"You are free to eat."
When I've read haikuI can't seem to stop countingAll my syllables.
That was so profound, I can not even interpret it.
That was awesome, shan!
With haiku it isSurprisingly quite easyto be prolific.One's educationIn this respect at least hasBeen found adequate.Glad to entertain(While the obsessive countingContinues unchecked.)
Wow, that seems kinda sadMaybe you need therapyBah! Don't waste your cashObsessive countingCould it really be so bad?Pink bicycle shorts
Shan,You are creative,Writing haikus with such ease.Feeled with awe, I am.I beg forgiveness.Stealing your haiku ideaIs a form of praise.
Syllables, yes. Butthe true poetic voice isinimitable.
Jared's ideaof therapy strikes me asa bit redundant.For poems are, attheir very heart, a form ofcathartic release.Perhaps, clumsy ox,your next post could be composedin limerick form.New channels for onescreativity would behappily welcomed.You laugh and maybethink I exaggerate butI'm losing my mind.
Poor imitation.Practice and perseverance,I shall find my voice.
Poetry in schoolHas fueled Shan's insanityHer words too measuredWe write in haikuJapanese imports rule usThey dictate our wordsAlas, such is manHis words so noble, but frailThis blog so pointless
There once was a girl named GwenWho camped out in woods and in fenShe came back in to townWith no trace of a frownAnd wanted to go out again
One of my pet peevesis misspelling homonyms."Feeled" should be "filled". Sad.
Gwen made up ClumsyOx, but Mark proceeded toSteal her idea
I’ve spent the whole daySitting at the computerWaiting for commentsIt’s int’resting howWithout doing much at allThe time can fly by.My family’s hungryBut, I keep telling them, thisIs more important.I can’t rememberWhen last I had so much funWith that ‘refresh’ key.
Perhaps a sonnet for the EnglishmanWho loaded down with Sony and Honda, Extols the virtues of CanadianWorkmanship he is so awf’lly fond'a.The problem’s in the rhyming, don't you see,And even if I get the rhythm rightThere’s still the question of a cogent themeTo keep your readers chuckling with delight.I think it’s easier, taken on the whole,To use the Asian form and build upon’tOr suddenly I’ll find I’m up the poleWith a lame-ass half-completed sonnet.But thank you for this chance to exerciseThe brain that’s been for so long paralyzed.
jeez ladyshe thought. In a whirling windof Emotion. get yourself together
All you lotare just jealous nowof my wit.
My poetic prowess I've spent,Though Shan's has nary a dent.Gwen came out sluggin', too.There is only one thing I can do.From poetry I must now retire,Lest my verses become more dire.
Shan left a poem among the comments, A simple sonnet, a sweet rhyming verse:Our joy and respect she'd tho't to foment,And competition was e'er the family curse.But oh! how quickly Gwen responded,She wrote blank verse, a modern work;And while my taste is surely jaundiced,We must admit she did far more than lurk.And so now we have a full array of style:Haiku, sonnet, and even more du jour.The writer's craft has seen far worse and vile,But this humble blog's not seen work more pure.And I can't I be ought but satisfied,This all came from sorry haiku I tried.
Ha! Shan, Ames, Jared and GwennyHave pushed my comments up to twenny!
And so with colours 'draggled,with mud and mire besmirched she fellPow'rs of thought o'ershadowed by the mightAnd fearsome forces with which through the long Olympian day she did engage.Sing, muse, the honour of Ames. Mnemosyne, with hair unwinding in the cool streamAnd fingers trailingRemembers in the long summer the valiant fightThe war of words whenEngaged on all fronts the mighty queen,Mother of her race,Weeping passed from bright day into shadow.
talent untapped andmy West Coast location meanI'll have the last word.
When do we start thediscussion of publishing this strain of poetry?Ox probably thoughtnary a comment would comeon such a small post.I enjoy haiku"Still, I love technology"Bring us on home, Kip
There once was a blogger named OxWhose sad hiaku was bollocksBut his readers wrote verse(And one even cursed)As they showed their poetic chops
Unreal dittiesUnder a humid fog of summer dawnA crowd responded to Ox, so manyI had not thought blogging had undone so manyI should have been a pair of ragged clawsScuttling across the hood of Ox's silent grill...
The claws of the dawgScuttling silent under seasChuck busts out Prufrock
Yesterday words flowedfast ink from the artist's pennow I'm reticentTS Eliotwould probably ask me isthis bang or whimper
What a boring blogNot a comment yesterdayGet to writing, Ox!
I'm finished the book.Regret, tinged with exhaustion,are teeming my brain.
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