Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is to list your layers of identity, then divide them into things that make you feel vulnerable and things that make you feel strong, then select something from each list and have a sort of dialogue between them. I wasn't crazy about this prompt, but I tried to come up with something, so here is a bit of light, silly verse.
The Ugly Poet
I have my weaknesses
but I can compensate.
My teeth are crooked
but my lines are straight.
I may be overweight,
out of shape and flabby,
but people always tell me
my writing's not too shabby.
My hair is thinning
but things could be worse.
My head may look funny
but it is chock full of verse.
I look like a Ferengi
because of my big ears,
but I write poetry
as good as Shakespeare's!
OK, maybe I flatter
myself just a tad.
I'm not as good as Shakespeare
but at least I'm not half bad. - Jeff Barnes
Saturday, April 7, 2018
Friday, April 6, 2018
NaPoWriMo, Day 6
Today's NaPoWriMo prompt: "Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that stretches your comfort zone with line breaks. That could be a poem with very long lines, or very short lines." I went with long lines, and I went completely surreal.
One Fine Day in April
"A shark jumped out of the river and somersaulted over the bridge,"
said the newscaster who was reporting live from inside my fridge.
Suddenly an octopus flew past my house playing eight tambourines.
He said he was going on vacation for a week in the Philippines.
Then a woman knocked on my door and said, "I have something for you,"
and she gave me a white rose that was planted in a dirty shoe.
After she left I shrugged and said, "I don't know what to make of that."
"Just use it as a centerpiece," suggested my tabby cat.
"I guess I could," I said. "I've seen things more absurd,
like the time my faithful goldfish morphed into a bird
then flew away and got married to a vampire bat."
"Yes, I remember when that happened," said my tabby cat.
They sent me a postcard from Scotland, where they went on their honeymoon.
I still think of them whenever I watch the movie "Brigadoon."
An old man looked in my window. He had a sunflower growing out of his head.
"I can't take this anymore!" I said, then pulled down the shade and went back to bed.
I was awakened by an airplane that landed in my yard.
"How'd you do that?" I asked the pilot, and he said, "It wasn't hard."
A naked lady passed by. She played an accordion while riding a unicycle.
She was being followed closely by the archangel Michael.
"Good heavens!" I shouted. "This is something I didn't foresee!"
"Please help me!" said the lady. "Make that angel stop chasing me!"
At that moment a green tentacle came up from the ground.
It wrapped around archangel Michael and disappeared without a sound.
The airplane pilot shook my hand and said, "I really must be going.
I'm flying to Chicago to apply for a job with Boeing."
I wished him good luck and then a moose driving a Cadillac
pulled into my driveway and asked me for directions to Hackensack.
I looked at my road atlas to see which way he should go
when suddenly he was beamed aboard a passing UFO.
I said, "I hope those guys from space will take him to where he wants to be."
Then I went back into the house and made a cup of tea.
My cat was listening to the Chieftains while doing an Irish jig.
I love my cat but he has all the grace of a bow legged, drunken pig.
Just then my phone rang but I didn't want to talk,
so I put on my top hat and I went outside to take a walk.
I walked past the train station and went into a coffee shop.
A pretty waitress smiled at me and then removed her top.
She had a tattoo of George Washington right between her boobs.
She brought me a cup of coffee and a bowl of sugar cubes.
I said, "I think I'm in a time and place where I don't belong."
"Nonsense," she said. "You can stay here and drink coffee all day long.
I have nobody to talk to except for Roscoe, my pet mouse."
I paid the bill and left a tip, then ran all the way back to my house.
When i got home my phone was still ringing. My cat was quite annoyed.
"Go ahead and answer it," he said. "Why are you so paranoid?"
I reluctantly picked up the receiver and I said, "Hello?"
The voice on the other end said, "This is Neil. I'd like to talk to Joe."
"There's no one named Joe here," I said. "You must have dialed the wrong number."
I hung up the phone and made a sandwich of hummus and sliced cucumber,
taco sauce and peanut butter on toasted Italian bread.
And, putting an end to a typical day, I went upstairs to bed. -- Jeff Barnes
One Fine Day in April
"A shark jumped out of the river and somersaulted over the bridge,"
said the newscaster who was reporting live from inside my fridge.
Suddenly an octopus flew past my house playing eight tambourines.
He said he was going on vacation for a week in the Philippines.
