Edward Willett's Blog, page 35
April 9, 2014
April 8, 2014
April 7, 2014
End of the book giveaway…for now
Well, after seven weeks of giving away books, I’ve decided to pull the plug on the giveaway for now. It never took off the way it needed to if it were going to be worthwhile from a marketing point of view and of course there was a slight cost associated with it, plus a time commitment.
I’d still like to give away some books, though, so it’ll probably come back later in some form.
Thanks to all who entered it!
April 5, 2014
April 4, 2014
April 3, 2014
April 2, 2014
April 1, 2014
In honour of National Poetry Month 2: Within this box of glowing white…
Within this box of glowing white
I type, in pixels black,
These words. I try to get them right,
Yet still I feel they lack
A certain something. Yeats I’m not
Nor am I Keats or Austen.
My forte, I would say, is plot:
This scansion is exhausten’.
And so, although ’tis poetry
This month is meant to honour,
I don’t think it’s the month for me.
Why, I can’t even find a last line that has the right number of beats and ends with a rhyme for “honour.”
In honour of National Poetry Month 1: I Tweet, therefore I rhyme
I TWEET, THEREFORE I RHYME
Being a Twitterpoem cycle in honour of National Poetry Month 2014, with each stanza set off with pretentious Roman numerals, just because it’s more poetic that way
By Edward Willett
I
In characters, 140 sum, I must Tweet out my heart,
So that, for National Poetry Month, I will have done my part.
II
I think that I shall never see a Tweet as lovely as a tree.
(Kilmer I’m not, nor e’er will be–but that’s my stab at poetry.)
III
A rhyming couplet may not be considered avant garde,
But it works well enough for me (though better for the Bard).
IV
“I Tweet, therefore I am,” Descartes did not (and could not) say,
But probably he would have had he been born present-day.
V
If you find a piece is missing from the puzzle of your soul,
Perhaps you need a poet—to fill a poem-sized hole.
Coda
It’s hard, now I have started, to stop these silly rhymes.
I humbly beg your pardon for my literary crimes.
