poetry critical

online poetry workshop



Poetry prose and Pensions
larrylark

Is it worth it? Living fast
 1
to die young, tortured and tormented,
 2
the life blood of your imagination
 3
trickling to a stop on the page
 4
on most days.
 5
 
 
Constipation of the cortex, a constant
 6
occupational hazard, will you live long
 7
enough to laugh at the twisted
 8
angst of your younger self?
 9
Wouldn't you rather
 10
 
 
be Chatterton in a bath chair
 11
with a wrinkled quill? Churning out
 12
rows of words – three thousand a day
 13
or Dylan Thomas, pint in hand,
 14
tapping out
 15
 
 
novels about being old and bald,
 16
no dying of the light or rage
 17
in his 77th year, or maybe silver-haired
 18
Plath, laughing at memories
 19
of idiotic Ted,
 20
 
 
scribbling copy with her twilight
 21
garden close at hand. Iambic pentameters
 22
now consigned to the past with those other
 23
subtle devices that clutter the mind along
 24
with the despair they bring.
 25
 
 
No mind enjambed with trochee
 26
or grappling with vodka inducing
 27
caesura, words mocking you from the page,
 28
hand grenades about to blow up
 29
in your face.
 30
 
 
So, no more wingless rhythms, let
 31
the prose syntax flow, filling your computer screen,
 32
spilling from one file into another.
 33
Payment by the paragraph. Research shows
 34
if you want
 35
 
 
to grow old to, God only knows,
 36
maybe even pensionable age
 37
don't choose poetry, stick to prose
 38
and who knows, Harold Robbins may
 39
become your muse.
 40

23 Apr 04

Rated 9 (9) by 2 users.
Active (2):
Inactive (1): 8, 9, 10

(define the words in this poem)
(646 more poems by this author)



Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha

Comments:

This is brilliant -satire.
 — unknown

amen, brother!
by the by... how does one become a " poet laureate " ?
it seems cities and countries employ these people ( to what end i don't know- but it sounds well- paying)
 — chuckles

Hi Chuckles

You become the poet laurete by sucking up to the queen and the Minister for Arts after travelling round England telling all the darlings who write shit that they are wonderful. Then you say not one controversial thing for 20 years and if you manage all that you might be short listed. Actually, who gives a fuck.

Larry King of his own domain Lark
 — larrylark

Do people in the States get satire? Sometimes i wonder.

Larry Languishing in bile Lark
 — larrylark

i don't know...
do fleas get fleas?
-c
 — unknown

I think everything and every one carries some sort of parasite. I found a dead slug in the bottom of a cup that had been left out on the patio and it was swarming with infintisimally tiny things i've never seen bfore, like they were vultures doing a survey on a corpse.

Larry
 — larrylark

vultures doing a survey on a corpse...
there's a nifty poem just beggin'
ta happen, right there...
good one
 — chuckles

this makes me smile in such a peaceful way; while the content may seem troubling you've added your touch of humor. i like prose not being capitalized. i do indeed. can't stress that enough.
 — listen

Wonderful stuff, Larry. Intelligent, irreverend and sparky.
 — MarcusLane

this poem reminded me of Robert Lowell's line after a stay in the looney bin, paraphrased here, "Cured, I am frizzled, stale, small."  

your writing reminds us of one source of really bad poetry (personal shite) and asks us, as poets--how far are we really willing to go for our Art?  i say, unless you've got the chops to turn your shit into true art, go far!  down those pills, eat your gun,  but please don't inflict us with musings of your sad childhood, your asshole of a spouse, or your bad day.  

i think some of us yanks get satire, larkness.  at least the broad variety.  a dying art, satire.  i enjoyed yours!  

no crits, as this is whole and clear.  thank you for the smiles and imagery of becalmed, aging Plath, Thomas, etc.!  
 — pittsburgh

0.014s