Look: I am eager to learn stuff I don't know--which requires actively courting and posting smart disagreement.

But as you will understand, I don't like to post things that mischaracterize and are aimed to mislead.

-- Brad Delong

Copyright Notice

Everything that appears on this blog is the copyrighted property of somebody. Often, but not always, that somebody is me. For things that are not mine, I either have obtained permission, or claim fair use. Feel free to quote me, but attribute, please. My photos and poetry are dear to my heart, and may not be used without permission. Ditto, my other intellectual property, such as charts and graphs. I'm probably willing to share. Let's talk. Violators will be damned for all eternity to the circle of hell populated by Rosanne Barr, Mrs Miller [look her up], and trombonists who are unable play in tune. You cannot possibly imagine the agony. If you have a question, email me: jazzbumpa@gmail.com. I'll answer when I feel like it. Cheers!

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Wednesday Poetry Blogging

Introduction to the Poet's Mouse

If you drop a mouse in a poem
He will hold it to the light, perhaps.
Or probe it for a rhyme.

Then he'll ask you to read it to him.
One more time.
Again, this time, with feeling.

When you've finished, he'll want to
Look at himself in a mirror,
Bat his eyelashes.
See if he can find himself in the rhythm.
Or the time.

If you give a mouse the time,
He will ask you for a metronome.
And beat it.

If the beat is right,
He will want a melody.

And a melody can arch and swell,
Make a point, a counterpoint,
Be notable:
Get carried away and sweep
Throughout the house, for a mouse
Can make any floor a dance floor, as well.

If you give a mouse a melody,
He'll look up at you
And remind you
That a melody needs words
To become a song.

If you give a mouse the words
Of a song - a lyric, odistic,
(Or not.)
Then he will want to live in those words.

So -
You drop a mouse in a poem.

Copyright Jazzbumpa. All rights reserved.

Not exactly a parody this time - but, still a reaction to another poem, just right in the age of 24.* This time, with a little outside help, perhaps.
* The other one, not mine.

No comments: