My Year of Writing Dangerously

On the spur of one of my (increasingly rare) moments of inspiration, I decided that in order to maintain my artistic integrity, and because I can't keep calling myself a writer for much longer without actually WRITING something, I am going to write a poem a day for the next year. The first poem will be posted on August 10, 2010 and the last poem will be posted on August 10, 2011. (Unless, of course, I decide to keep going.) Not all of the poems will be good, and DEFINITELY not all of them will be interesting, but I will gaze around my kitchen, my living room, and Coming Home Cafe until something inspires me, then write a poem about it, as well as my random thoughts on the mundane things that no one notices, but which it is my goal to immortalize over the course of this year.



Monday, December 20, 2010

Days 86-90 - So NOT Amused (Get it, it's ironic, cuz these poems are funny)

I wrote this because my dog amuses me. This is from her perspective.
PS. The use (abuse?) of punctuation and emoticons and extra letters AND CAPS is something I just thought i'd mention because it seems really strange. So... this is me mentioning it. I don't really know where I'm going with this. I'll just go back to the poem now.

WOOOF!!!!
Are you kidding?
It's cold!?

Are you kidding?
It's windy!?

Come ON!!!
Are you kidding!?!
The bowl is empty?!
But I'm hungryy !!!!! :(

Oh COMEONNNN!?!?!
Are you kidding mee!!!
Now it's snowing?!
SERIOUSLYYY!!!??!?

WOOF BARK WOOF GRRAAAW GRRRRR WOOF BARK!!!

Hyperness
OMG AHHHHH
SO MUCH ENERGY
DRANK TOO MUCH COFFEEEE
WHOOOOOO
YIKES
I'M SINGING WAYYY TOO LOUD
THE PEOPLE ARE YELLING AT ME FROM THEIR HOUSES
WHEEEEEE THIS IS FUUNNNN
THE CARS ARE SO BRIGHT
THE SUN IS SO COOOLLL
NO REALLY, IT WAS JUST COFFEE
NO, THE WHITE STUFF ON MY LIP IS CREAMER
I SWEAR
MY MUSIC IS SO LOUD
JUST LIKE MEEEE
YAYYYYY
OH LOOK A CARRRR
OH LOOK THE STREET
THE STREET IS COMING TO SAY HI
HIIIIIIIII STREET
HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
ow.....

Inspiration
We artists search for inspiration
for a subject worthy of our words
or of our canvas
or of ourvoice.

We scour the whole world
for something beautiful
as beautiful as summer's sunrise
or a prairie cake with pure white snow icing.

Sometimes we get lucky
and inspiration is everywhere.
Sometimes we stare at the wall
and words weave themselves
our paper bleeds ink and images.

Then there are the times we can't turn it off
when we can't get our creativity to just shut the hell up
no matter how hard we  don't try,
no matter how poorly we focus
or how easily we let ourselves be distracted.

Sometimes our hands just work on their own
like Candarian hands
with minds of their own
and ideas of their own
independent of our minds.

And without our minds
our hands kind of suck
their images are bland
their rhyme schemes are mediocre
at best
their metre is closer to a foot
and they make poetic puns like that one
and obvious alliterations
or ones that are completely made mup.

What I'm trying to say is
I'm sorry
for this travesty of poetry
which I'm sure is making your ears bleed
damn these hands
which just won't stop
as hard as I try
they just keep typing.

Oh, wait, I think I've got a start
my typing has slowed
my brain is turning back on.

Finally, I'm free
to make better such and rhymes
than that monstrosity.

Piece of Cake
Sometimes poems are easy.
Some would say a piece of cake,
because they're fluffy and light.
But no, that can't be right.
Perhaps because they're covered in icing,
but that's wrong too, such sweets are more enticing.
Maybe it's their presence at birthdays.
No. No. That'd be as fun as a party survey.
So why is it " piece of cake?"
You'd think asnwering that would be at least as easy as pie.....

90
I wanted to make it to ninety
to keep my poetry lively
but now it's no good
I know I really should
have avoided writing idly.

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