Monday, 8 August 2011

Great-Grandson of Godawful Poetry Fortnight

We launched the first Godawful Poetry Fortnight in 2008, and followed up in in 2009 and 2010. All our posts are here, and there's a brief article in the TOI about the Fortnight here.

Now, time to gear up for 2011. You have been warned!

The essentials:

• Godawful Poetry Fortnight runs from the 19th to the 31st August.

• 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).

• To join in, all you have to do is post on your blog*, Facebook or Google+ a godawful poem you have written, with—all totally optional—a brief note about GPF, a bit about what godawful poetry means to you, and a link to this post.

• 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.) Squeeze your muse like a boil. Get it all out. Pester your friends to post too. Once GPF is done, you will write good poetry for the rest of the year, yes?

• Technorati is pretty much dead now. So just use a Godawful Poetry Fortnight tag or label on your post, and maybe a #GodawfulPoetryFortnight Twitter hashtag as well.

• To those who feel the need to point out this Fortnight lasts only thirteen days, we draw our cape around us, and say, in a marked manner, "Poetic license."

* I'd be happy to link to you if you tell me where your poem is.
If you don't have a blog, you're welcome to use the comment space here or, if you know me and have my address, email me your poems and I'll post them as guest posts.

21 comments:

nutty said...

would you post a topic each day? may be easier then...

rupa gulab said...

Cockroaches to the left of me, cockroaches to the right,
My blood it froze like popsicles at such a fearsome sight.
“Oh Romeo, Romeo wherefore art thou,”
I screamed like Bianca Castafiore in my fright.
The sod was dive-bombing angry birds, and ignored my plight.

Prashanth said...

Here's my ripe godawfulness, heh:

Hope

the dawn's spent, fallen from its height;
the wind's vicious banshee hails the night.
the torch is aloft, and flutters yet;
hope does now tattered flames beget.

the earth frozen, bereft, the air dust,
the sky livid, its intent cold,
nothing warms but the creature's soul
that writhes somehow for forward thrust.

Radhika said...

I wake up and switch on my computer,
Type facebook dot com into my browser.

Suddenly everyone seems to be a hipster,
Being their friend I can't even remember.

It informs about births and an occasional death,
I click 'like' without pausing to take a breath.

People you may know, it dissects,
Our life, one hangover to the next.

Cricket matches, activism and a renamed state,
There is always fodder for one to pontificate.

I update my status with something clever,
Punny and insightful in equal measure.

I wait impatiently for notifications to appear,
Where the hell are my serial commentors?

I will woo them with some godawful poetry,
Hoping the number of 'likes' will reach twenty.

curiouslycreative said...

Bling bling bling
Tringa-la-ling
There she swings
In her heels and rainbow sequins.

Whistles, ogles and glares
The young and old together stare
For what she bares
Is no ordinary fare.

Does restriction bring on desire
Do taboos light hearts on fire
Isn't beauty for all to admire
Oh how I love being a woman, sire.

curiouslycreative said...

Bling bling bling
Tringa-la-ling
There she swings
In her heels and rainbow sequins.

Whistles, ogles and glares
The young and old together stare
For what she chooses to bare
Is no ordinary fare.

Does restriction bring on desire
Do taboos light hearts on fire
Isn't beauty for all to admire
Oh how I love being a woman, sire.

priyashah012 said...

Your mouth

Joker
Fake smile
Polka dots

Frankeinstein
Monster face
Black socks

Dish washer
Garbage can
Your mouth

..............

My meaning of 'godawful poetry' :
From disgusting to depressing. Anything which after reading, you feel you shouldn't have read it.

priyashah012 said...

the Buddha is still asleep

Cucumber like thermocol
French fries like styrofoam
Come, hit me
I am like a punching bag

the Moon has gone to Bangkok
The birds, to watch an Opera
let us sing our song
the Buddha is still asleep

priyashah012 said...

close-up picture


I have your close-up picture
with a colgate smile
and pepsodent teeth
with revlon eyes
and lakme skin
dandruff free l'oreal hair
eyebrows painted with special care

i can also smell some cool water too...

i have your close-up picture
pasted on my dartboard.

priyashah012 said...

