Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
Weekly Poetry Stuffage
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Week 123 (May 22nd to May 29th). Poems. Topic: Car Music
Cool topic :)This Highway
Driving down the highway,
In the warm summer sun,
With the wind blowing back our hair,
Our journey's just begun.
This car is my body,
And this highway is my life,
With the radio as my soul,
I am without strife.
My friend calls from behind me,
"Oh! I love this song!"
And the tune, we hummed horribly,
And the lyrics, we all sing wrong.
When that song ends, we all sigh,
As the next one starts to play,
Then my friends scream "We love this song!"
And everything's ok.
So when I drive down my highway,
Rain, hail or shine,
I hear my friends singing next to me,
And I know my life is fine.
:)
Hahah I like it, very vivid. I can imagine myself in the car with you :d and I do love that song ;D
*Gasp* that is....just..a lovely story Al. Please tell me it's not a personal one. How awful to be strangles while listening to Sinatra.
Depressing, so depressing, Al. Lol.
Rachel, clean, nice poem.Al — warning, Popcorn fix. Blaawhoooaaah!
Me: [Shakes his head slowly from side to side.] Al, Al, Al.
Professor: What's your problem? Clean sharp two-by-four across the head. You seem to want to hang around here, so ... [paces the floor and begins to wag his finger at Guy] what else would you expect?
Me: The death part, fine. Frank Sinatra well, that is pretty obvious too, but still fine.
Professor: Then what's your problem?
Me: In an unlike Al way, Al went way over the top with that last line.
Professor: Oh. You mean the ... a tortured never ending death?
Me: Yup. My irreverent side is tempted to pervert the poem.
Professor: You wouldn't!
Me: No. [Big sigh.] I wouldn't.
[Silence.]
Professor: Well! You're dying to tell me, so stop hollywooding — see, I know some street vernacular! — and tell me.
Me: Hmmm. [Pauses.] Okay. it goes....
Professor: Go on, just spit it out!
Me: I would change the last line to pervert the poem to read ... to anything but your drunken wake and the spirits of a never ending death.
Professor: OMG. Oops. Sorry about that, but I don't normally swear. Maybe it's the company your keeping these days. But Guy, what kind of dreck is that?
Me: Yeah, I know. But it is kind of funny, and plays on wake and wake quite nicely. The rest doesn't hold up, but I like the link between alcohol and spirits and spirits.
Professor: So, did you have a non-perverting thought, too?
Me: [Hesitates.] Yes, I do. But it is a bit lame.
Professor: Just s-p-i-t i-t o-u-t.
Me: Okay. Cut "tortured." It's just a bit too over the top.
Professor: You mean like this popcorn?
Me: Yeah, I guess, now that you mention it. Yeah.
Professor: And see, you can't even keep the popcorn out of aisles! Really, who are you to give advice? Seriously.
Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah. You want some cheese with that wine? 'Kraut with that wiener?! [Starts to laugh. The professor shakes his head and walks away.]
Rachel, your rhymes are perfect! Excellent work.M: I’m supposed to say something about Alex’s poem.
Muse: Why do you always expect me to come up with everything you write?
M: I’m no longer deceived that I come up with anything I write.
Muse: (Smiling.) Well, Alex’s poem certainly gets across a mood, doesn’t it, with moonlight, the track from Sinatra’s Strangers in the Night album, the long, strangling fingers? I can’t help but notice, of course, that Frank Sinatra and Frank Putnam have the same first name.
M: Why don’t I ever notice these things?
Muse: (With a sigh.) Because, like most men, you have a woman who’ll do all the work for you. (She arches an eyebrow.) Where would you be without me?
M: (Defensively.) What about Alex’s muse?
Muse: Frank?
Rachel, that was absolutely lovely!!! God, that sounds pretty much exactly like me and my friends on road trips and the such...Sara: Yes, except usually all your friends taking French are spouting random foreign nonsense in the backseat.
Kyra: Hm? Oh, yeah, my birthday party. Well, that was a little annoying, but I enjoyed myself. Now, let's talk about Al's poem.
Sara: What's there to talk about? "You're" dancing to Sinatra, and then "you" die. End of story.
Kyra: Okay, I meant our opinions. I, for one, liked it, but it was also very depressing.
Sara: I see what you mean. It IS depressing that such an amazing young writer could possibly write anything so horrid.
Kyra: (gasp) SARA!!! Apologize to your Cap'n!
Sara: YOU'RE my Cap'n. And I, for one, did not like it.
