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Godawful Poetry Fortnight - writing cue - day 13
Godawful Poetry Fortnight - writing cue - day 12
D Mervin Ffingir writes, and having writ, moves on:
September 2003 |
December 2003 |
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April 2013 |
Good poetry, I say, is never hard,
Oh so easy, just look at me!
Dante did struggle, as did the Bard
And other writers of poetry,
When compared to good ol' me,
Faded hacks trail by many a yard.
(Ulysses wishes that I had been free —
Look what he got with that Tennyson laird.)
So come, gather round, kick off your shoes!
On our pedestal come rest your weary heads.
Now watch as we perform, we do party tricks!
No sweat, we could do this without getting out of bed.
Even two-in-one deals, you can't lose!
(This poem is also an acrostic.)
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
In which we do keh-mukarni
His pulse is racing, heart a-flutter,
Into the night,, he pines, he's tense
Does he expect a love letter?
No, cupcake, he waits for blog comments
And anthadi
How do I love thee, let me count the ways.
The ways in which I love thee, I shall enumerate this day.
A summer's days I shall compare thee to.
To find another line to steal too.
Stole my heart away you did.
Didn't you? And I forgot to rhyme that bit.
Bits an pieces make sense here.
Here I am, half-asleep in frog pajamas.
Pajamas, Bahamas, I love the Lama's Llamas.
Llamas are found in Peru.
Guavas are found in my garden.
Gardens are nice places to end poems.
Except I need to bring this back to and ending that locks with the beginning. How?
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
Another anonymous submission, from the bashful poet who wrote this one.
Day before I thought I found my calling
With my first godawful poet penned
So I sit today to write another
To this all my faculties I lend
And then I realize that no words flow
I write cruddy muck and backspace and delete
What I write sounds too awful to be godawful
And yet I feel no conceit
My poem is too bad to be good-bad poetry
And yet not so craptacular that its good
It is poetic when it should not be
And yet too odious to be withstood
What does one do when she can’t write good rhyme
And can’t write bad rhyme either?
Does she write prose then?
Or from composing take a breather?
What can be worse that not be able to not write;
Not be able to write sucky enough?
Especially when you can’t even write things well
Can life give you a better rebuff?
The godawful poet relinquishes her throne
She decides to call it a day
And maybe its just in time too
Because doesn’t the fornight end tomorrow?
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, guest posts, meme, poetry
by Annie M Mathews
I slouched at my computer disconsolate
My inbox empty as it was wont to be
When suddenly there came a spate
Of mail I greeted with much glee
Viagra, meds, ten-inch you-know-whats
Everything to hit the ‘other’ spots
Messages in English and Spanish too
Inviting me to visit their page
My heart to point of bursting grew
When offered work with plentiful wage
I skimmed, perused, mulled and soared
To be thus wanted had me floored
I little knew what worlds there lay
With a little link that led elsewhere
So very many with so much to say
The few of words had much to bare
And now when on my comp I slouch
Mail I will receive, for this I vouch
Go find more: Godawful Poetry Fortnight or search Google
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, guest posts, meme, poetry
The admiring masses have, no doubt, noted the variety of forms we, in our verse-a-tility (ooh, he puns too!) have showcased. This next one's in blank verse.
Blank. Geddit? Geddit?
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
From a friend who prefers to remain anonymous. We wonder why.
I have never been much of a poet, not I
But this noble cause made me try
For even if poems make me nod
-off to sleep, godawful poetry strikes a chord
Is it the whole wretchedness of it
That wrings my heart to complete grit?
Just like pity for the hungry tramp
Is it the abjectness that makes my eyes damp?
Is it the brave face godawful poets don
Under assault of classic poetry they hold in scorn?
And attack it back with absolute tripe
That looks like it appeared spontaneously on an asswipe?
As I write these words at night
I see the end-of-the-tunnel light
Could it be that godawful rhyme
Holds the key to the heavens sublime?
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, guest posts, meme, poetry
Saved this in drafts and forgot to post it. Apologies, oh ye teeming masses.
Many words worth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
With acid rain and no antacid pills,
When all at once I belched aloud
It was like several textile mills.
Around me several old ladies
Fell, coughing, to their knees.
It had shades of turpentine
And gutters on a summers day,
And bits of tripe — i.e. intestine —
And rotting fish in a stagnant bay.
Ten thousand slew I with that burp
Top that, Kid Billy, and Wyatt Earp!
Poison gasses kill, sure, but they
Are nothing to that awesome burst
Agent Orange had a nice bouquet
Compared to the smell that we produced.