(there was a little mistake in the earlier one)

close-up picture

I have your close-up picture
with a colgate smile
and pepsodent teeth
with revlon eyes
and lakme skin
dandruff free l'oreal hair
eyebrows painted with special care

i can smell some cool water too...

i have your close-up picture
pasted on my dartboard.

JadedOpal said...

ah poetry
you are as welcome
as the sound of grinding stone
while eating rice and tomato dal
as the sound of arriving train
on the right track but the wrong way
as the sound of one mosquito
while lying on the hammock

rush into the arms
of that teen groping for words to satiate her angst
or that senior knitting memories from thin air
or someone naive enough to let you in
feeling all charmed and rather flattered.

as much as I enjoyed writing this hack
you might enjoy it even more
so I end this with an abrupt jerk:
shoo.

JadedOpal said...

ah poetry
you are as welcome
as the sound of grinding stone
while eating rice and tomato dal
as the sound of arriving train
on the right track but the wrong way
as the sound of one mosquito
while lying on the hammock

rush into the arms
of that teen groping for words to satiate her angst
or that senior knitting memories from thin air
or someone naive enough to let you in
feeling all charmed and rather flattered.

as much as I enjoyed writing this hack
you might enjoy it even more
so I end this with an abrupt jerk:
shoo.

priyashah012 said...

Laugh out

Don't play games on the highway
The dogs could be rabid
Don't sing songs in the lift
The liftman may fall asleep
Don't fight while driving
The car may start crying

Makes jokes in the church
Jesus needs to laugh
Dance in the funeral
The dead are happier to be dead
Meditate in the court, jail
Laugh out, and be laughed at

priyashah012 said...

You never smile

You never smile
because smiles never come to you.
You repel them.

And once in a while,
when they do manage to show up,
they are so tight
that your cheek bones break
muscles get ruptured
and lips, bleed.

priyashah012 said...

When will summer come ?

So many poems
i swallowed
this monsoon.

I watch them play
hide and seek
inside my stomach.

Their play causes me
indigestion.
When will summer come?

priyashah012 said...

A piece of art

it is made from rose wood.
the best quality.
with natural polishes.

specially designed,
ergonomically perfect.
perfect for me.

the carving,
so gorgeous!
a piece of art.

and oh! so comfortable
is my home.
the coffin.

priyashah012 said...

BuTt

It rains "green tea"
in my dreams.
The greenest ones.

Bamboos migrate
from assam to japan.
They actually fly!

Under the roof of clouds
elephants teach poetry.
They wear spectacles too...

I could dream forever
but i wake up!
There is always a BuTt in the way.

priyashah012 said...

Shout out loud

eek! screek.
crunch munch
hush ... oh man!
rush.
howl; yowl
scream...
wail and wail
and roar and roar
shriek and quake
yell !

shout out loud
your pseudo rant

Amrita said...

nocturnal living / feeling younger than in daytime / the world your oyster / my green chat circle wine to go with #GodawfulPoetryFortnight

ps: couldn't find a tweet with tag... ?

priyashah012 said...

Sweetheart

You must be
a sweetheart.
but a******s
are in demand

Moumita said...

Twenties gone…
Like the kal baishaki…
On a dry dry noon.
Twenties gone
Chasing for love
Like the wind
On a dry dry noon
Fiery and passionate
Bold and disheveled
Refusing reasons
Untamable and wild
Like the wind
On a dry dry noon.

Thirties trudged
After the sprightly Chasing
Waiting and hoping
For that love
That refused to come
Hoping and waiting
For that love
For that gentle smile
To warm the gelid soul

Forty,tis now
Weary and learned -
To chase love is but
A fool’s play
Life is to live
And give
And share
With those who
Crave love -
Little children and
Discarded souls
Plants and animals ¬¬¬¬---
All wait
Like the parched Land
For your bounty
To shower on them.