Kyra: Well, I thoroughly enjoyed myself while reading it. Now, either make up some constructive criticism for Al to use if you truly disliked it, or go back to your novel.
Sara: I choose novel. It's lovely in there. Bye, folks!!!
So sorry, Al. Sara's a total pessimist. I, for one, loved your poem.
I didn’t think I’d come up with a poem for the “Car Music” topic, but here’s one I wrote this afternoon while I was mowing.The Dentist’s Wife
She put her fingers on the dial,
desire quivering on her lips,
and listened to the song awhile
with a slow movement of her hips,
then pushed the lit keys of the phone
and, when he answered, said his name
in a hungry, languorous tone
that made his wildest dreams seem tame.
He picked her up as day grew dim,
and liked the way her hair was styled,
and when she turned her eyes on him,
he seemed merely a bashful child.
In the deep purple afterglow
they drove to a deserted park,
mood music on the radio.
Her fingers found him in the dark,
and how her tongue spoke in his ear
when she wore nothing but her pearls
had much to do, his senior year,
with his disdain for high school girls.
I thought I totally understood that until the last line, now I am lost, was he dating a high school girl or his wife? Or a high school girl soon to be his wife?
The dentist’s wife doesn’t have a satisfying marriage, so she takes advantage of a high school boy.Now that I reread it, I can see what a lousy poem it is. The other day, I was telling my wife, “Somebody has to write crappy poetry, and it might as well be me. I’m really good at it!”
Haha, no your poem was good. I am just a little dense and if there is anything confusing in it at all I have to have it explained. I don't read Edger Poe. Thanks for explaining it.
Christa, you should read Poe! His poetry is an object of derision these days, but I’m a stauch defender of him.
I have found him to be far to confusing. I still cannot figure out "The Raven". If I could only understand it I would read him.
Luckily or unluckily for me, the language in a poem, the images, the mood evoked, are what I read for. Over the years, I read “The Raven” several times, then finally memorized it so that I wouldn’t have to look in a book for it. Often, the better a poem is, the more difficult it is to understand because it operates on more than one level, and the significant meaning is symbolic. The raven in Poe’s poem stands for something. It’s a symbol that--it you know its mysteries--helps make sense of the poem. I’m wired all wrong for understanding poems. I read “The Raven” purely because there was something about it I really liked, but not anything I can name, that I can put my finger on.
I like The Raven! It just had to write about it for a paper.
Thank you, Alex! I hesitated about putting that poem up, but I can’t enjoy writing if I have to take it too seriously.
Why does she hate The Raven? The Pit and the Pendulum was good too.
Huh. That's odd. He's brilliant, if not a little morbid.
Alex (Al) wrote: "Car MusicBy Al
His stereo blasts with cool Sinatra
coming from his parked car.
You dance in the moonlight
as he slinks his arms around you,
wrapping his long fingers around your neck
and he sing..."
I like this one! Good job Al! It's short,
Wow, I missed a lot in just two days of absence here. Car music, eh? Hmmm...have to give that some thought. As always, Al is a genius in sending vivid images with just a few lines. Incredible!
Rachel's poem made me as light and happy as its mood.
M: I was a bit confused too and enjoyed it more the second time I read it after your explanation.
Edgar Allan Poe! I love, I love, I love him! The Raven is my most favorite. Other Poe-ms I love are Annabel Lee, Lenore and A Dream Within a Dream. Short stories: The Black Cat, Tell-Tale Heart, Eleonora, Berenice, Ligeia, Morella, and William Wilson. The others, not that I didn't like them. I just didn't quite understand them well :D I must admit,sometimes it's an effort to read Poe, especially for me whose mother tongue is not English.
Thanks, SheBlogger! You should send me a bill for having read it twice.Morning, Alex!
Sleepy. Summer’s nearly here, and I don’t sleep as well when the weather isn’t cool.
Hmmmmm I don't know if I'll be able to get a poem out on this one. *drums fingers on keyboard thoughtfully*
M wrote: "Thanks, SheBlogger! You should send me a bill for having read it twice."Nah...don't get me wrong. I liked it the first time I read it. Just had a question hanging in my mind. Then I saw your explanation to Christa and read it again. Enjoyed it the second time because I was able to envision the scene much clearer :)
Okay, here's mine for this week:Goodbye Song
By: SheBlogger
She doesn't know that I love her
Neither does she know how much I care
Not an inkling how I need her
Because I never made her aware
I'm just a friend who drives her home
Someone she sings to inside the car
Without a care when we're alone
Not knowing she drives me to the stars
So it's hard to sit there that night
Inside my car, parked outside her home
Being inches from her, takes all might
Dreading that I would soon be alone
And as fate is... always teasing
"This is got to be the saddest day..."
