poetandknowit
on unsent by Bill Z Bub
2 Feb 2003, 9:47 PM
I know you probably want this a tad abstract, but I think if you were a bit more in touch with the setting and created more specific images it would be more powerful overall. Not that this isn't a decent effort. There are some nice ideas behind the words but I think you could try to strengthen your metaphor. You did a nice job extending it, but if you threw some more specifics in for clarity, I think you would have a good piece. I was just waiting the whole poem to get that tingling in my lower back and it just never materialized. Damn.
Do you ever lie awake at night and wonder aloud to god why he gave me such great talent and you so little? Do you ever wonder about that just before you go to sleep, when you can feel yourself start to drift and are still conscious enough to make the choice of whether to give in to the drift or fight? Like a preview of dying. Is that what you mean here. Is it raining in Liverpool today?
Daring! Original! Creative!
Good thing you wrote this in high school. Of course, your writing hasn't changed all that much, eh? Good try!!
I have a narrow mind and I am gay. And zero, my dear sweet zero, was doing us all a favor with her definition regardless if it was prose or a poem. It needed to be said. For the love of my cat Babbit, it needed to be said. Is it raining in Baltimore?
No sweetie, not a ladder, a resume. Thanks for the poem. See you soon. Stay out of trouble.
fine. slibe an illegiblr creain. clotted cream aside, to you, sirrah!
goode evening! godspeed! rest ye merrrie.
erp.
Moreover, the bun was never on offer. 'Twas the pie you had a chance at. I behalf this whole pullover has been partible illiberal scone.
toodlepip.
just got back online. my modem exploded.
I speake with you, Sirrah. for future reference, please recall that: i'm in heaven, when you smile.
Have they named those microcosmed minature snow towns in the shake up see through glass globes yet?
I do not know whether you are talking to me or to the rascal nentwined. In any event, the bun to which I was referring was an Paris Bun. It was neither honeyed nor a buttock.
One moment, Goode Sir! I see that onefingeranswer also speakes of the sweet honeyed buns:
http://www.poemranker.com/poem-details.j
2 buns! (hmm, is that equal to a buttocks? her mind races back to the table of weights and measures she never really memorized in home ec. damn! she can't remember. rather than risk looking like a fool by asking "where's the rest of the body," she decides to treat the head and the two buns as separate entities, and replies graciously) thankee kindly, good sir. and a severed head! a brunette! most excellent choice! this completes my caucasion collection! (she is grateful he did not bring her another asian trophy; she's had to discard 3 already this week, and the trash man has been complaining about the weight of her bins.)
you are too kind!
Did you know I once invented a board game called Facial Justice? It was ace. It was a wond'rous combination of Monopoly, Cluedo, Pictionary, Mouse Trap and Scattergories. A ha, no, I jest. I don't know what the fuck Scattergories is like; I've never played it.
An fair point. However, I would urge you to daily read the copy of the International Herald Tribune, which can be found in the Library.
A good day to you.
No, but apparently your face does.
:hands the lady two buns and a severed head besides:
an awful lot of chatter for only two votes on the poem ;)
you, sir, are a first order CAD! to tempte me with a bun, and deny me the questionnaire which would facilitate its delivery unto my rapacious palette! good day to you!
>I say ole man, good to see you an all that... tea?<