Tomorrow I will take the skies
The Phoenix from the fire
But today you win
You win Ashes
Under your feet
Turn on the TV
Sit back and relax
Your world is Ash
“And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.”
– William Shakespeare
(from A Midsummer Night’s Dream)
It may sound romantic, but in search of that elusive metaphor, poets can be somewhat “eccentric.”
- If you date a poet everyone will think you are the jerk they are writing about.
- You will be the jerk they are writing about.
- They have an unnatural affection for book stores and office supply stores.
- They have deep conversations with Animals, Clouds, and Grecian Urns.
- Excessive use of “poetry hands.”
- Excessive abuse of “poetic licence.”
- Excessive use of “melancholy.”
- Excessive use of “dramatic emphasis.”
- They collect obscure words that have not been in circulation for at least 100 years or more.
- They insert these antediluvian words into conversations just to rebel.
- They think children’s books are sublime.
- They refuse to care where the remote is.
- All of their furniture are positioned around windows, for them to stare out for hours at a time.
- Your parents will think they are possessed.
- They are possessed.
- You will lose all arguments, or feel so guilty from causing them more emotional pain, you will wish you had lost.
- They will secretly judge your metaphors.
- They carry a notebook everywhere and let everyone see it but you.
- They hoard pens and refuse to let you borrow them.
- They are obsessed with incredibly depressing films.
- They listen to every single kind of music you can imagine, even Brazilian monkey howling listening for universal truth.
- They keep conversations going way too long.
- You will never know if they agree with you or are just following you down the rabbit hole to see how crazy you are.
- They will visit other rabbit holes.
- They can’t keep secrets. It will come out thinly veiled and mythologized in their poetry.
- It takes a least a week to a year for them to form their opinion, and that opinion is subject to change, because they are always questioning themselves.
- They speak in rhyme all the time.
- They talk to everyone, which a lot of people find scary, especially at the grocery store.
- They don’t understand why if murder, rape, slavery, and genocide are illegal, then why is war legal?
- They actually think people need to be protected from Monsanto, instead of protecting Monsanto.
- They do not understand why all of a sudden group “X” is hated by everyone.
- They don’t understand the global threat of Dandelions and why they must be eradicated the with toxic chemicals.
- They refuse to care about celebrities.
- They are rebels and purposely wear white shoes after Labor Day.
- They think espresso machines and tiny cups are magic.
They refuse to #textspeak. They invented #textspeak.
- They will make you empty out your head and heart like junk drawers and question everything in them.
- They can not live without passion.
- There will be drama.
- They crave plot twists.
- Their greatest fear is no will understand their allusions.
- They mine for emotional shrapnel like diamonds.
- Their euphemisms will never measure up.
- They can only live or visit cities with poetry open mics.
- Whatever is wrong, they have a tea for it, and probably a cookie, definitely a wine.
- They attempt to interject malapropisms into every conversation.
- They have their own antagonist and nemesis.
- They sneak dord into conversations in an attempt to make it a real word.
- They abuse asyndetons.
- But the most important reason never to date a poet is that poetry is an addiction, and before you know it, you will be the addict in search of your next metaphoric hit of universal truth.
So, You were warned!
Buddy Wakefield – Convenience Stores
Okay this is a story teller.
This is incredible and moving and I loved it.
I am not an English Major,
but this much I do know:
You cannot begin every sentence with an and, but, or so.
Every once in a while, maybe.
But every single one.
So, Every now and then.
The grammar police do not scare me. Hell No.
But every once in a while, write correctly,
if it is just for show.
Can I say something to introduce this. Hmmm… No I am not worthy.
It was that dream where I find myself waking up staring strait into the sun, and I realize I am floating face up in an inner-tube in the middle of the sea. Just as I realize where I am, I think, “how did I get here? oh yea this is a dream” and I roll over to go back to sleep, tumbling into the sea. As I sink, I don’t need to breath, I just sink. As I am sinking I am torn to pieces by a giant shark, and the world goes dark.
When I open my eyes, I am swimming, and swimming. I feel my powerful body. I am strong and driven. I swim and swim and never stop.
I am never going to find myself floating helplessly in the middle of the ocean again, I will never close my eyes again.
I am a shark.
In honor of National Poetry month, I would like to present a young woman with a very important message for the world. A sort of public service announcement for all of us, who find ourselves getting sucked into what the world says is important, but we all really know is not.