Tuesday, September 15, 2009

So you want to be a poet?

Here's a simple exercise.



My song about despair
has to do with my bad hair
upon waking it is wild
and a brush can't make it mild.
Some water here and there
"Still unruly," laughs my hair
What the heck can I do next??
From this hair, I'm really vexed!
Finally, a soaked washcloth
dripping and shimmering with froth
onto my head and now the hair
falls just right in the morning air.

When sung to Piddle the cat, he was not moved.

Geoffrey A. Landis said...

Cats are a tough audience.

Geoffrey A. Landis said...

Oops, I just realized that the link was bad-- clicking that was supposed to link to Doug Savage's site, Savage Chickens (or just the cartoons about poetry)


The poet doesn't invent. He listens. ~Jean Cocteau