is my only real fetish.
You know, I call it scalpetish.
Marianne Fuchs
April 22, 2008
***************
Yea! We have another poet willing to scramble her words to create a poetry omelet. Here's a tasty little slice of rhyme by Andrea I think you will all enjoy:
"Life is just so complicayteedee"
she mused while attempting to feed a dead cat some of her lunch
"Pussykins Pussykins you wuvas cheese don't you"
trash strewn canyons wind through mountains of newspapers
"I've read every book here twice times two and those for clippings"
toenails and slippers grown as one, wig matted to scalp
"I'm a healer and can warm souls so I don't need help just now"
life is just so complicayteedee
***************
by Gabrielle
My Nonsense Word
My nonsense word is called Freedom,
its a love I pained to conceive.
My nonsense word is called Freedom,
its an ideal I longed to achieve.
The government finds
the taste of it sour
but cannot deny
its increasing power
exponentially growing
hour by hour
So I guess I can finally believe.
***************
Here is my Nonsense Word Poem
Please suggest any changes.
JG
Nonsense Job
I worked in his office
Each day after drool
For a grubbett of wheezers
A pocket of spool.
He licked me, I’m sure
With a winkel and nod
And paid me entreaties
Of hooves and a clod.
I ungered him once,
A pain in his chest--
He drubbed me unduly
To always unrest.
I worked in his office
Each day till the drop
And left with a wouch
And a snack left on top.
April 30, 2008 6:41 AM
***************
From kackerbe
H.I.M.
he gorps and grows so
messianic manitou
helpless, my love grows
***************************
(a haiku about Barry!)---p.s. did you ever see The Manitou?
Best-Worst movie ever!!!!!
"gorp" means to my family-----drinking thick milkshakes, etc. :)
His*Infernal*Majesty
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6 comments:
Mariannne:
What a powerful poem. I love the fact that it demonstrates how we can use nonsense (as in the case of your portmanteau word) to make sense of our confusing environs.
Gaby,
Sorry, I've been skipping class. I am on a project right now. And if Andrea would get back to me with an answer, I could tell you about it.
Miss you guys; see ya on the blog.
JG^^
wow, this is a really hard word verification!
JG-
Check your email-I did respond I promise!
Also-last friday my computer crashed so I just now sent in my assignment
Some Trouble Posting--sorry.
Here is my Nonsense Word Poem.
Please suggest any changes.
JG
Nonsense Job
I worked in his office
Each day after drool
For a grubbett of wheezers
A pocket of spool.
He licked me, I’m sure
With a winkel and nod
And paid me entreaties
Of hooves and a clod.
I ungered him once,
A pain in his chest--
He drubbed me unduly
To always unrest.
I worked in his office
Each day till the drop
And left with a wouch
And a snack left on top.
John, I didn't think your marvelous nonsense should be hidden in the comments so I moved it to the main page.
Andrea, how wonderfully sad yet funny.
"toenails and slippers grown as one," what a vivid image!
Marianne
a pocket of spool...
great image
This was a fun project
Yeah Kate for posting.
My friend Jeff is writing Manitou the Musical (of course sung to the tune of Xanadu) I had to laugh when I saw the word.
My poem comes from a "rescue" I did when I worked for the Foundation for the Handicapped (that's what they were actually called) the way she said complicated has always stuck with me.
Andrea, this was a fun project for me too.
Now that you've shared your muse with us, I "really" understand your poem and love it even more. Feeding the dead cat, mountains of newspapers, the books and clippings. So tragically humorous. Thanks for sharing.
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