I was going to post on something else today. I probably will, later today. But after reading all the comments on my previous post on how poetry is nothing but broken prose (and there’s a lot of truth in that), I thought it would be fun to see if we can convert any of our recent blog posts into a poem.
The rules are simple:
1. Take any recent blog post of yours (say, not more than a few months old).
2. Hit the Enter key at random intervals.
3. Copy the poem you get into the Comment space on this blog. You have to add a link to the post it is from.
Or, if you like, you can do this as a tag.
What do you guys think? I know I had great fun doing mine in the comments section of the previous post. I was doubled over laughing at the results.
Here it is, again:
The first paragraph in my post on tulips. It’s not a particularly good poem, but it is a poem, what?
It would be even better if you can come up with something really funny 🙂
Gray Day. The rain
has been falling
steadily
for the last couple of days,
obliterating my sunny mood,
pouring water over any
weekend plans, and reminding me
of the cold winter days
I thought I had left behind.
But the rain is good
for my tulips.
The Imagined Universe 
There’s a sort of equanimity at the end. I liked that.
But you are clearly asking for trouble by saying “a poem is nothing but broken prose” 🙂
Here you go!
http://kowthas.wordpress.com/2008/05/13/bah-humbug/
So,
now that some breakthrough has happened
and
life isn’t all that bad and grumpy,
I have decided to give the mood a big kick on its bottom
and
send it scurrying outa me.
Yeah,
I am so sick of seeing sad sack face every day
(in case you are remotely wondering who sad sack is – it’s yours truly)
that I stepped out this afternoon,
took a walk around the pond near work
and
drowned the sad sack in the waters
and
brought the can’t-take-crap-no-more me back.
Here’s my humble effort:-
“men in business attire
unwinding with a glass of wine before going home
young couples kissing or holding hands
oblivious to the world around them
matrons with dogs in tow
old men in chequered caps reading the newspaper or staring emptily into space
For a gifted writer, I think to myself
every table can be the beginning
of a story.”
http://rada-steppingsideways.blogspot.com/2008/04/paris-diary-3.html
km: I am, and I know it 🙂 I am waiting for the wave of outrage 🙂
rads: The last 3 lines seem especially poetic. You didn’t intend the original post as a poem, did you 😉
rada: Lovely. Beautiful imagery – “old men in chequered caps reading newspapers.” I remember reading this post and being struck by that line – “every table can be the beginning of a story.” So true.
From a paragraph in this post
Snow Day
The blue glow
has faded to grey.
The sky is very cloudy
this morning, a far cry
from the clear contrailed colors
of yesterday morning.
Everything is covered
with about 2 inches of snow,
white except for the tracery
of fallen branches below the pin oak
and stark silhouettes of the trees all around.
My tiny but reliable “February fair maid”
snowdrops still lift their head out
defiantly through the snow,
daring the nearby daffodils and hyacinths
to take away from their moment of glory,
deceived as those have been
by the recent warm spells
into poking out from their winter’s rest.
I’ll have to admit, there is an art to positioning the line breaks- it wasn’t quite as random as I thought!
Excerpted from one of this post:
…Of yet unlimited Smiles
Across the faces I get to witness
Everyday…
Smiles of a confession
For a mistaken nudge on the side,
By the fellow commuter;
Smiles back in acknowledgment
Of a Smile;
Smiles in a dying anticipation of a signal
From the beautiful out-of-the-place face
In the crowd;
Smiles carried miles across –
On the cellphone while hanging in the train;
Smiles for just the thought,
Of finishing out the messed up journey;
Smiles out of a blush on a maiden’s face –
Of feeling gorgeous to have dressed up…
Primly in her favorite outfit;
Smiles for…just having walked out
A bright sunny day…
It’s such an irony isn’t it, that Poetry allows so much of freedom…no standards, no bounds…yet its such a cony little thing…and yardstick to measure its quality.
I often fear penning them, for they might turn pale the next day I read the same lines. Songwriting would be better I feel 🙂
i see deep sexual connotations in the last two lines. kudos!
Sujatha: Sigh, is that what poetry is reduced to, then? The art of positioning line breaks ? 😉
But you are right, if you do it right, it is very effective. I read your post first, and I thought the last paragraph was good, but it still seemed better when it was broken up into bite sized thoughts…
A: That post is really a long poem, isn’t it? You write beautifully..
I agree on poetry allowing more freedom. I also find poetry easier to write, partly because it is so short, but also because I can ramble on with my disjointed thoughts and it would still seem perfectly normal.
aniche: I am glad to see you de-lurking on my blog. But as for your comment, all I can say is – must be projection 😛
Hey! I wrote something along similar lines many moons ago. Here’s the link – http://imamwapsoro.blogspot.com/2007/10/understanding-modern-poetry.html