The Freelance Dilettante

what i want to be when i grow up

Month: April, 2013

30 Poems in 30 Days: Day Two

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On the Couch 

 Where we never are,

there are clothes in neat piles

and sometimes a cat.

 

It’s comfy,

and long enough for two, yet

where do we end up, but

 

curled in bed, like cats,

eating nuts and watching endless

murder.

 

On Saturday afternoons you watch 

Bloody Korean films and I type restlessly

Facebooking away the hours and 

 

watching videos of cranky cats

 

Sometimes then we snuggle

front to back

sleeping until the sun begins to

 

sink.

 

We are never on the couch,

where there are clothes

in neat piles

and sometimes a cat. 

 

 And…My least favorite poem.

I don’t actually have one. There are a lot of good poems, a lot of bad poems. I like may writers in many genres, but not every writer in every genre. Poetry is very subjective, so I’m not going to go on record here saying “This poem sucks.”

Well, except this one. 

Last year, as a challenge I wrote a…

Bad Love Poem

Because I love you, I feel pain
Because I love you, I walk in the rain
Because I love you, my feet are aching
Because I love you, my heart is breaking

Because I hate you, I called you a louse
Because I hate you, I burned down your house,
Because I hate you I told you to fuck off
Because I hate you, I jacked your duck off

Come back to me and I’ll stop talking
Come back to me, and you I’ll stop stalking
Come back to me or you’ll wish you were dead
Come back to me or I’ll cut off your head.

I gave you this poem so the voices would stop
I gave you this poem and you called the cops
I gave you this poem cause you’re such a whore
They’re publishing this poem on poetry.org

Now I’ll be famous, and then you’ll see
Now I’ll be famous, you’ll wish you were with me
Now I’ll be famous, I can get laid all the time
Now I’ll be famous, and you will be the one crying boo-hoo-hoo, you big ugly , mugly, fugly, slugly slime.

 

 I feel cheerily confident in the suckitude of this poem. It is trite in topic, and has bad meter and rhyme. It mentions rain and pain and is all about personal emotions that do not touch the universal. If you disagree, then you’re more than welcome to your love of my bad poetry. 🙂

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30 Poems in 30 Days: Day One

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From Start to Finish 

It started with a note, you said you’d be my friend

Even if the other girls thought you were a bitch and wouldn’t

associate with you. It was Jr. High, eighth grade,

and I was high on a last year’s friendship

With the first girl who ever found me cool.

I said yes; I deserved a new friend.

Only you could understand me like you do.

Those years we never attached

at the hip, just the heart.

Time and distance could never break it.

We married two weeks apart, and years later

divorced in tandem, though miles and lives apart.

And now, we’re married to Engineers,

both from foreign lands: still in synch.

At the finish, you will still be the girl I loved

In green converse, that ex-axe-murdering Michael Jackson impersonator

renegade cowboy, R.P. Johnson,

And I will be the boy-crazy poet,

my Chucks mustard yellow, grunge before grunge was cool:

Wild-eyed pornographic jazzman, P.C. Smith.

At the finish, I pray, we will be old old ladies.

I dream we will rock on the porch and watch your grandchildren

Nurse their babies, and still, over all the years, and loves and loss,

have so much more to talk about,

So much laughter to share.

And …the last poem I read:

A Word to Husbands

To keep your marriage brimming
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
Whenever you’re right, shut up.

~Ogden Nash

Dillettangentially Delayed: National Poetry Month is Here

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I just made up a word there, by smooshing two words together. That was pretty cool. How Lewis Carroll of me!As a poet, you can do that. You can also do that if you are a stoner. I’m only one of those, and I’ll leave it to you to decide which one it is.

April is National Poetry Month, and since I have been “in transition,” I thought I’d challenge myself a bit by writing and posting some poetry to this here lonely blog. I looked up “poetry challenges,” and of course, found the Tumblr 30 Poems in 30 Days Challenge  that I half-completed last year. No way I’m going to force myself to ever write another effing acrostic, however, I did put it aside as I never officially finished the challenge.  I found several others, and if you dig back far enough in your search engine of choice, I’m sure the possibilities are practically fathomless.

So, I am going to post some poems: some mine, and some belonging to others (usually one of each) for each day of April. Of course, I’m a bit behind, so skooch over, children, and let me get all up on in there. I’ve got some words to wrangle.

Here are a few challenges if you want to try some of your own. I’d love to see the results!

Poets and Writers Magazine Challenge

Writer’s Digest 2012 Challenge

30/30 Poetry Challenge 2013  (one new prompt per day)

Fuck Art, Let’s Write

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I have been having a hard time keeping up with this blog for many reasons, most of which I blame conveniently on “transition.” There have been a few, but honestly, there will be more, and then others, all of which, if used as a convenient scapegoat, will derail my writing permanently.

The real culprit is my old nemesis perfectionism, and the narrow-minded inner critic that decided, for no particularly good reason, that since I am a writer, who wants to work as a writer, this blog needs to be about writing. Now, what the hell does that mean? I have a few as of yet unpublished posts who are just sitting in the queue right now because they need to be plumped up and polished like apples on display: they are essays on the art of writing. In the meantime, actual bloggers are getting off their asses and blogging daily. Now, who is the writer?

I have come to the conclusion that any art there is to writing in a blog lies in the writing of it, and that blog should consist of writing, pure and simple. Here goes everything.