Then a woman knocked on my door and said, "I have something for you,"
and she gave me a white rose that was planted in a dirty shoe.
After she left I shrugged and said, "I don't know what to make of that."
"Just use it as a centerpiece," suggested my tabby cat.
"I guess I could," I said. "I've seen things more absurd,
like the time my faithful goldfish morphed into a bird
then flew away and got married to a vampire bat."
"Yes, I remember when that happened," said my tabby cat.
They sent me a postcard from Scotland, where they went on their honeymoon.
I still think of them whenever I watch the movie "Brigadoon."
An old man looked in my window. He had a sunflower growing out of his head.
"I can't take this anymore!" I said, then pulled down the shade and went back to bed.
I was awakened by an airplane that landed in my yard.
"How'd you do that?" I asked the pilot, and he said, "It wasn't hard."
A naked lady passed by. She played an accordion while riding a unicycle.
She was being followed closely by the archangel Michael.
"Good heavens!" I shouted. "This is something I didn't foresee!"
"Please help me!" said the lady. "Make that angel stop chasing me!"
At that moment a green tentacle came up from the ground.
It wrapped around archangel Michael and disappeared without a sound.
The airplane pilot shook my hand and said, "I really must be going.
I'm flying to Chicago to apply for a job with Boeing."
I wished him good luck and then a moose driving a Cadillac
pulled into my driveway and asked me for directions to Hackensack.
I looked at my road atlas to see which way he should go
when suddenly he was beamed aboard a passing UFO.
I said, "I hope those guys from space will take him to where he wants to be."
Then I went back into the house and made a cup of tea.
My cat was listening to the Chieftains while doing an Irish jig.
I love my cat but he has all the grace of a bow legged, drunken pig.
Just then my phone rang but I didn't want to talk,
so I put on my top hat and I went outside to take a walk.
I walked past the train station and went into a coffee shop.
A pretty waitress smiled at me and then removed her top.
She had a tattoo of George Washington right between her boobs.
She brought me a cup of coffee and a bowl of sugar cubes.
I said, "I think I'm in a time and place where I don't belong."
"Nonsense," she said. "You can stay here and drink coffee all day long.
I have nobody to talk to except for Roscoe, my pet mouse."
I paid the bill and left a tip, then ran all the way back to my house.
When i got home my phone was still ringing. My cat was quite annoyed.
"Go ahead and answer it," he said. "Why are you so paranoid?"
I reluctantly picked up the receiver and I said, "Hello?"
The voice on the other end said, "This is Neil. I'd like to talk to Joe."
"There's no one named Joe here," I said. "You must have dialed the wrong number."
I hung up the phone and made a sandwich of hummus and sliced cucumber,
taco sauce and peanut butter on toasted Italian bread.
And, putting an end to a typical day, I went upstairs to bed. -- Jeff Barnes
Thursday, April 5, 2018
NaPoWriMo, Day 5
I started following today's NaPoWriMo prompt, and my poem took on a life of its own.
Feathers Fall, Dancing
Feathers fall, dancing
in the wind like leaves.
The gray sky is crisscrossed
with branches of fruitless trees.
They look like bony fingers
that try to clutch the air.
A crow's caw sounds like nothing
except a useless prayer.
The genius of the universe
is that it never regrets.
Everything is a whirlwind
and nothing ever rests. - Jeff Barnes
Feathers Fall, Dancing
Feathers fall, dancing
in the wind like leaves.
The gray sky is crisscrossed
with branches of fruitless trees.
They look like bony fingers
that try to clutch the air.
A crow's caw sounds like nothing
except a useless prayer.
The genius of the universe
is that it never regrets.
Everything is a whirlwind
and nothing ever rests. - Jeff Barnes
Wednesday, April 4, 2018
NaPoWriMo, Day 4
Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem about an abstraction using concrete verbs. I took the concept of a misfit (easy for me) and wrote this.
Misfit
He's a submarine in the desert,
a glob of spinach on an apple pie,
a polar bear in a Florida swamp,
a water buffalo in the sky.
He's a coffee table glued to the ceiling,
a fish behind the wheel of a car,
an octopus at the top of Mount Everest,
a dill pickle in a jelly jar.
He's a bathtub in a dining room,
a bass guitar string on a violin,
a jigsaw piece without a puzzle
wondering where he can possibly fit in. - Jeff Barnes
Misfit
He's a submarine in the desert,
a glob of spinach on an apple pie,
a polar bear in a Florida swamp,
a water buffalo in the sky.
