Tag Archives: poetry

Take a Look, It’s on a Book: Book Title Poem

9 Feb

I was sick last week with a bugger of a cold and gave myself a pass from blogging. I thought I was going to have to wuss out of this week’s post, too, since I had no news, no motivation, and no clue what to write. Unfortunately, this is getting to be a familiar feeling. You remember my New Years resolution to maintain a habit of creative writing? Yeah, not going so well. My Giraffe Story is giving me problems because I can’t decide who’s narrating/what perspective is most appropriate to write from. It’s not exactly writer’s block….more like a split personality disorder. I have–no joke–six drafts saved that are ALL from different perspectives.

We are not amused.

So I’ve abandoned the Giraffe Story for the time being, just until I can sort myself out. Today I played with a horse of a different color. I was really impressed and inspired by Judy Clement Wall’s post This One is a Poem on her blog Zebra Sounds. She wrote a really lovely poem composed almost entirely of book titles. Is that a great idea, or what?

Do you know where this is going? Yes, I totally stole her idea.

It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was time consuming and guilt-inducing. (While going through my bookshelves to collect titles, I realized how many books I own that I have yet to read…) I still haven’t put all the books that I used back on their shelves. (Ugh. Seems like a lot of work.)  But it was fun! You should try it! I like the prettiness of Judy’s poem better–and don’t get me started on my photography skills–but clearly poetry is a window to the soul and mine is trying to get a message out…
(Read the poem in normal text after the photos) 


Humor Me:
What should I do with my life?

This is a story of
A girl named disaster
playing with books
becoming a writer
the real pretend

She is
the woman warrior,
the bitch in the house,
the blind assassin
searching for Mercy Street.

Watch her
the art of choosing,
one hundred demons
the known world
till the cows come home

The funny thing is,
the heroine’s bookshelf
a map of the world
a gesture life
a contract with God

the plot thickens
the awakening
the 3 am epiphany
when you are engulfed in flames
where the lightening strikes
seeing things
truth and beauty
wild magic


If My Dogs Wrote Haikus

13 Apr

I’ve tried to train you
but still, you sit on my couch
No! Bad human! bad!


You smell like a dog.
You smell like another dog.
Scoundrel! Traitor! Slut!


I dream of running
of chasing squirrels and such
Wake me if you dare.


We’re out for a walk
Look! Here comes another dog.
My sidewalk! All mine!


You’ve been gone so long!
It’s been years and years and years.
Now, the world is right.

Noise! I hear a noise!

Do you hear it? Do you? Huh?
Why do you shush me? 


Don’t insult me, please.
That dog is just on t.v
I know that, you fool.


My bowl is empty.
Your plate is full of good food.
The universe sucks.


I have a big day.
Nap, bark, eat, play, nap, nap, nap
Whew! Workaholic!

My Current State of Life…in Poetry

23 Mar

Introspective Reflection
by Ogden Nash

I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance
Were it not for making a living, which is rather a nouciance.

The Far-Sighted Muse
by Dorothy Parker
from Not Much Fun: The Lost Poems of Dorothy Parker

Dark though the clouds, they are silver-lined;
         (This is the stuff that they like to read.)
If Winter comes, Spring is right behind;
         (This is the stuff that the people need.)
Smile, and the World will smile back at you;
         Aim with a grin, and you cannot miss;
Laugh off your woes, and you won’t feel blue.
         (Poetry pays when it’s done like this.)

Whatever it is, is completely sweet;
         (This is the stuff that will bring in gold.)
Just to be living’s a perfect treat;
         (This is the stuff that will knock them cold.)
How could we, any of us, be sad?
         Always our blessings outweighing our ills;
Always there’s something to make us glad.
        (This is the way you can pay your bills.)

Everything’s great, in this good old world;
        (This is the stuff they can always use.)
God’s in His heaven, the hill’s dew-pearled;
        (This will provide for the baby’s shoes.)
Hunger and War, do not mean a thing;
        Everything’s rosey, where’er we roam;
Hark, how the little birds gaily sing!
        (This is what fetches the bacon home.)

It Couldn’t Be Done
Edgar Albert Guest

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done,
But he with a chuckle replied
That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one
Who wouldn’t say so ‘til he’d tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it;”
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn’t be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.

Obviously, none of these poems are mine. Today just felt like a day where someone else could say (and rhyme)  it better. I’ll be back with my own words soon, but who couldn’t use some poetry in the middle of the week?

How are you poetically feeling today?