Monday, April 12, 2010

Mr. Wil's 131

Learning how to write poetry... baby steps.
Most of my English 131 - Intro to Poetry Writing assignments:


Nonsense Words
(Walmart exercise in iambic pentameter)


Pajamas, nightgown, collar, button, sleeve

Compressor, hammer, level, pulley, screw

***

Object Description
(Couplet in iambic pentameter with variations)

/ x ´ / x ´ , / ´ x / x ´ / x ´ / x a

/ ´ x / x ´ / x ´ / x ´ / x ´ / x a


Hammer

The modern head: steel for efficient bounces.

Standard can weigh from ten to twenty ounces.



***


Nonsense Words + New Couplet
(Iambic pentameter, abab)

CSI: The Final Clue

Pajamas, nightgown, collar, button, sleeve.

Compressor, hammer, level, pulley--screw!

Detective Grissom knew what to believe.

He went to fetch the rest of the sleuth crew.

***

Ten Line Poem
(Iambic pentameter, revised + additional verses)

The Smoking Ban

On January 1
st, it came to town—

the smoking ban that chased away the butts

of cigarettes from public buildings’ grounds.

The flagpole in Polk Place is now the home

of Tar Heel smokers—students, teachers, and

some other folks who like to watch the smoke.

New blades of grass of half-chewed Camels reign

around the Newport-buds. Saliva-dew.

Is it the best location to light up,

a hundred feet from school facilities?

Before and after: still free to pollute.

The stench of rolled up nicotine now floats

beneath the colors of red, white, and blue.


***

Ekphrastic Poem
(Quatrain in
iambic pentameter)

/ - ´ / x ´ / x ´ / x ´ / x ´ a

/ x ´ / x ´ / xx ´/ x ´ / x ´ b

/ x ´ / x ´ / x. / x ´ / x ´ / x ´ a
/ x ´ / x ´ / ,´ / x ´ / x ´ b

"Self-portrait as Thing in the Forest" by Julie Heffernan (b. 1956)


Julie's hair is red drupes in one tress.

She stands, a Thing in the Forest in her dream

of many colors. And hanging from her dress,

a single sleeve, ruffles colored cream.

***

Combo-Sonnet
(Iambic pentameter with variations, abab cdcd efef gg)

Murder in the Hippocampus

Pajamas, nightgown, collar, button, sleeve...

Compressor, hammer, level, pulley—screw!

Gil Grissom didn’t know what to believe.

He went to fetch the rest of the sleuth crew.

A bloody hammer glistened in the nook;

head was made of steel (for efficient bounces).

A deadly weapon… Here, come take a look:

Standard can weigh from ten to twenty ounces.

Julie’s hair was braided in one tress.

She stood, a Thing in the Forest in her dream

of many colors. Now hanging from her dress,

a single sleeve, ruffles colored cream,

was stained in red: nothing’s what it seems.

Unsolved mystery in the world of dreams…

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Vino y migajas

Zero Deities-

An Atheist Goes to Church:


Y de veras, no fue coincidencia aquella,

cuando a su lado el Señor me puso.

Sabiendo que detesto ese sonido

de gargantas invasoras de paz.

Las lenguas mojando el pan, es lo único

que escucho. Y mucho vino torrencial,

ahogando esófagos apolina’os.

Y si me ves con tremendo meneíllo,

Es por la angustia que siento. El cosquilleo

de la gente “astuta”. Juro que me pongo más

bruta con cada glub glub, sabes.


Y muero por dentro.


Cheers,

Char

Monday, March 8, 2010

Ballsy

For the gorgeous Samantha Terry.


Balls.

The sexist, metaphorical

things that are in my—ooh,

Possession;

You seem to have them too.


Don’t cry, Sweetheart,

not a tear.

You know we can play too.

We don’t play often,

oh, but when we do…


Balls.

We do fall, but when we

bounce back,

All Hell—breaks—

Loose.


Lucky for us,

they’re only metaphorical.

Lucky for us,

they don’t hide

when

things

get

Tough.


balls


So when you hear him say,

Naughty, are you going there?

You know you'll reply, ever so calmly,

Baby, I’ve been there—

and back.


Ha! Balls...


Cheers,
The Charmonsta'

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Chaucer, Chowder--Who Gives a Damn?

Engl 320 is driving me insane.


You're the sentence, Chaucer,
the subject of my story.

If a sweven is a dream and
If tonight was last night,
then idk what the frick Imma do with
mah life. Honestly. Chaucer.

Ynough!

What where you thinking?!
Every time I read the Tales,
I deye inside. My soul turns blake.
And I'm a wight, a person.

You've got some sense of humor.

I see that nyce is synonymous to foolish
and to have a wood is madness, woodnesse.
Oh, I will make werre to you.
Make werre long time, I seye.

My patience is lite in kynde, little in nature,
inversely proportionate to my wood.

Nathelees, I'll read you
with my tweye eyes.
Chaucer.
Chowder.
Who gives a damn?



Thine Illustrious Charmander