Oh No. I just looked over some of todays posts and typos snuck in everywehre, and I don't think I ever did grasp punctuation. Now, I'm going to have to edit each and every one and I will not have time for anything else. I wonder if the Nanny could fix my posts. She's not an illegal and she went to grad school for English. She might even have her P.H.D. I'll ask her the minute she empties my 10 year old's drool cup.
Delmont's second to last poem before he passed. Untitled.
I saw your novel as elliptical
No, you said,"it's a period piece"
"MY." I replied.
That answer is parenthetical
Ugh, she said, resorting to onomatapeia
while I scribbled my poetry
adding a comma where it didn’t belong
making of this a dirge
when it could have been
a song.
long or short
it turned out
wrong as
an epic poem
a terse chapter,
not an everlasting tome
locked up within your pen
blanket statements filled in the blanks
assonance and dissonance
were weapons disposable to you as a scribe
but you pitted them against eachother
instead of makin em jibe
the dialogue became george constanza by way of Shakespeare and tona danza
you were too young to know about Mario lanza
Is this a stanza?
Never secure of the barometer used
To judge iambic pentameter
Never knew
if what I was feeling would fit
into haiku
rhyming fell out of fashion
and I had to find a way to unryhme my passion
in a way that seemed stranger than fiction
and without the help of diction.
No comments:
Post a Comment