Monday, October 24, 2005

To write a bad poem

I dreamed letter magnets
on the refrigerator
moved themselves
in an unsteady line to spell

my forehead grew damp and
I struggled to rearrange the magnets

the air became heavier than swimming
my slow arms and hands
couldn't catch the magnets
wavering before my eyes

frantically, I turned to ask
why the room was so thick
my feet would not move

I opened my eyes confused and hot
the edge of my bed fuzzy
daylight hesitating behind the curtain

my arms were numb and
difficult to move

Today is the day
to write a bad poem

leaf moon fall


Blogger zhoen said...

My favorite magnetic poem was this.

No, I meant a juice knife.

Ephemera, and gone three moves ago.

10/24/2005 2:08 PM  
Blogger mermaid said...

Funny, I'm not sure who truly judges if any of us are worthy of the title, "Poet". Who decides -magazine editors, friends, comments on blogs, us?

I love to write, whether the world wants to listen, or not.

10/24/2005 4:12 PM  
Blogger Jean said...


10/25/2005 2:33 AM  
Blogger Mary said...

I think this is a liberating poem!

10/25/2005 8:49 AM  
Blogger MB said...

Magnets can raise wonderful questions through their sudden, unexpected juxtapositions. Or terrible questions, depending.

mermaid, I am afraid I am at times my worst critic so your declaration made me smile, thanks.

((Jean)) thanks!

mary, you are right to read it that way. Although, of course, I firmly believe that poems, like songs, serve the listener as much as the writer. Which means that they may mean different things at different times, during different experiences.

10/25/2005 9:58 AM  
Anonymous Sara said...


That's awesome, Moose. And not a bad poem at all, in my opinion. :)

10/26/2005 10:42 AM  
Blogger MB said...

I'm glad you got a laugh out of it, Sara, and thanks for stopping by. :-)

10/27/2005 10:20 AM  
Blogger Udge said...

And a fine photo too!

10/28/2005 12:59 PM  
Blogger MB said...

Thanks, and welcome, udge!

10/31/2005 9:16 AM  

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