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Banbury Cross

a pillow for lost thoughts...

Post details: One Poetrick Pony

One Poetrick Pony

Having to write a poem is kind of like having to kiss a girl. Neither should be done on cue.

This summer I decided to take a writing class, since I think that my ability to express myself in English is still sorely lagging behind my Czech. And although I expected the class to be slanted towards prose, the first two meetings were devoted to poetry. So here is what I coughed up.

This week's assignment was a poem written as a dramatic monologue.

(a reflection of a disgruntled mirror)

how did i end up with this kinko job
making endless copies of reality
for every little twerp and snob

i want to play with my reflectees
tweak their shapes and colors
i want to squirt dijon on powdered noses
put whipped cream in a razor's path
i want to tie yellow ribbons around biceps
and stick my tongue at prissy girls

instead i am stuck on this scaly wall
and when the darkness obviates my duties
i wonder who is the fairest of them all

And here is one from last week that was supposed to be based on a list.

(principles of soporific accounting)

just before i fall asleep
i hardly ever count my sheep

instead i enumerate the quirky birds
migrating across the sky of my memory
magpies with their shiny trinkets
a stork carrying a yellow binky
cardinals just tried their bunting
a siege of herons on the lam
never have too many egrets
can you spare a drinking swallow
a pair of seagulls on a dam
some cuckoos toiling round the clock
and eagles from the golfing course
sometimes i can see them all

my thoughts falling back into a chocolate sea
like silver dollars craving its murky floor
like tired birds on their southbound trail
like buds on the dangling tongues of dreams

right before i fall asleep
i can feel the ocean seep


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