Welcome to the very last day of Michael Jarmer’s contribution to National Poetry Writing Month. The optional assignment for this last day of these poetic festivities from the napowrimo website reads like this: “Today, I challenge you to write a poem backwards. Start with the last line and work your way up the page toContinue reading “#172: A Backwards Poem”
Tag Archives: National Poetry Writing Month
#171: Penultimate Poem for April: A Review of Last Night’s Tantrum
Last night’s temper tantrum was a resounding success. Let us consider the salient features of the tantrum and see to what heights of glory were reached by last night’s specimen. Usually, a tantrum begins with some struggle right before bedtime, typically involving the cessation of play and the transition upstairs. This was most clearly evident. Ad electronics. ThereContinue reading “#171: Penultimate Poem for April: A Review of Last Night’s Tantrum”
#170: Bridges
My mother hated bridges. She hated driving; she would do it if she absolutely had to, but she would never drive across a bridge. She did not trust them to support her or she did not trust herself to drive straight across, afraid of a fatal tack to the left or to the right, into oncomingContinue reading “#170: Bridges”
#169: Freshmen Boys
My 7th period class is chaos. Boys trapped in their teenage bodies don’t know how to do anything; even being human is too difficult. Listening, completely out of the question. Seriousness, a concept that doesn’t register. Respect, never heard the word before. Girls, poor things, are sadly outnumbered, know what’s up and ignore boys. They will wait,Continue reading “#169: Freshmen Boys”
#168: Barack Obama Speaks of Mirrors
Barack Obama Speaks of Mirrors What I see. Damn, I am handsome and my wife is beautiful and my children–exceptional. Hands down, I am the most handsome president in the history of these United States of America. I, too, am perhaps the funniest. Did you see my spiel at the White House Correspondents Dinner? Damn,Continue reading “#168: Barack Obama Speaks of Mirrors”
#167: Sir Spam A Lot (a found poem)
From time to time, believe it or not, I receive spam comments through my little blog site. They are often poorly written, sometimes hilariously so. And they remain a complete mystery to me: Where do they come from? What is their purpose? What could the originator of the message, be it a real live human orContinue reading “#167: Sir Spam A Lot (a found poem)”
#164: O Miranda
O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in’t. O Miranda O Miranda, I, too, have known tempests; I, too, have been separated from a father; I, too, know the feeling of beauty, goodness, or courage creeping through a bit atContinue reading “#164: O Miranda”
#162: Emerson’s The Poet (An Erasure)
Those umpires admired pictures beautiful souls They are selfish dry wood Some study of rules limited judgement It is a proof of beauty that men seem to put into our bodies the spirit and the organ the germination
#160: About These Things There Can Be No Question
It’s April 20 and I know some things. It’s not my birthday. I know that for sure. No question. It was hot today, eighty-five degrees, clear sky and my bicycle ride home was uneventful. I know a hawk from a handsaw. I gave up my prep period today to sign exit paperwork for the ELDContinue reading “#160: About These Things There Can Be No Question”
#156: The Desire to Write a Terzanelle
The desire to write a terzanelle runs smack dab up against too much shit to do as well. I don’t want to feel incensed, about constantly fighting time, running smack dab up against the incessant daily grind and all of my complaining about constantly fighting time. The afternoon is waning and pretty soon it will be darkContinue reading “#156: The Desire to Write a Terzanelle”
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