I breathed deep but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
Oft, when on my commode I sit
Indigestion having driven me there,
Summoning up a good old .. never-mind,
And the sound and vapours fill the air;
The odours we produce are solid, tangible, big!
But that eructation that day was in a different league.
We have outdone ourselves, no?
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
Poetic forms are many today, like the ghazal
Many poets I know, they say they like the ghazal
I too tried many times to write one,
They never come out close, nay, not like a ghazal
Other poets write them easily, I see:
My friend Jeet can write and recite from memory, on the mic, a gazill-
-ion of them before breakfast, the swine,
Me, I am still struggling to write a wee tyke of a ghazal
I tried writing them sitting down, standing up,
lying down, walking, even on my bike. No ghazal.
My words leap, bound, run, sprint, jink,
Like they're running from a sher, and like I'm a gazelle.
So we wind up seeking solace in wine;
Zig, he much prefers *hic* to have a guzzle.
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
I have always wanted to write a villanelle,
Just five tercets and one quatrain;
But it's way too complicated to do it well
Many have done it, so I hear tell,
So I've tried until it drove me insane.
I so badly want to write a villanelle.
If I give up, I will languish in poetic hell,
To notice me, real poets will never deign.
But it's way too complicated to do it well.
I juggle the words, but they never jell,
I turn them all sideways and upright again,
I have always wanted to write a villanelle.
The performance anxiety I just cannot quell
I'm in realio trulio physical pain
But it's way too complicated to do it well.
I scream And I shout and I weep and I yell
Until they can hear me in the next lane,
I have always wanted to write a villanelle.
But it's way too complicated to do it well.
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
Mary had a little lamb
Its fleece was white as baraf
And everywhere that Mary went
The lamb went ussi taraf
It followed her to school one day
Which was niyamo ke khilaaf
It made the children laugh and play
Poem ends. Gustakhi maaf
Notes: the first half is an old college joke, origins lost in the mists of time. The second is all our fault. No, wait, we tell a lie. Poonam and Manisha helped us. Our Hindi is way too pathetic to manage on our own.
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
doopity doopity doo
the mouse ran out of the loo
having done what he went in to do
doopity doopity doo
Inspired by a certain status message.
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
Got to tell you about my crush!
Words come out in a rush!
Like Usain Bolt's 100 metre dash!
Like the Mithi in flood they gush!
Do not interrupt! No! Hush!
Have another dose of mush!
See my emotions, naked and lush!
Kabhi gam and kabhi khush!
My labour's easy, I just push!
Sit here, comfy, on my tush!
Sipping my vodka orange juish!
Are you enjoying my nash
aa?
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
They gave my my poetic license -
Then they took it back
For rhyming under the influence.
They called me a dirty hack -
A nuisance
But, like Ahnuld, I'll be Bach.
Footnote: That should have been "They gave me my poetic license" but then one of the basic principles of bad poetry is to have typos which one then justifies. So, er, ah, um, "my my" was poetic repetition. So there.
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
Instant poetry
Add hot water
No filters please
Our powerful feelings
Are overflowing
Spon
Tan
E
Ous
Ly.
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
Haiku inspiration strikes -
Alas, Zig is liberal arts major;
Syllable count goes BLAM!
For M.
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
Inkle, binkle Ringo Starr,
How I wonder where you are.
John died, George too, and poor ol' Paul,
The Mills of God grind very small.
Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
Bad Poetry Day (18th August), according to Holiday Insights, is an idea that originated with Wellcat.com who "have created a number of special days and have actually copyrighted them so they can profit by it." Wellcat's page is here.
Well okay, sure, we won't infringe anyone's copyright. We can't afford the legal fees. But we hereby patent, copyright, and release into the public domain Godawful Poetry Fortnight (on the rather shaky grounds that "fortnight" sounds more poetic than "week," but mostly because it gives us more time and scope for idiocy).
Godawful Poetry Fortnight (GPF for short), we solemnly proclaim, starts on the 19th August and ends on the 31st August.
"Aha!" You say, "That's thirteen days, not fourteen!" To which we say, like all bad poets, "Nyaah nyah nyah nyaaah nyah! Poetic license! Sucks to be you!"
Godawful Poetry Fortnight has a patron saint: William Wordsworth. And he gets this signal honour for saying that poetry "is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Way too many aspiring poets have rallied behind that banner, too few going so far as recollecting those emotions in tranquillity, let alone reading the rest of the preface to Lyrical Ballads (which can be found on Bartleby, for those interested).
To participate, simply post a godawful poem on your blog* along with a brief note about GPF, and, if you like, a bit about what godawful poetry means to you. You don't have to link to this post, but we would love it if you did. Naah. Who are we kidding? Link here or your fillings will fall out!
