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zigzackly's omnium-gatherum * |
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Recent Posts
D Mervin Ffingir writes, and having writ, moves on: |
Friday, August 31, 2012
Your poem must be based on any Wordsworth poem. It must be titled "The spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings." Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
Write a poem about what a bitch it is to have to go to a dull boring office with crass commercial philistines who don't see the beauty of art rather than sit around languidly writing poetry all day. For bonus points, make say nasty things about publishers and how your genius will be recognised one day, long after you're dead, and then they'll be sorry, but see if you care. Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Sunday, August 26, 2012
It's Sunday. You have time on your hands. You could spend it with family, and/or doing fun things outdoors. But no. You are a poet. So, today, you will create a new poetic form. And explain it by writing a poem in that form. Of course you can name it after yourself. Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Saturday, August 25, 2012
It's the weekend. Yay! You can teach yourself stuff about how to format things online. Write a shape poem. Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Friday, August 24, 2012
Your poem must be an ode to a public figure. Preferably a film star or a cricketer. Or Anna Hazare. Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Thursday, August 23, 2012
In this poem you must write about The Grave Social Issues That Plague Our Country. Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Today's poem must be in SMSese. And it must be at least 20 lines long. Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Today, Godawful Poets, you will write either a ghazal in English or a sonnet in Hinglish. Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Monday, August 20, 2012
Today's poem must be about love again. But at any age. And it • must be in rhyming couplets • should, preferably, be in terrible meter • should, preferably, use the rhyming pairs love/dove and moon/june Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Dang. Wrote this and forgot to publish it! Today's poem must be about unrequited teenage love Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
As you already know, Godawful Poetry Fortnight starts on the 19th August and runs up to the 31st August. This blog is its literal and spiritual home. All previous posts on the subject here are tagged thus. Our Patron Saint is 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). This is its fifth year. Godawful Poetry Fortnight isn't a competition such, so we don't invite entries. We instead invite all poets, of whatever degree of cringing self-image, to use its licence to put down their very worst work. Let it all out, we say, like you would acidity or, erm, other body wastes. So this is our call for exits. Post godawful poems as often as you like during the Fortnight. (The True Believers Challenge: post thirteen godawful poems, one on each day of the Fortnight.) If I can think of 13 prompts in time, I'll post them all here, and you can use them, if you need them. No promised though. Use a Godawful Poetry Fortnight tag or label on your post, and/or maybe a #GodawfulPoetryFortnight hashtag on Twitter and/or Google+. You can link to this post or this blog if you want to, and/or you can alert me on Twitter) and/or Facebook and/or Google+. None of that is required if you'd rather not. The important thing is the evacuation. I mean exit. I mean poetry. Right then. Onward! Upward! Labels: Godawful Poetry Fortnight |
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.
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