apple manna
Delving into poems with the freshmores. Today, in the spirit of WCW's "This Is Just To Say," we wrote our own poetic "notes," be they fridge notes, computer notes, bedroom door notes, what have you. After which, I took the annual opportunity to blow yet another set of minds with Berryman's "Dream Song 4." Loved it when one of my most unreachable of unreachables grinned and said, "Funny thing is, I think I kind of get it." And he did. Here's my Williamsian note; clearly the sentiments are not those of the local Muravian.
Blackboard Note in a Dry-Erase World
crappy poems, who
needs 'em
especially
all the nonsense
of chicken paprika & tense
verbs & mr. bones
with his frame-y
structure. leave
the world to watermelons
& igneous rocks
& caryatids on
the ballroom floor.
(Amazingly, this poem was roundly applauded, even after they found out who the poet was.)
Labels: dilly dally
posted by murat11 at 5:59 PM
12 Comments:
my my, no wonder :)
here you are getting mr. unreachable to be all about the poemsy poems and you visit and find I'm chastised for writing one. Terrible timing for Mr. Lion. You give mr. unreachable a squench for me and tell him I kinda get it too :)
trivia - a student came to the lab to search for a "motherly" poem. Her English class is having a wedding for Jane and Mr. Rochester and her character is someone who mothered Jane - she didn't say the name but I have my suspicions. Mrs. Computer Lab lady pulled her away from google and handed her a volume of poetry from behind her (my) desk. The wedding was saved. So very unlike Mrs. Computer lab lady to recommend a book :)
Now I'm clicking on my other tab to read some of Mr. Berryman's stories that aren't...
Sister Dee, I have no doubt you will soon be teaching writing in the splendor of your magnificent computer lab. Clearly, the students are onto you.
What a fun little computer note!! I think we should definitely leave the world to watermelons, especially if we can spit the seeds :)
Good morning, Teresa: Sandias R Us, for sure. Prefer the seedless, but I understand the glee of spitting.
Well, if we're leaving the world to watermelons, I assume we will have plenty of both the seedy and seedless varieties. I am pretty partial to the yellow seedless watermelons that are so popular in Taiwan, but I also love seed-spitting contests (and fights) as a form of recreation. In a watermelon world, you gotta have both!
I know people with the same sentiments for poetry! He be not alone.
You speak for them well.
Well now, MizLee, I can't exactly say that I was speaking for them, though I may have been lending my mouth for an exercise. I'm way too in love with Berryman's dementia to give in to the watermelons and igneous rocks.
Teresa, leave it to you to bring the yin yang into the world of watermelons. You seed spitter, you.
Can't seem to escape from the yin in the yang and the yang in the yin. They just keep cycling around in everything, even watermelon seed spitting fights :0
T: Of course they do . . . p-tooey!
The delicious and compact body of this poem was what they whistled at. It's the hormones, Mr. Bones.
Sister San: That explains it - and a whole lot more, of course.
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