You can post as often as you like during the Fortnight. Get it all out of your system. And you must pester your friends to post too. And once GPF is done, you will go and write good poetry for the rest of the year, yes? (: Until GPF rolls around again next year. :)
Please use this Technorati tag on your post: Godawful Poetry Fortnight. Here's the HTML for the tag: <a href="http://technorati.com/tag/Godawful+Poetry+Fortnight" rel="tag">Godawful Poetry Fortnight</a>
* If you're one of the last seven people on earth who don't have blogs, you're welcome to use the comment space here.
Clarification: The godawful poem you post must be your own work. No picking on earnest innocents you might know.
Update 2: Here's a challenge for the really talented among you. Post thirteen godawful poems, one on each day of the Fortnight.
Godawful Poetry Fortnight.
Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight, meme, poetry
We're delighted to be able to tell you about this contest we have just got up and running. We're presenting it in partnership with LiveJournal, one of the oldest, most respected names in the community blogging world.
It's a pretty simple challenge we have here, one that will particularly appeal to all the fiction writers among you, but not too intimidating for those of you who like other forms of writing to give it a bash.
Can you tell a quicker, snappier story than anyone else? Would you care to pit your story-telling abilities against those of your peers?
Quick Tales, the LiveJournal - Caferati Flash Fiction contest, asks you to tell us a story in 500 words or less. On offer: delicious cash prizes (top prize: Rs 19,999), global visibility and the chance to be part of a book.
You probably know what Flash Fiction is all about - we have run Flash Fic contests for the Kala Ghoda Arts Festival for the last three years, and FF tags and memes have been floating around the blogosphere for ages - but, just in case you do need a few starting tips, see this page.
The contest is open to residents of India who are members of LiveJournal's India Writing community. (If you're not an LJ member, joining is free. Click the "Create a LiveJournal Account" link at the top of any LJ page.) The theme is "Journal," and your deadline is 7th September.
Prizes? The top 5 winning entries take home cash prizes of Rs 19,999, Rs 16,000, Rs 12,000, Rs 8,000 and Rs 4,000, respectively. And the rest of the top ten get paid accounts on LJ for one year. Each of the top 100 entries will also be highlighted on LJ's India Writing community for the world to see. (Short-listed stories may also be included in a book that LiveJournal plans to publish at a later date.)
Go straight through to our Quick Tales microsite for all the details, and don't forget to join India Writing, which is the place where all the updates will be happening. Live Journal has more plans for writers in all languages in India, and that community will be HQ.
We'd also be very, very grateful if you chose to tell your friends about it, and, if you have a blog or personal site, or are a member of other writing communities, to link to the site as well.
Good luck, and we hope to see your entry soon!
Labels: caferati, contest, writers
Note: [*] = The site linked to requires registration.
Zig's on Twitter
Follow, all ye who must know more.Words
We've all heard that a million monkeys banging on a million typewriters will eventually produce a masterpiece. Now, thanks to the Internet, we know this is not true.
~ Eyler Coates
to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle any human being can fight and never stop fighting
~ e e cummings
In three words i can sum up everything I've learned about life.
It goes on.
~ Robert Frost
Ring the bells that still can ring,
Forget your perfect offering,
There is a crack in everything;
That's how the light gets in.
~ Leonard Cohen
May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.
~ Edward Abbey, naturalist and author (1927-1989)
I fell in love – that is the only expression I can think of – at once, and am still at the mercy of words, though sometimes now, knowing a little of their behavior very well, I think I can influence them slightly and have even learned to beat them now and then, which they appear to enjoy.
~ Dylan Thomas, Welsh poet, short-story writer, and playwright, "Poetic Manifesto" in the Texas Quarterly, Winter 1961
A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.
~Thomas Mann, novelist, Nobel laureate (1875-1955)
The world in general doesn't know what to make of originality; it is startled out of its comfortable habits of thought, and its first reaction is one of anger.
~ W. Somerset Maugham, writer (1874-1965)
In times of profound change, the learners inherit the earth, while the learned find themselves beautifully equipped to deal with a world that no longer exists.
~ Al Rogers
Assumptions are the termites of relationships.
~ Henry Winkler, actor (1945- )
Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds.
~ George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans), novelist (1819-1880)
Either you think - or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you.
~ F. Scott Fitzgerald
There is no remedy so easy as books, which if they do not give cheerfulness, at least restore quiet to the most troubled mind.
~ Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, author (1689-1762)
Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt. Dance like nobody's watching.
~ Satchel Paige
Fake it till you make it.
~ (Heard on West Wing)
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