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Reading down the list of titles, this looked like a thematic set written by the same person. Then I noticed the prompt. Duh...
This is kind of a mishmash of meters and rhyme schemes. The way it changes from the first stanza to the second is not so unusual to see in children's stories, for example, but you don't as often see it in straight-up poetry.
I like how each stanza is about a different kind of sandwich (and one reignites the old debate about whether a taco is one), and the last one ends on a nice pun.
This is kind of a mishmash of meters and rhyme schemes. The way it changes from the first stanza to the second is not so unusual to see in children's stories, for example, but you don't as often see it in straight-up poetry.
I like how each stanza is about a different kind of sandwich (and one reignites the old debate about whether a taco is one), and the last one ends on a nice pun.
This kind of went over my head. If I'm reading right, the speaker is walking through a graveyard where the tombstones remind him of teeth. Though the first stanza had me in a mind of Mother Nature until later verses starting talking about additional women. A bit opaque, and the word choice heads that way as well—nicely and figuratively descriptive if not concrete—but it does crreate a good overall atmosphere.
Okay... this starts out sounding like double entendre, and I was never sure either way. "Broth from the bunghole" is a particularly unpleasant image, as it evokes diarrhea for me, but then the ending joke does bring it all around as an unpleasant thing. I can't tell whether there's supposed to be a meter; if so, it's irregular. The rhymes are stretches at times. Kind of like a feghoot, and it did get a laugh from me.
Our strings are curled inside, yet we stand like beads
Running along centuries of clear mornings
Each a sparkling glint in rising sun
The songs they sang are now mine, and will be another's.
Running along centuries of clear mornings
Each a sparkling glint in rising sun
The songs they sang are now mine, and will be another's.
Icing glassy on the top
Of the minimal amount of pastry
And the just too tart fruit filling
In the closing of the rectangle...
A pop-tart is a sandwich.
Of the minimal amount of pastry
And the just too tart fruit filling
In the closing of the rectangle...
A pop-tart is a sandwich.
>>Pascoite
Sandwiches
Thanks for the gold! Gratz to Heavy Mole and Griseus.
My first thought on the prompt was to make a poem with a structure that mirrored a sandwich. I thought I could even turn out multiple entries of this type. I finished the top stanza, hit submit, got confused when it didn't go through, then realized this wasn't a minimum 15 round, I had to get a hundred words in. So I made some more sandwiches then and there, though they came out in different metric forms, and thus it went. I'm glad you liked them.
Sandwiches
Thanks for the gold! Gratz to Heavy Mole and Griseus.
My first thought on the prompt was to make a poem with a structure that mirrored a sandwich. I thought I could even turn out multiple entries of this type. I finished the top stanza, hit submit, got confused when it didn't go through, then realized this wasn't a minimum 15 round, I had to get a hundred words in. So I made some more sandwiches then and there, though they came out in different metric forms, and thus it went. I'm glad you liked them.
I like this as a ribald play on the rhetorical apostrophe. I find myself wanting to poke around the reeds a little bit—I feel as though there is an innuendo I might be missing, or a punchline I might have overlooked. The rhyme and meter seem intentionally rough.
A few things, though. Either the word ‘bunghole’ means something quite different where I grew up, or you are leaving the reader with an image that will be difficult to get past. Also, the line about the cane cutters could confuse, or even be taken nefariously, as the allusion is not clear, since sugar does not grow in a swamp.
I accept and approve the gusto behind rhyming ‘celery’ with the abominable ‘interstellary’, as long as we agree that we’re being silly.
A few things, though. Either the word ‘bunghole’ means something quite different where I grew up, or you are leaving the reader with an image that will be difficult to get past. Also, the line about the cane cutters could confuse, or even be taken nefariously, as the allusion is not clear, since sugar does not grow in a swamp.
I accept and approve the gusto behind rhyming ‘celery’ with the abominable ‘interstellary’, as long as we agree that we’re being silly.
If you please, go out, and tell the nurses
A double-pack of peanut butter’s needed
To go with all the jelly that I have
Upon my reading of these sandwiched verses.
A double-pack of peanut butter’s needed
To go with all the jelly that I have
Upon my reading of these sandwiched verses.
>>Pascoite
Thanks for your feedback, as usual! Hats off to (Groaning) Grey.
No, it's set on a viaduct, which is a train track overlooking a valley. There are two images, the first which seems to proceed by revelation, and could be called "Mother Nature". The second you might think of as the actual mothers--the kind you would have a more temporal relationship to.
Thanks for your feedback, as usual! Hats off to (Groaning) Grey.
No, it's set on a viaduct, which is a train track overlooking a valley. There are two images, the first which seems to proceed by revelation, and could be called "Mother Nature". The second you might think of as the actual mothers--the kind you would have a more temporal relationship to.