He's a coffee table glued to the ceiling,
a fish behind the wheel of a car,
an octopus at the top of Mount Everest,
a dill pickle in a jelly jar.
He's a bathtub in a dining room,
a bass guitar string on a violin,
a jigsaw piece without a puzzle
wondering where he can possibly fit in. - Jeff Barnes
Tuesday, April 3, 2018
NaPoWriMo, Day 3
Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is to write "a list poem in which all the items are made-up names." Maureen recommended made-up band names as a possibility, so I ran with it. I didn't want to do a mere list, so I tried to build a story around it.
Sage
I first saw her in the Crucified Octopus Coffee House.
She wore a Lutefisk Rage t-shirt.
I worked up my nerve to approach her
and when I did, I asked about the shirt.
She told me that Lutefisk Rage was a punk band
from Sleepy Eye, Minnesota and said
that I bore a slight resemblance to their bass player.
"I hope that's a good thing," I said and she just smiled
and said her name was Sage.
I asked if I could buy her a coffee and she smiled again,
so I took that as a yes. The barista who brought
us our coffee was wearing a Political Fellatio
t-shirt. She said she had bought it at their concert
last September, when they were touring with
Ernie Plays With Guns as their warm up band.
Sage asked me what my favorite band was
and I said The Martian Beatniks. She said she
had never heard them, so I invited her to my place
to listen to their music. "I hope that's not
inappropriate," I said. "I mean,
I don't know if you have a significant other."
"It's fine," she said. "I broke up with my boyfriend
last month because he was mean, the sex was lousy
and he had quit bathing and brushing his teeth."
"Ugh!" I said.
"Really!" she said. "Besides, he had terrible taste
in music. His favorite band was Annie Spans the Canyon."
"Oh, shit!" I said. "I'd rather listen to geese in a washing machine."
"I've never heard of them," she said.
"No," I said. "That's not a band. It's just an expression I made up."
"Oh," she said. "Still, that would be a cool band name."
"I guess it would," I said.
She liked The Martian Beatniks a lot and ended up
spending the night. I made breakfast in the morning --
coffee and Cap'n Crunch, if you consider that making breakfast,
and she told me she had tickets to the Another Dead Fish
concert Saturday and asked if I'd like to go.
"Hell yes!" I said, and we've been inseparable ever since.
I knew she was serious about me when she took me
to meet her parents. There was a Roadside Corn Flakes
concert poster on their living room wall and her father
was wearing a Minister Goat t-shirt.
She took me aside and whispered in my ear,
"You'll have to forgive Daddy. He's such a square." - Jeff Barnes
Sage
I first saw her in the Crucified Octopus Coffee House.
She wore a Lutefisk Rage t-shirt.
I worked up my nerve to approach her
and when I did, I asked about the shirt.
She told me that Lutefisk Rage was a punk band
from Sleepy Eye, Minnesota and said
that I bore a slight resemblance to their bass player.
"I hope that's a good thing," I said and she just smiled
and said her name was Sage.
I asked if I could buy her a coffee and she smiled again,
so I took that as a yes. The barista who brought
us our coffee was wearing a Political Fellatio
t-shirt. She said she had bought it at their concert
last September, when they were touring with
Ernie Plays With Guns as their warm up band.
Sage asked me what my favorite band was
and I said The Martian Beatniks. She said she
had never heard them, so I invited her to my place
to listen to their music. "I hope that's not
inappropriate," I said. "I mean,
I don't know if you have a significant other."
"It's fine," she said. "I broke up with my boyfriend
last month because he was mean, the sex was lousy
and he had quit bathing and brushing his teeth."
"Ugh!" I said.
"Really!" she said. "Besides, he had terrible taste
in music. His favorite band was Annie Spans the Canyon."
"Oh, shit!" I said. "I'd rather listen to geese in a washing machine."
"I've never heard of them," she said.
"No," I said. "That's not a band. It's just an expression I made up."
"Oh," she said. "Still, that would be a cool band name."
"I guess it would," I said.
She liked The Martian Beatniks a lot and ended up
spending the night. I made breakfast in the morning --
coffee and Cap'n Crunch, if you consider that making breakfast,
and she told me she had tickets to the Another Dead Fish
concert Saturday and asked if I'd like to go.
"Hell yes!" I said, and we've been inseparable ever since.