Barry White started narrating
Saying some things that I couldn't say
"Let's just kiss and say goodbye..."
I can only wish I could do such
But as it is, I can't even try
Can't even say I love her so much.
The writing in this poem is so natural, the mood so gentle, it hardly seems like formal verse. This is beautiful!
M wrote: "The writing in this poem is so natural, the mood so gentle, it hardly seems like formal verse. This is beautiful!"Hi, M.
Thank you. I'm glad you find it beautiful, because if you ask me I find it very ordinary. I don't know why but it seems all I can come up with are simple conversational poems that rhyme.
Is why I envy you, and the others here who are very poetic and genius with use of words and imagery. I feel that I'm "not enough of a poet to call forth 'life's' riches" ;)
So it makes me really happy that you people here appreciate my poems. :)
I hope I’m not a bad influence. Hardly anyone writes rhyming poetry anymore. Among serious writers, formal verse started losing ground to free verse almost a century ago. I’ve always preferred rhyming poetry to free verse, though. I have no idea why.
Ooh! I've got a question that might spark a bit of conversation. Everyone please tell me, how did you come across your muse?
Hahaha. That's funny. Oh I'm sure I have one already and have just never noticed. The closest thing I've noticed is that insane protagonist
Alex (Al) wrote: "That is a beautiful poem!"Thank you, Al :)
M wrote: "I hope I’m not a bad influence. Hardly anyone writes rhyming poetry anymore. Among serious writers, formal verse started losing ground to free verse almost a century ago. I’ve always preferred rhym..."No, not at all! For me, it's like I don't have a choice. Every time I try to write, it always ends up in rhymes. Even in greeting cards back in high school! I'm like this since time immemorial. This is why I don't have a lot of short stories.
The first time I tried to write a story, it ended up in a rhyming narrative. I have like 20 stanzas and I still haven't finished the story. I don't think any person of this day and age would appreciate it. But I'm still hoping to finish it because it's rather personal :)
But I also have a few free verse poems back in the days. I haven't really been writing for a long time prior to joining this group. Been years, I think. And by joining this group, I was hoping to be motivated to write more and more...and regularly. So far...so good :)
Cheyenne wrote: "Ooh! I've got a question that might spark a bit of conversation. Everyone please tell me, how did you come across your muse?"Are you referring to one particular muse in our entire poetic existence? :D
I don't think I have that one muse or "ultimate source of inspiration". Maybe what I have is one muse per subject of writing, because most of my writings are based on personal experiences or experiences of friends. Either way, they are real stories with real people. So whoever the story is about, I guess that's my muse for that particular writing.
But ultimately, it's how the story affected me that gives me the inspiration to write about it. Especially, if it's a personal experience. So I guess, my ultimate muse is myself? HAHAHA! How narcissistic of me! :D
I don’t have a good explanation for why I refer to my “muse” other than that I don’t know where else some of my writing comes from. Here’s a curious explanation I read somewhere, though I myself have no idea what to make of it.Suppose that a long time ago there was no such thing as male and female, that each person was both, but that in some dim period of the forgotten past, something happened to cause a division, a disunion of the whole that each person once was, so that afterward a person was born as a particular sex, while other half, unable to incarnate, was left to dwell in the dark depths of the psyche.
All a person’s life, there would be deep sense of the division, an aching desire for the two halves to rejoin, so that the person could become whole again. The half residing in darkness would have no way to make itself known but by showing itself in the eyes, voices, smiles of others, exerting, in those circumstances, an immediate and powerful attraction, for in such instances a person would unknowingly look into the eyes of his or her own soul and for a moment experience the thrill and contentment of becoming whole.
For some reason, I associate my muse with a femme fatale (a woman would have an homme fatal) that seems to dwell in the black depths of my unconscious, who looks me in the eyes, who touches me, as no one else can, who has shown herself to me in the eyes of women I suddenly, inexplicably, found myself helplessly attracted to. This she, whoever and whatever she is, shows up occasionally in my dreams, the kind I wake from with a horrible, hollow feeling of a world I’ve had to leave behind in the mysteries of sleep.
