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Apr 26 2012

Just A Reminder…

That today is National “Poem in your pocket” day.

5 comments

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  1. 1
    Aliasalpha

    Err can a box be decalred a pocket? The only poem I’ve ever had published is in a box ready to go on a removalists truck

  2. 2
    Cuttlefish

    Here, Aliasalpha, that counts. Care to share?

  3. 3
    Aliasalpha

    Well okay, I’ve got no idea how it was seen as good enough to publish. Frankly I wasn’t even writing poetry, I was zoning out during the poetry parts of one of my writing classes and ended up writing a vitriolic rant about a program I was developing instead.

    Programmer
    My digital better half refuses to appear
    Her excuse is cryptic and unhelpful
    “An unexpected error has occurred on line 306
    Object Required: ‘First’”

    I have created such a demanding girl
    A capital O or the number 0
    Makes little difference to most of us
    But to her it is the end of the world
    Like a spoiled soprano she will NOT work under these conditions
    Will not even make an appearance to tell me what I should do
    Just this never ending stream of esoteric notes
    Telling me to look on line 306
    But she really means the end of line 305


    She’s far too impressive to dismiss
    In fact she is essential to my construct of smoke and mirrors
    And as a result to my self esteem and future


    It’s just that she can be such a fucking BITCH!

  4. 4
    lafranceprofonde

    A poem for a freethinker’s pocket

    A. Swinburne 1837-1909

    None hath beheld him, none
    Seen above other gods and shapes of things,
    Swift without feet and flying without wings,
    Intolerable, not clad with death or life,

  5. 5
    lafranceprofonde

    A poem for a freethinker’s pocket

    A. Swinburne 1837-1909

    None hath beheld him, none
    Seen above other gods and shapes of things,
    Swift without feet and flying without wings,
    Intolerable, not clad with death or life,
    Insatiable, not known of night or day,
    The lord of love and bathing and of strife
    Who gives a star and takes a sun away;
    Who shapes the soul, and makes her a barren wife
    To the earthly body and grievous growth of clay;
    Who turns the large limbs to a little flame
    And binds the great sea with a little sand;
    Who makes desire, and slays desire with shame;
    Who shakes the heaven as ashes in his hand;
    Who, seeing the light and shadow for the same,
    Bids day waste night as fire devours a brand,
    Smites without sword, and scourges without rod;
    The supreme evil, God.

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