I knew she was serious about me when she took me
to meet her parents. There was a Roadside Corn Flakes
concert poster on their living room wall and her father
was wearing a Minister Goat t-shirt.
She took me aside and whispered in my ear,
"You'll have to forgive Daddy. He's such a square." - Jeff Barnes
Monday, April 2, 2018
NaPoWriMo, Day 2
Following (sort of) today's NaPoWriMo prompt, I tried to write a poem in three different voices, but I did it in haiku form. I am not entirely happy with it, but the prompt didn't really spark much in me, so this is what I came up with.
Haiku Triptych
I hate cold Easters!
It's supposed to be springtime
and now we've got snow!
You love complaining!
No matter what the weather,
you're never happy!
Their only pleasure
is sparring with each other.
What a strange marriage. - Jeff Barnes
Haiku Triptych
I hate cold Easters!
It's supposed to be springtime
and now we've got snow!
You love complaining!
No matter what the weather,
you're never happy!
Their only pleasure
is sparring with each other.
What a strange marriage. - Jeff Barnes
Sunday, April 1, 2018
NaPoWriMo, Day 1
First off, I would like to thank Maureen for featuring this blog on today's NaPoWriMo posting! I am greatly honored! Thank you, Maureen!
Well, we are at the first official day, and the prompt is to write a poem about a secret shame or a secret pleasure. Maureen mentioned bad movies among the secret pleasure. They are been a secret (okay, not so secret, to be honest) pleasure of mine for years, and I came up with this poem about one of my favorites, Plan 9 from Outer Space. I hope Ed Wood, bless his memory, would have enjoyed this for the tribute to him that it is. Thank you for all the entertainment, Ed!
Who Else But Ed?
Who but Ed Wood could take two brief film clips
of an aging, ailing Bela Lugosi
and from this craft an alien invasion
spearheaded by a drag queen actor
who looked bored by the whole thing
as he sat behind his wooden desk
amid curtains and junky 1950s
radio equipment, giving orders
to his two inept crew members
all in a plan, the ninth such,
to take over planet Earth
by reviving the dead
and building an army of zombies
led by a chiropractor slinking around
with a cape covering his face
presuming to fill the late Lugosi's shoes,
with his zombie wife, Vampira
in her too sexy for burial dress,
and Tor Johnson, the Swedish Angel,
whose face was so scary
it became a popular Halloween mask?
Who else could get a Baptist church
to fund such a venture in filmmaking
in exchange for baptisms of cast members
and the promise of huge profits?
Who but Ed Wood, decades after his death in obscurity,
could have us watch so raptly in our darkened rooms
black and white television images
of Los Angeles under siege
by flying hubcaps, pizza pans and paper plates?
Who else would make us wonder
if this ninth plan by an advanced alien race
was so lame, what the first eight plans
might have been? - Jeff Barnes
Well, we are at the first official day, and the prompt is to write a poem about a secret shame or a secret pleasure. Maureen mentioned bad movies among the secret pleasure. They are been a secret (okay, not so secret, to be honest) pleasure of mine for years, and I came up with this poem about one of my favorites, Plan 9 from Outer Space. I hope Ed Wood, bless his memory, would have enjoyed this for the tribute to him that it is. Thank you for all the entertainment, Ed!
Who Else But Ed?
Who but Ed Wood could take two brief film clips
of an aging, ailing Bela Lugosi
and from this craft an alien invasion
spearheaded by a drag queen actor
who looked bored by the whole thing
as he sat behind his wooden desk
amid curtains and junky 1950s
radio equipment, giving orders
to his two inept crew members
all in a plan, the ninth such,
to take over planet Earth
by reviving the dead
and building an army of zombies
led by a chiropractor slinking around
with a cape covering his face
presuming to fill the late Lugosi's shoes,
with his zombie wife, Vampira
in her too sexy for burial dress,
and Tor Johnson, the Swedish Angel,
whose face was so scary
it became a popular Halloween mask?
Who else could get a Baptist church
to fund such a venture in filmmaking
in exchange for baptisms of cast members
and the promise of huge profits?
Who but Ed Wood, decades after his death in obscurity,
could have us watch so raptly in our darkened rooms
black and white television images
of Los Angeles under siege
by flying hubcaps, pizza pans and paper plates?
Who else would make us wonder
if this ninth plan by an advanced alien race
was so lame, what the first eight plans
might have been? - Jeff Barnes
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