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Poetics and Poetry Discussion

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  • metamorphhh (aka jim crawford) (3/22/2014 6:19:00 AM) Post reply | Read 4 replies

    James Timothy Jarrett has posted a nice, what might be called a 'list poem' below, and I thought it might be nice to see what others can do along those lines. Rhymed, unrhymed...whatever. I'll start off, posted as a reply:

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  • Dan Reynolds (3/21/2014 11:09:00 AM) Post reply

    Would Sherrie please refrain from responding directly to my posts?

  • James Timothy Jarrett (3/21/2014 10:52:00 AM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    Things I shouldn't know

    Possums not only smell nice, but if they really like you, they will put your hand in their pouch and groom you

    Cold raccoon hands on your butt are creepy

    A rattlesnake will bite the hand that feeds it

    Flying squirrels in your bedroom are hard to catch, but cute as hell

    Deep down inside, a wild rabbit will always think you want to eat it

    What it feels like to bounce off the ceiling when a house explodes because of a gas leak

    It is frightening when a squirrel goes into your mouth after peanuts and they are already gone

    When you get hit by lightning it sounds like rock and roll

    Lightning will strike twice

    You must feed a baby rabbit " Special poop" from an adult for it to survive

    When you jump from a third floor roof, your legs will go numb....Until the pain hits

    It is really bad if a rattlesnake wraps around your steering column while driving

    You can walk almost half a mile with a broken hip and pelvis

    What pee tastes like

    The sound your neck makes when it breaks

    You can catch a water moccasin 3 times by the neck before he catches on and bites you

    A woman will make you carry her through a mud puddle, even after you have been bitten by a water moccasin through an act of your own stupidity

    Yes, I am well aware it is not poetry. It is only to lighten up on Friday. I am sure everyone has their own list.

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    • Sherrie Kolb Cassel (3/22/2014 12:43:00 PM) Post reply

      I love the irony of the title, Mr. Jarrett. I also like the aphoristic style....little nuggets of shock-effect. I love it. Thanks for sharing.

    • Lamont Palmer (3/21/2014 6:50:00 PM) Post reply

      Sort of has a James Tate feel to the lines. Cleverly surreal. Did you write this yourself? Usually you post your name with your own work. -LP

    • Frank Ovid (3/21/2014 4:26:00 PM) Post reply

      Love it! (I have a weird sense of humor though)

  • Addy Adenawo (3/21/2014 8:27:00 AM) Post reply

    Happy poetry day fellow poets!

  • Stan Grossman (3/20/2014 9:49:00 PM) Post reply

    I don't feel good about our match-up with Michigan St. They do the same thing we do only better. We'll see.

  • Sherrie Kolb Cassel (3/20/2014 7:22:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    If Lamont Palmer would refrain from commenting directly to my posts, I shall do likewise.; o)

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  • Sherrie Kolb Cassel (3/20/2014 6:54:00 PM) Post reply

    Little known fact: it was really a woman who created (not discovered) fire. Sssssss....

  • Sherrie Kolb Cassel (3/20/2014 6:22:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    Oh, how I've missed you so....I'd forgotten how much I enjoy being the popular girl among the fat, pimply toads (or " pussycats" - retch) .....until we meet again....

    Snake Oil, Snake Bite

    By Dilruba Ahmed

    They staunched the wound with a stone.
    They drew blue venom from his blood
    until there was none.

    When his veins ran true his face remained
    lifeless and all the mothers of the village
    wept and pounded their chests until the sky had little choice
    but to grant their supplications. God made
    the boy breathe again.
    God breathes life into us, it is said,
    only once. But this case was an exception.
    God drew back in a giant gust and blew life into the boy
    and like a stranded fish, he shuddered, oceanless.

    It was true: the boy lived.
    He lived for a very long time. The toxins
    were an oil slick: contaminated, cleaned.
    But just as soon as the women
    kissed redness back into his cheeks
    the boy began to die again.
    He continued to die for the rest of ??his life.
    The dying took place slowly, sweetly.
    The dying took a very long time.

    Source: Poetry (November 2013) .

    Replies for this message:
    • Lamont Palmer (3/20/2014 6:44:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      Hey, don't get above yourself. You're up against me and JC for the All Time Most Talked About PH Member Award. Good luck. -LP

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  • Mike Acker (3/20/2014 5:42:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    Inside The Mind Of An Outsider

    I am here, inside the outside,
    you know. I have been here
    for a while now. You never know
    exactly when or how it comes about.

    The key is that once inside,
    you begin to belong, to get along
    with the others, here, outside.
    Morbidity morphs into the familiar

    and the comprehensible,
    once you're in the outside.
    I hear the others, inside,
    the ones who have not lost

    their mind yet, to find their way.
    Their wasted words still echo
    in my ears. They are sad for,
    sadness hasn't reached them yet,

    We talk, these insiders, and I,
    like two stars passing each other
    every night. Their light shines
    off me and mine does not. Neither

    cold nor warmth are exchanged.
    Neither recognizes the other,
    as they are still without, and I am now
    well within this outside.
    Mike Acker

    Replies for this message:
    • Atheanga Tiomaint (3/20/2014 8:04:00 PM) Post reply

      I find this poem very interesting. I don't share the previous poster's opinion. I believe it has a lot of depth. I especially like: " Morbidity morphs into the familiar and the comprehens ... more

    • Mike Acker (3/20/2014 7:43:00 PM) Post reply

      It's not a personal poem. That's OK though, I posted it here so I expect comments.

    • Sherrie Kolb Cassel (3/20/2014 6:44:00 PM) Post reply

      You know there have been huge advances in psych meds. Those voices can be silenced ... or at least reduced to an annoying drone. Oh, wait.... In all honesty, " Mike" ...this poem makes ... more

  • delilah contrapunctal (3/20/2014 4:36:00 PM) Post reply

    the half dozen Irwin Coreys....
    profound, replete with stories
    hold forth...... and fifth and sixth
    sometimes slipping in the pith...

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