Saturday, April 2, 2011
Station of the Word for April
This is National Poetry Month, and begins with April Fool's Day. Let's combine them:
You assignment this month is to take a familiar poem and write a pastiche that turns the meaning on its head. You might do this with awkward or mixed metaphors, non sequiturs, outrageous rhymes, or . . . . I'm sure you can think of something.
If you don't want to write a pastiche, you might consider a limerick (the best ones are salacious, of course), or just the worst poem you can imagine.
My favorite worst poem is
Only a Baby Small
Only a baby small,
Dropped from the skies;
Only a laughing face,
Two sunny eyes.
Only two cherry lips,
One chubby nose;
Only two little hands,
Ten little toes.
Only a golden head,
Curly and soft;
Only a tongue that wags
Loudly and oft.
Only a little brain,
Empty of thought;
Only a little heart,
Troubled with naught.
Only a tender flower
Sent us to rear;
Only a life to love
While we are here.
Only a baby small,
Never at rest;
Small, but how dear to us;
God knoweth best.
As I think about it, I shudder.
Please comment - or post your poem - below.
[Don't forget to register for CWC! Link Here.]
You assignment this month is to take a familiar poem and write a pastiche that turns the meaning on its head. You might do this with awkward or mixed metaphors, non sequiturs, outrageous rhymes, or . . . . I'm sure you can think of something.
If you don't want to write a pastiche, you might consider a limerick (the best ones are salacious, of course), or just the worst poem you can imagine.
My favorite worst poem is
Only a Baby Small
Only a baby small,
Dropped from the skies;
Only a laughing face,
Two sunny eyes.
Only two cherry lips,
One chubby nose;
Only two little hands,
Ten little toes.
Only a golden head,
Curly and soft;
Only a tongue that wags
Loudly and oft.
Only a little brain,
Empty of thought;
Only a little heart,
Troubled with naught.
Only a tender flower
Sent us to rear;
Only a life to love
While we are here.
Only a baby small,
Never at rest;
Small, but how dear to us;
God knoweth best.
As I think about it, I shudder.
Please comment - or post your poem - below.
[Don't forget to register for CWC! Link Here.]
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