Tag Archives: bad poetry oh noetry

Bandwagons

A very terrible villanelle

You’re probably familiar with the villanelle as a poetic form because of Dylan Thomas and “Do not go gentle into that good night,” which besides being a terrific example of the form is a really sad and lovely poem.

The following, on the other hand, is

A far cry from Dylan Thomas
I will not write a villanelle;
I’d rather curl up with a book.
But I can’t think of a thing to write.

November had me under its spell;
its writing project I undertook.
But I will not write a villanelle.

Buzzfeed, Facebook and Jezebel,
all distractions of which I’ve betook
when I couldn’t think of a thing to write.

November continues to compel
me to churn out this gobbledygook
but I will not write a villanelle.

Pretty maids and cockleshells,
an empty old sketchbook.
And I can’t think of a thing to write.

I never said I’d write them well,
these poetic forms I’ve forsook.
And I wouldn’t write a villanelle,
But I can’t think of anything else to write.

Somewhat related: Whenever I think of Dylan Thomas, I think of Simon and Garfunkel.

Bandwagons

A found poem

1 Comment

Found poetry feels a little bit like cheating to me. You pull words and lines from existing sources and reform them to your own purposes. Here’s one I cobbled together from Chapter 42 of “Moby Dick.”

But I “wrote” one anyway, and here it is:

Found Poem

What he was to me could not awaken some alarm,
its intensity so that I almost despair of it.
The whiteness of the whale above all things
might be naught.
Modern kings mark a joyful day; and though
sweet, and honourable, and sublime, there yet lurks
terror, transcendent horrors, ghastly whiteness.
Those clouds of spiritual wonderment and pale dread.
I have frequently seen the thing —
the archangelical apparition loathed by his own,
strangely hideous.
Her ghost is lingering there.
We fail while these terrors seize us,
But let us try.

Bandwagons, National Blog Posting Month

A cinquain is a five-lined poem, and I wrote one.

5 Comments
comics by Drew

I hadn’t heard of the cinquain before I decided to write some poems for NaBloPoMo. It’s a poetry form developed by a lady named Adelaide Crapsey — I know — who was a fan of Japanese poetry forms such as haiku. You can see that influence in the cinquain, which is a five-line poem consisting of 22 syllables (two syllables in the first line, four in the second, six in the third, eight in the fourth and two in the last line).

I like a good firmly structured poem, don’t you? And so here it is, my first-ever attempt at a cinquain. I hope Ms. Crapsey would enjoy it.

This Is

Football.
Saturday night.
He’s on the couch, and I’m
online; it’s the closest we’ve been
all week.