edpeterson
on Going Blind by Sasha
1 Nov 2004, 12:38 PM
"are you with me Dr. Poo, are you really just the shadow of the man that I once knew?"
So do you think it needs meter or re-classification? I was kinda excited about writing a sonnet, but I don't suppose it's a real one, is it?
Real sharp comeback dr smooth.
Here we go again... Notice that you did not say it could be interpreted as 'Request upon the vengeance of God...'
the ! is unnecessary. Sonnets don't need iambic pentameter, but generally (unless they are blank verse sonnets which yours is plainly not) each line needs to rhyme with at least one other somewhere else in the sonnet....blah blah blah. Okay you don't want to hear the formalist shit.
How about the poem has NO meter whatsoever and desparately cries for one.
Also the subject is a bit cliché
Quite funny!!! I was pondering the implications of a
crossmember being an angry penis the other day when I was distracted by the sudden and inexplicable explosion of the bottle of penafiel I was balancing on my head. Needless to say, I never got around to listing the implications. I will return to this duty when I dot it into my pdr.
That's a compliment coming from someone who writes poetry as limp and listless as yours.
Yes. I was worried about that. This thing is kickin' my ass.
Thanks for your time. 'preciate ya, driver.
The dimmest part of my dimness is that I chose to go spelunking without so much as a pen-light. The pen-light of course represents my inability to build a proof of any kind. And I thank you for keeping an eye on me that I may not harm myself further.
It is not moonshine, however. It is the fluid of Susan Vega.
The closest takes flight arcing in earnest.
"Oh, I know you didn't just..."
I close one eye and hunker
expecting a sudden and bleeding passenger.
I click on the four-ways and ease
to the shoulder.
The sentence structure becomes repetitive, with all the "I-verb-object"
Understood, and I agree. Interesting how right and wrong can be muddled together sometimes. Am I right for helping an industry that keeps us attached to foreign oil, pollutes the environment and perpetuates a belief that the automobile is a need? Am i wrong for leaving this industry that also employs a great many and enables me to provide for my family?
Deeper and deeper we go.
9. i like the subtle beat this has.
You are still a massive cock.
Okay GW I will explain but am surprised you never got this because as metaphors go they're not too challenging.
Mother rolled : photo in his hand
desperation eviscerated her into rips from the last embrace: the charge, the fear and adrenalin making him squeeze on to the photo in comfort thus ripping her.
the unimmaculate life, now immaculate: from a working class man in rags to a soldier, a hero, immortalized and immaculate, memorable not forgetable.
top pockets cheacked for a letter or trinket: as was the case in battlefields those with a home address were contacted so telegrams could be sent quicker.
the letter written in capitals: a reference to his age (14) shows his immaturity. Lord Litcheners recruitment of soldiers under the conscription age was a well known controversy, he sent marshals to intimidate any young man walking a street in england laden them with guilt and almost forced to sign, ignoring the age.
charred at the end pristine at the start : letter burning in the battlefield also synonymous with his life. As a child pristine as a soldier charred -dead. As a man ...it never happened his life was cut short.
The end stanza is self explanatory.
Why did you think this one in particular is incomprehensible?
If one's parents teach at a Poly
And one has to earn one's dough,
One's no better than a filthy golly,
That's right a full lipped negro.
As for my position in the order of things,
That is beyond reproach from you,
For I belong with Queens and Kings,
That's right sah, I'm a Jew!
Below the plebs lie the I.F.A.s -
Those shabby cads who spend their days
Spouting garbled financial cliches:
They spend their evenings bumming gays.
This is a terrible drooping hobo stain on a brilliant white sofa.
Weakest ever response! it's as if you've turned up to the opening meet of the Quorn wearing a badly stained Jodhpur AND a Pink without a stock only to comment "Thank you" to vociferous onslaught of a retired puce faced retired Colonel who has phlegmed in your face with a bark of anger at your inappropriate attire.
This poem is just a longer and not-as-good version of my ace poem, "Blinking" (http://poemranker.com/poem-details.jsp?
It's stupid anyway. In any event, you're calling on the name of God so that God will witness your oath. And such statements are utterly bum. Congratulations on grouping yourself with them in a spectacularly dim fashion!