Entertainment bandits
with their farmhouse esquire strut,
tough youthful lip,
and iambic harpoon,
impair reality.
With rhythmic railing,
visceral eels flick buildings,
drift ice and frazzle the equator.
A safe, habitual dive,
accident free.
A hearty frost etching. Theatrical orgasm
about an ethereal unsteady sailor.
Often narcissistically open interest by preaching,
“Listen. My genius is whispering. Learn.”
Others aggravate the heavens,
stirring after an avalanche,
but never after the orthodontist.
They are an insane entity,
like narwhals in mink coats.
Vent the mossy minds and eradicate the vices
of elitist English majors.
I'm not a fan of this one myself.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the second verse. But, then again I don't know the first thing about creative writing (:
ReplyDeleteI think the best part about this poem is the imagery you create with the ice at the equator. You really get the sense of English majors' alienation. There were a few things I would have done differently. Feel free to curse my ignorance under your breath.
ReplyDelete-I may be a minimalist, but I feel like this poem could use a few less modifiers.
-'Farmhouse esquire strut' reads funny, though it paints a good picture.
-The four fragments in stanza three are competing for attention. It doesn't seem like you justified the decision to break the rules.
-'Ethereal unsteady' seems like a bit of an oxymoron to me.
-The declarative line at the end is ambiguously commanding. Are you speaking to the reader? The Others? The sailor? I think you could honestly end with the narwhals in mink coats. The cheek really speaks to the idea behind the poem, I think.
(Oxford commas?? Really??)
This is all very helpful feedback. I actually hate this one with all of my being. The method we had to use to create this experiment led to way too many dissimilar words that were meant to be "interesting word combinations." Obviously not the greatest way to go about writing poetry.
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