poetry slap

[lagilman]

which is much less harsh than a poetry slam, natch.


I can't help it. I get into Moods. And when I Mood, I Verse. And then it only gets Werse. *wince* Haiku is my preferred weapon, but I had a side helping of Cicardi with my Frost, Levertov and William Carlos Williams as a child, and as you can see I'm not afraid to doggerel or pun, either.

Come one, come all. Bring your good verse, your bad verse, your heartfelt and your snarky verse. You have nothing to lose but your dignity, and hey, if we all do this together...

No grading, no voting. No rules, regs or poetry police. Just having fun and stretching a little. I want to see something from everyone -- yes, everyone. I see you in the corner there. Come on, come out!

What? You want me to go first?

All right.



You turned once to say
Something, I’ve forgotten what;
I regret that now.

Comments

[mizkit.livejournal.com]

I once knew a girl from the city
Who claimed that her verse was quite sh*tty
But truth must be told
And my claim thus is bold
Her haiku was a nice little ditty!

[vampry.livejournal.com]

My one haiku:

Eating is done.
The sandwich was not enough.
I crave dessert.

*g*

I haven't written poetry in ages.

[girasole.livejournal.com]

I stopped writing poems
When I started having sex.
Go figure.

[scarlettina.livejournal.com]

I was never much good at haiku, but here's something inspired by my drive to work yesterday:

ducks fly alongside
my car as we cross the bridge
monday commuting

As an alternate, I offer more of the kind of thing I generally write when I write poetry. No one's seen this except my workshop. Warning--some adult language:


A Word about Brothel-Banning in Pahrump, Nevada

Where, exactly, do you get off
telling me
where I should go get off?
My people have been here for three generations,
generating cash and business and taxes for the schools,
settin' up the Brothel Museum of Nevada and the youth sports fund,
payin' their license fees and keepin' quiet.
You want to spread your subdivisions
over this land like the rash on an illegal hooker's be-hind.
But where've you been?
Out in your fancy, foreign, four-wheel drives
road-hoggin' Orange County freeways.
You can afford twenty dark, secret, city blocks
of stick-thin, mini-skirted vulturines
pickin' bones off the street and spreadin' sickness
like rats and pigeons.
It costs you nothing out there
with your fine-trimmed lawns and your desert sprinkler systems.
You don't see it; you forget it
until you want to gentrify.

What you see now are billboards on the Interstate,
one cluster of anonymous buildings a mile out of town.
You don't have to answer every question your kids ask.
You just tell 'em those are good citizens,
fine people,
payin' their license fees and keepin' quiet.

If I want a warm, soft body on a cold Nevada night,
someone I can spank or kiss or fuck or just play cards with,
well,
that's my business
and their business
and it's none of yours.

Re:

[lagilman]

*applause* (for everyone... and encouragement for those who haven't come out of the shadows just yet...)

Re:

[vampry.livejournal.com]

I really like this.

Almost inspires me to do more poetry. If I wasn't at work.

Re:

[agamisu.livejournal.com]

Steel glow and neon
The cathedral sits alone
Germany again

[butterflykiki.livejournal.com]

Hmmm.

Denver delights in
Sunlight, snow, ice and blue skies
Yet yearns for rain

...

Mold and warp
Question assumptions
Twist child minds

Heh. Evil teacher mode today.

[badgermirlacca.livejournal.com]

"Never reach for more than you are"
Isn't a saying that takes you far.
But always remember when you reach for a star
Fire burns.