Here is today's poem. I wrote this poem when I was waiting for my oil change and went to wait at Popeyes. The form/style of this poem is a sestina. Let me know what you think of it.
A Busy Monday at Popeyes
People wait around the lobby
just waiting for their food
or they are waiting to order.
The customers smell fried chicken
and mashed potatoes—ready to fill their stomach
Jazzy-blues music plays as they eat.
She wants to do nothing but eat
her 2-piece Bonafide in the lobby.
The mashed potato, biscuit, and chicken fills her stomach.
She's so hungry she wants more food!
"Should I get the catfish or crispy chicken?
I better hurry up and make my next order."
"Are you ready to order?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm starving and need to eat.
I need a big meal. I think I'll get the chicken
bowl and the 3-piece Bonafide," said the big man standing in the lobby.
He couldn't wait to eat it all, it was all for him—his food!
"Oh, yeah. That definitely hit the spot in my stomach."
(Loud rumbling and growling) "What was that? Was that your stomach?"
"Uh, yeah that was me," said her husband. "Let's make our order
before my stomach growls again. I need to get some food—
corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, and chicken in my stomach."
He and his wife ordered and now waited in the lobby
for their food. He smells it, sees it, and wants it—chicken!
They all wait in a crowd for their chicken,
because they all need food in their stomach.
They all stand around the lobby
while someone else makes their order
and another decides what they should eat.
When it's ready, they go to the front counter to get their food.
"I need some, I want some, I crave for food.
I'll get the Cajun Rice, Catfish, and Fried Chicken."
"Dang, you already had so much. Do you need to eat
anymore? Pretty soon it will be a big balloon stomach."
The hungry friend says to the cashier, "Hi, I'd like to make my order."
He shakes his head in disbelief at his hungry friend in the lobby.
You need food in your stomach?
Go get Popeyes’ chicken and make your order,
then you’ll eat and listen to the music in the lobby.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Poem for Wednesday
This poem I wrote for my favorite modern Romeo and Juliet (Edward and Bella). I love the Twilight Saga that Stephenie Meyer, who is one of my favorite authors, made me like reading about romance and so I began reading more and more romance books.
Well, here is the poem I wrote about Edward and Bella based on the new recent movie "New Moon."
Note: The style/form of this poem is a villanelle.
Edward & Bella
You can’t leave me. We’re meant for each other
And we’re supposed to be together forever.
How could you leave me? You promised me
you'd stay with me as long as I wanted you.
But, you lied. Did you think yourself clever?
You can’t leave me. We’re meant for each other,
so you can’t leave me because I’ll be old and blue.
You said you’d want me still while you’d stay young forever.
How could you leave me? You promised me—
were we meant to be like Romeo and Juliet? Give me a clue
of what we can do, so you can stay. Morever,
you can’t leave me. We’re meant for each other,
because we love each other like dew
on a tree. You couldn’t resist me, so how could you ever—
how could you leave me? You promised me!
I don’t care what you think. I always knew
we were different but I love you. Whatever,
you can’t leave me. We’re meant for each other—
how could you leave me? You promised me.
Well, here is the poem I wrote about Edward and Bella based on the new recent movie "New Moon."
Note: The style/form of this poem is a villanelle.
Edward & Bella
You can’t leave me. We’re meant for each other
And we’re supposed to be together forever.
How could you leave me? You promised me
you'd stay with me as long as I wanted you.
But, you lied. Did you think yourself clever?
You can’t leave me. We’re meant for each other,
so you can’t leave me because I’ll be old and blue.
You said you’d want me still while you’d stay young forever.
How could you leave me? You promised me—
were we meant to be like Romeo and Juliet? Give me a clue
of what we can do, so you can stay. Morever,
you can’t leave me. We’re meant for each other,
because we love each other like dew
on a tree. You couldn’t resist me, so how could you ever—
how could you leave me? You promised me!
I don’t care what you think. I always knew
we were different but I love you. Whatever,
you can’t leave me. We’re meant for each other—
how could you leave me? You promised me.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Poem for Today (Tuesday)
So, I finally have caught up with my poems to tell you my poem for today, Tuesday. I play racquetball every now and then, so I decided to write a poem about it. The form/style of today's poem is a rimas dissolutas. Here is the poem, let me know what you think of it:
Winning the Racquet Game
Blue ball goes bouncing
Back and forth, then it
Hits the white wall
Again and again till it calms down
The announcer is announcing
Where the winner should sit
Afterwards, the player goes down the hall
She exclaims in victory and acts like a clown
She begins jouncing
With her racquet and thinks she’s a wit
Because she’s able to hit the ball
Consistently without fail in a gown
She knows no end in flouncing
And she will never ever quit
Until she can no longer sprawl
Or until she has beaten everyone in town
Winning the Racquet Game
Blue ball goes bouncing
Back and forth, then it
Hits the white wall
Again and again till it calms down
The announcer is announcing
Where the winner should sit
Afterwards, the player goes down the hall
She exclaims in victory and acts like a clown
She begins jouncing
With her racquet and thinks she’s a wit
Because she’s able to hit the ball
Consistently without fail in a gown
She knows no end in flouncing
And she will never ever quit
Until she can no longer sprawl
Or until she has beaten everyone in town
Poem for Monday
Let me know what you think of this poem:
At Sea
The sky is beautiful and blue, yet clear
and bright. The sun will rise and make it shine
in the East then everywhere. The clouds are white
and fluffy, but asleep and dreaming rain.
