(no subject)
Does it often happen that when you put your music player of choice on shuffle, something really serendipitous happens?
Immortal Technique's "You Never Know" followed by the Counting Crows version of "Big Yellow Taxi." Weird. Daft Punk's "Da Funk" made the weirdness go away.
Ok, so... My version of nanowrimo isn't going particularly well, seeing as it generally takes me a week of sitting on a poem before it's "finished," and even then, I finish very few to a satisfactory degree. So I guess all of the ones I post here will be second drafts. of sorts.
So here are the two I've gotten so far. Yes I know it's November 3rd. Go away.
This one is called "Rebecca" and was written, for the most part, yesterday.
You called me, said
I was something
Better than poetry.
But what could surpass
The things you whisper
When we’re lounging
On the divan,
Curled around our mocha cups
Discussing Prufrock
And elephant shrews?
What’s better than singing
On hardwood floors
The songs that remind us
Of that year
And those times.
You know all the words
To that year, those times, those songs
That I’m thinking of.
If I was my own world
I would always be
Dull and selfish and unpoetic.
But even I’m not a continent alone.
And when I’m thinking of you
While I’m writing or dancing
Or singing along to songs
That you sing along to, too.
Or when you think of me.
That’s when we’re poetry.
And number two... Pan and Pirates...
“Responsibility
is a lie”
the fairy told me
while I slept
and she-he-it
hovered,
spirit fingers playing
with the cords of my hair.
“But I’m not so strong,”
I had to say,
though no words came out.
“I want to be grown up.
I want to drive,
and drink (at
separate times)
and talk of
Quantum Physics
on the phone.”
Now I wish,
that she-he-it
would fly back to my
big kid’s bed
with another chance
to play Pan and Pirates
and to never,
ever,
grow old.
Immortal Technique's "You Never Know" followed by the Counting Crows version of "Big Yellow Taxi." Weird. Daft Punk's "Da Funk" made the weirdness go away.
Ok, so... My version of nanowrimo isn't going particularly well, seeing as it generally takes me a week of sitting on a poem before it's "finished," and even then, I finish very few to a satisfactory degree. So I guess all of the ones I post here will be second drafts. of sorts.
So here are the two I've gotten so far. Yes I know it's November 3rd. Go away.
This one is called "Rebecca" and was written, for the most part, yesterday.
You called me, said
I was something
Better than poetry.
But what could surpass
The things you whisper
When we’re lounging
On the divan,
Curled around our mocha cups
Discussing Prufrock
And elephant shrews?
What’s better than singing
On hardwood floors
The songs that remind us
Of that year
And those times.
You know all the words
To that year, those times, those songs
That I’m thinking of.
If I was my own world
I would always be
Dull and selfish and unpoetic.
But even I’m not a continent alone.
And when I’m thinking of you
While I’m writing or dancing
Or singing along to songs
That you sing along to, too.
Or when you think of me.
That’s when we’re poetry.
And number two... Pan and Pirates...
“Responsibility
is a lie”
the fairy told me
while I slept
and she-he-it
hovered,
spirit fingers playing
with the cords of my hair.
“But I’m not so strong,”
I had to say,
though no words came out.
“I want to be grown up.
I want to drive,
and drink (at
separate times)
and talk of
Quantum Physics
on the phone.”
Now I wish,
that she-he-it
would fly back to my
big kid’s bed
with another chance
to play Pan and Pirates
and to never,
ever,
grow old.