Carpe Diem (On a Sunny Spring Day)

From where I sit, here’s how 
It’s done, mate— 

Two cold-blooded conjugated 
Saurians getting their rocks off right 

Here and now on a hard bed 
Of warm slate. 

Belated World Poetry Day Poem

The first day of spring demands 
A poem second to none, Maestro— 

So let the music begin, 
And may the best song last 

Till one better comes along. 

Avian Flash Fiction

This is where I tell you how 
My whole life flew past me 

As I reeled 

Off one hundred stories 
In one fell swoop. 

Do You Read Me, Pinhead?

Don’t be surprised,
Dude— 

Up from the gutter right 
Up your alley 

After you, the king 
Pin's waiting

His turn to bowl 
Your world over— 

Where are you? 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Poets Coming Clean with their Craft

I thought if I washed out my mouth with lots 
Of soap and water, my speech 
Would henceforth spume forth 
A fountainhead 

Of pure verse shining 
And smelling like a million bucks— 
But all that came up reeked 
Of a foul, wishy-washy tongue all 

Fucked up and too utterly bankrupt 
To strive towards any semblance of upkeep. 


Moderator’s comment: Huuk certainly knows his way around the poetic blogosphere— who would have thought he’d latch on to a catchy phrase from Conrad DiDiodato’s comment on a post over at ursprache and work it into a telling commentary on the modern poet’s coming to terms with his/her language predicament—whatever that may be.

NB:

In the event the ursprache link is broken, here’s Conrad’s comment on a Seferis quote (“Unimaginable how much patience is needed to see the simplest things. How much patience I need to write a single verse.”):

Borrowing phraseology from C.S.Lewis, I'd say you can start by wanting to write good verse (for which much patience is required) and in the end you may get Poetry; however, beginning with the "soap and water" of much contemporary poetry will get you nothing at all. Of that you can be certain