The wind is silent, but is feeling sharp
with anticipation of brewing grief.
The seagulls talk among themselves and play
a game with water bathing fishes’ scales.
Sometimes a seagull catches one or two,
while it is diving in the blue and green
abyssal sea. The seagulls hear it first;
the birth of storm approaching near and far.
They fly away to find a safe and large
vicinity to shelter all of them.
The sun escapes behind the clouds to keep
away and dry. The sky no longer bright
and clear; it grows obscure and strange. The sea
meanders back and forth, then jostling fierce.
The air discerns disdain around the sea
and sky. The sea arises from ground and roars;
the sky unravels lightning rapidly
and thunders. Battling as fast as light,
they go away and sleep until they meet
again for battle. Brightness comes and shines
The seagulls come again at sea to play;
the sky returns to normal like before.
At sea the weather strikes whenever sky
and sea encounters peace, delight, and rage.
At Sea
The sky is beautiful and blue, yet clear
and bright. The sun will rise and make it shine
in the East then everywhere. The clouds are white
and fluffy, but asleep and dreaming rain.
The wind is silent, but is feeling sharp
with anticipation of brewing grief.
The seagulls talk among themselves and play
a game with water bathing fishes’ scales.
Sometimes a seagull catches one or two,
while it is diving in the blue and green
abyssal sea. The seagulls hear it first;
the birth of storm approaching near and far.
They fly away to find a safe and large
vicinity to shelter all of them.
The sun escapes behind the clouds to keep
away and dry. The sky no longer bright
and clear; it grows obscure and strange. The sea
meanders back and forth, then jostling fierce.
The air discerns disdain around the sea
and sky. The sea arises from ground and roars;
the sky unravels lightning rapidly
and thunders. Battling as fast as light,
they go away and sleep until they meet
again for battle. Brightness comes and shines
The seagulls come again at sea to play;
the sky returns to normal like before.
At sea the weather strikes whenever sky
and sea encounters peace, delight, and rage.
Poem for Sunday
Tell me what you think of my poem for Sunday:
Humpty Dumpty
Humpty Dumpty—that’s me!
An English veteran I was in the 17th century civil war
Between the Royalists and Parliamentarians.
I, a Royalist, was loyal and royal as I could be.
Why were we fighting against the Parliamentarians?
I’ll tell you why. They wanted freedom, but we wanted
Them to be loyal to us—the king!
Colchester, the town I and the Royalists lived in,
Was what the Parliamentarians wanted to take from us,
Because it was a land so great and beautiful!
While the war was going on, I didn’t know
I was going to get the biggest shock of my life.
I was the epitome of elegance and perfect roundness.
No other could match or defeat me.
I sat high above the gray and powerful wall
Encircling St Mary’s Church and the fort.
The Parliamentarians shot a direct canon
At the fort which we suffered greatly—not only
The wall but ME, who was sitting on the wall.
I wasn’t aware of the canon until it was too late;
I tumbled to the ground and broke
Into hundreds of pieces. The Royalists, all the King’s men,
Tried to raise me on to another part of the wall—
But they all failed over and over!
All those who thought I was a hollow, weightless egg
In a black, classy tuxedo were wrong!
I was a massive and beefy cannon!
The Royalists opened the gates of Colchester
And surrendered, because I could no longer
Hold and protect the fort.
The drastic consequences of not putting me
Back together came about us losing Colchester.
Years and years went by; I still lay on the ground
In a sad, fallen disarray in uneven pieces
For no one could put me back together.
I became a legend that everyone knew me—even babies!
Humpty Dumpty
Humpty Dumpty—that’s me!
An English veteran I was in the 17th century civil war
Between the Royalists and Parliamentarians.
I, a Royalist, was loyal and royal as I could be.
Why were we fighting against the Parliamentarians?
I’ll tell you why. They wanted freedom, but we wanted
Them to be loyal to us—the king!
Colchester, the town I and the Royalists lived in,
Was what the Parliamentarians wanted to take from us,
Because it was a land so great and beautiful!
