it was hard not to laugh
When the waiter believed
That we were from England
What a plan we conceived!
He was fine when we told him
He gave us free pie!
I love Marie Calendars!
And that one waiter guy!
Explaining Andy Kaufman
and the carousel of stars around
a fixed North Star you impersonate
a guarantee.
Falling in like, I sit Indian-style and
my left foot falls asleep while
the horses in the fields debate whether
it’s a hoax
or not. Because while you explain
Andy Kaufman, I am hardly in a hurry.
The sun hisses to the Snake River before
this moon man
fools me into believing he’s ailing and
spinning from his North Star. You
squeeze my hand and wonder which
way is up
in our skewed galaxy. I’ve never
thought of it that way but falling
into like on dirt roads that lead
to the same places paved ones
do threatens the retention of
clichés. They may wrestle out,
kicking up sand in my eyes to
defeat the strongest woman in the world.
All these cerebral verses are giant boulders,
hurled up out of the volcano of day to day living,
coming to rest in haphazard arrays;
too hard, heavy, and awkward
to push into perfectly aligned stanzas.
Every night at midnight (Mountain Standard Time), a new topic is posted. Your job is to write a poem that day that has to do with the topic. Post it as a comment under that day's blog post. Repeat the next day!
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Tristan: I faintly feel my spinning wheels come creaking to a stop. To keep them going, momentum slowing, takes much more than I’ve got. A push, a prod, a smile and nod, I’ll take what...
D. Edgar Lamp: FAILURE Fortune gathers those who know, All the seasons take their turn, Instant while the moments glow. Logic binds the rapturous burn, Urgent weather aches to go, Rising fractal...
Meryl: If F stands for FAIL, Why does BYU use E? Does E stand for EPIC FAIL? Could that possibly be?
Volkam: Traveling up a long winding stair I grow and learn the stairs never end but I don’t care I want to feel the struggle and the burn at times the stairs are smooth or rough my efforts...
Tristan: They say that it ends. They say that it gets better. I don’t believe them.
SBgiselle: High School Day by day, It is the longest thing invented. Year by year, It flies by like it never even happened.
Meryl: I struggle to research; I avoid writing. But soon my paper will be longer than this poem.
Russell: The other things that put themselves in between the things I actually want to do seem infinitely long
Volkam: I met him in a house macabre sitting under the dim luminescence of a dusty old candelabra I shuddered at his prescence “What kind of fuerte might you have young man? Enough to escape...
Volkam: along the grainy beach the ebb and flow of tide eased me to soft sleep in a nearby hotel room I lie I’ve run across the sand late late at night and from this strange land felt the...
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it was hard not to laugh
When the waiter believed
That we were from England
What a plan we conceived!
He was fine when we told him
He gave us free pie!
I love Marie Calendars!
And that one waiter guy!
Like or Dislike:
+3
all
smiles and laughs
when inside
you’re crumbling
-about to crack
Like or Dislike:
+2
title: it’s hard to write love poems
Explaining Andy Kaufman
and the carousel of stars around
a fixed North Star you impersonate
a guarantee.
Falling in like, I sit Indian-style and
my left foot falls asleep while
the horses in the fields debate whether
it’s a hoax
or not. Because while you explain
Andy Kaufman, I am hardly in a hurry.
The sun hisses to the Snake River before
this moon man
fools me into believing he’s ailing and
spinning from his North Star. You
squeeze my hand and wonder which
way is up
in our skewed galaxy. I’ve never
thought of it that way but falling
into like on dirt roads that lead
to the same places paved ones
do threatens the retention of
clichés. They may wrestle out,
kicking up sand in my eyes to
defeat the strongest woman in the world.
Like or Dislike:
+2
Jenga is hard when
you realize
it’s your fault
that the tower
came tumbling down
Like or Dislike:
+2
All these cerebral verses are giant boulders,
hurled up out of the volcano of day to day living,
coming to rest in haphazard arrays;
too hard, heavy, and awkward
to push into perfectly aligned stanzas.
Like or Dislike:
+3
When I see your face
I cant help but smile
I have to remind myself
We both have changed
And it will never be the same
Like or Dislike:
+1