I think of my muse as a personification of an aspect of myself. It’s been only in the last few years, when I realized that the best things I write don’t seem to be things I can consciously fabricate, that I’ve started referring to my “muse,” who I named Alison because of a dream I had years ago and that I awakened from with that name on my mind.
That's fascinating!! Perhaps my muse will someday show himself to me then eh? I've had those sorts of dreams before too. With someone in them that I'd swear I knew but I've never seen them in my life. It's odd
SheBlogger, you remind me of my cousin :) Can't quite put my finger on why though
Well folks I'm off to find company in the shower!(That didn't come out right. The shower is empty I promise.)
Anyways... Heheh. Expect to find me back here soon!
I loved your poem SheBlogger. It was so smooth and gentle. I do have a question: is it written from the perspective of the woman's radio?Sorry I know I am questioning everyone's poems this week, I guess it is all a bit over my head.
M, I liked yours very much. (I was not confused by it.) Smooth and expressive. I liked the ambivalent feelings it evoked: the wife's sadness and the boy's uncertainty about the experience because of his youth: the two feelings came together with a satisfying complexity. And, as usual, the rhymes flowed effortlessly.SheBlogger, I also enjoyed yours a lot. Very natural rhyming and a complex story told very elegantly. Nice!
Oh wow, I didn't realize I still have four days that I could be writing something for this week's topic... Hmmmmmmmm... I'm not having much inspiration. Just wait, I'll try to come up with something :) And Guy, I tweaked the poem a bit and sent you the new version. Hope you like it
Cheyenne wrote: "Ooh! I've got a question that might spark a bit of conversation. Everyone please tell me, how did you come across your muse?"Hmmmmm. I have never really felt a humanized muse when I write. Like M, I have no idea where images or words or ideas come from. When I was young, 12 or 13 or so, I had an absolutely vivid dream that has stayed with me forever. I have come to think of the woman in it as an expression, if not the expression of my anima / muse.
In the dream I had to leave my house/home. When I stepped out the land in our large back yard began to open up right beside our well. A beautiful African princess was rising up from the earth. She was dressed in gorgeous blues and golds, with elaborate and equally colourful and beautiful beads that were draped over her shoulders and woven into her hair. The dream continued on with her rescuing me from the road in front of the house that had turned to molasses when I road my bicycle onto it as she continued to rise out of the earth.
For some reason I have always associated my creativity, whatever I may have of it, with this majestic figure, even though when I am writing I do not 'feel' her as a human presence.
Cheyenne wrote: "Oh wow, I didn't realize I still have four days that I could be writing something for this week's topic... Hmmmmmmmm... I'm not having much inspiration. Just wait, I'll try to come up with somethin..."Yes, I do. I'll reply when I'm not actually writing on my iPad--I find single digit writing impedes my thinking.
And I forgot to comment: WOW, were you guys ever busy in the two days I stayed away! Great popcorn, Al, M, Kyra! Fun discussion all.
That's lovely. I once had a dream (very young) of a boy who saved me from getting hit by a bus by knocking me flat on the ground. The dream repeats occasionally and I can still remember every detail of it. Strange.. Anyways I'll have to say goodbye to everyone... My brother asked me to do the dishes and it sparked an OCD fit (I don't know when my crazy brain will allow me to stop cleaning.) Right now I'm bleaching the counters. Who knows, I might be cleaning all day tomorrow as well. This is why I NEVER clean. I swear I've got partial OCD. I just go NUTS. I'll probably see you all again when I've bleached and srubbed every single thing in the house... Perhaps my 'fit' will subside before then, who knows. But anyways have fun! Happy writing!!
Rachel wrote: "Cool topic :)This Highway
Driving down the highway,
Rachel, Your Poem is so Carefree, I enjoyed reading it.
Alex (Al) wrote: "Car MusicBy Al
His stereo blasts with cool Sinatra
coming from his parked car.
Al, This is a wonderfully small poem, Packed with a Powerful Punch
Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company!
Books mentioned in this topic
The Shadow of the Wind (other topics)Into the Wild (other topics)
City of Glass (other topics)
Middlesex (other topics)
The Lover (other topics)
More...
Please post directly into the topic and not a link and do not use a poem previously used in this group.
Please keep your poem to LESS THAN 3,500 words long.
REMEMBER! A poem can take any size shape form.
This week’s topic is: Car Music
The rules are pretty loose. You could write a poem about anything that has to do with the subject. I do not care, but it must relate to the story somehow.
Have fun!