While the war was going on, I didn’t know
I was going to get the biggest shock of my life.
I was the epitome of elegance and perfect roundness.
No other could match or defeat me.
I sat high above the gray and powerful wall
Encircling St Mary’s Church and the fort.
The Parliamentarians shot a direct canon
At the fort which we suffered greatly—not only
The wall but ME, who was sitting on the wall.
I wasn’t aware of the canon until it was too late;
I tumbled to the ground and broke
Into hundreds of pieces. The Royalists, all the King’s men,
Tried to raise me on to another part of the wall—
But they all failed over and over!
All those who thought I was a hollow, weightless egg
In a black, classy tuxedo were wrong!
I was a massive and beefy cannon!
The Royalists opened the gates of Colchester
And surrendered, because I could no longer
Hold and protect the fort.
The drastic consequences of not putting me
Back together came about us losing Colchester.
Years and years went by; I still lay on the ground
In a sad, fallen disarray in uneven pieces
For no one could put me back together.
I became a legend that everyone knew me—even babies!
Poem for Saturday
Hey all,
Sorry, I didn't post anything up for the weekend because I was lazy and too tired to do it. But I'm going to post up one poem for those days that I missed. So here is the first one:
Aquafina the Water Bottle
Water in a 20 ounce plastic bottle
It is pure water and is the perfect taste
Which the label says.
I concur that it does taste refreshingly
Like pure water, but I'm not sure
if it is the perfect taste.
It tastes like cool, clean, and clear air.
The water swishes back and forth
When I'm drinking and moving the bottle
I feel the cold wetness on my tongue.
Then it swirls down my esophagus
And down and through to my stomach.
I drink some more because I can't get enough
Perhaps, it is the "perfect taste"
I want more to quench my thirst.
The Aquafina water bottle
Is now empty and silent.
Only remnants of water drops
And water vapor surround the inside.
The tight cap covers it and traps
Whatever lasting drop of it there.
I recycle the bottle because
There is a 'Recycle Sign'
At the bottom of the blue wrapper.
I've made "smart choices made easy."
Sorry, I didn't post anything up for the weekend because I was lazy and too tired to do it. But I'm going to post up one poem for those days that I missed. So here is the first one:
Aquafina the Water Bottle
Water in a 20 ounce plastic bottle
It is pure water and is the perfect taste
Which the label says.
I concur that it does taste refreshingly
Like pure water, but I'm not sure
if it is the perfect taste.
It tastes like cool, clean, and clear air.
The water swishes back and forth
When I'm drinking and moving the bottle
I feel the cold wetness on my tongue.
Then it swirls down my esophagus
And down and through to my stomach.
I drink some more because I can't get enough
Perhaps, it is the "perfect taste"
I want more to quench my thirst.
The Aquafina water bottle
Is now empty and silent.
Only remnants of water drops
And water vapor surround the inside.
The tight cap covers it and traps
Whatever lasting drop of it there.
I recycle the bottle because
There is a 'Recycle Sign'
At the bottom of the blue wrapper.
I've made "smart choices made easy."
Friday, January 15, 2010
A Poem A Day
From this day onward, I would like to try and post one poem a day.
My first poem was written for my Fundamentals of Poetry course that I took last semester. I had lots of fun writing poems last fall. This poem was inspired by the painting I looked at, and I had to write a poem about the subject matter. Below is the painting called "Little Girl in a Blue Armchair" by Mary Cassatt.
Today's first poem is:
My first poem was written for my Fundamentals of Poetry course that I took last semester. I had lots of fun writing poems last fall. This poem was inspired by the painting I looked at, and I had to write a poem about the subject matter. Below is the painting called "Little Girl in a Blue Armchair" by Mary Cassatt.
Today's first poem is:
Little Girl in a Blue Armchair
The room is filled with blue armchairs
Of assorted color flower designs
They’re cushiony, fluffy, and comfy
Like large cotton-balls and smooth like satin silk.
Cool air-condition blows in the room
Soft light creeps through the living room
Remnants of the Cajun chicken’s aroma
Buzz through the air to her nose.
She thinks about tomorrow.
First day of school after summer break.
Not terribly excited for second-grade
And summer vacation ending.
It’s like doing homework every day.
She sits there on the blue armchair
She waits for her mother and father
She stares at the dog and beige carpet
She listens to all the adults’ chatter and laughter
She scratches her neck and makes a tight-lipped expression.
Wearing a white frilly cotton dress
That is now sticking on her sweaty
Forearms and thighs
Black cotton socks and black dress shoes
Feel tight and wet on her feet.
She wishes to be at home
To change from the dry-sweaty clothes
To a comfortable t-shirt and shorts.
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