Community Poetry Project

Purpose: To get poetry out to people who might not ordinarily be exposed in different ways. In short, to shove poetry in faces - but in a friendly way (quoting the great Kevlar Mc"Fear"son).

Project: Creating "appetizer" cards to entice readers to learn more about poetry. Just a nibble, a taste, to leave them wanting more.

Synopsis: So, it might not be the most original idea, but I pulled together 30 cards, painted a picture on the front (so people wouldn't think it was garbage and throw it out) and sticker a few lines of poetry on the back with a link so they can read more. My intention is to place the cards inside of library books - those that poetry people wouldn't read (like mechanical textbooks, science books, biographies, etc.).

Photos of project putting-togetherness:

stickers of poem-ness!

gotta have some india ink

fun paintings to capture attention (yes, i'm no artist)

dear blogger, why don't you let me rotate photos?

finished product

lookit all those great poem-y cards!

Delivery: Sneaking into the library like a ninja with squeaky shoes, I crept up to the Vernon Okanagan Library branch's second floor and wafted into the non-fiction sections. My first target: Biographies! Here I met an interesting challenge - avoiding artsy-type biographicals, as presumably these people have had some exposure to poetry.

Funny story - I was so intent on getting this project completed successfully that I didn't notice that the bathroom I used on the way out had urinals ; )

My first target:

"AHHHHrnold says, read this poem, fool!" - Wait, that's Mr. T.

Good 'ole Arnold. Next I thought "who else probably isn't expose to a lot of poetry?" Answer - sports people! Probably a bit of stereotype, but alas:

Ahh, nothing goes together like poetry and baseball

Nearby I located another source of poetential new poetry fanatics, anime readers! Hop out of your crazy righty-lefty reading books and come check out some Emily Dickenson!

hi-ya!

My quest continued...books on knitting, books on pets, my card pile dwindiling by the minute as I kept an eagle eye out for crafy librarians who could sabatoge my plan.

My final stealthy submission:

Cancer and...flourine? I might have tried to
match the poems to the text a bit better...

Maybe a bit macabre, but I thought if anyone needs a bit of distraction, it's probably people with cancer, right?

GO POETRY!

Blert, Blort, Blabbart

I found Jordan Scott's Blert half fascinating, half...hem. I get that it's an exploration of the sounds that Jordan may have difficulty with in spoken language, but is that an excuse to cram words where they don't belong?

Example, p36:

Broca's
camel clutch
grapple thalamus flux
box tonsils fresh black box
tongue scatter suckle polygon
syllable collar pop
mullet split end
leg lock glottal
lip off

What in the hell? What is a camel clutch? A syllable collar pop? Who the hell knows!

Here's one I found interesting and felt I could get behind (p32)

I take the spoon out of my mouth. Open wide. Wait for trill. Open wide. Will not mumble, will not slur, will not dread the word, will not chew gum, or put gobstoppers, lollipops or toffee in my mouth before each vocal tilt flirts cuckoo. If you brace a megaphone to my throat, you will hear a tiddlywink blink, a lark rustle in the ripe corn, and my esophagus blunderbuss - exhaust in your glossary.

I guess my hang up is that I like things to make sense, I have trouble when things intentionally do not make sense - but that doesn't mean it's not good.

P.S. The cover is cool ass.

Bowler

the man stopped us

with a creased palm

framing his face

was a floppy

hat battered

ageless the

kind of hat you’d

find on the titanic

worn by bilge pumpers

as they fought with

panic rising – wet

the color of a blackened sea

this man, this

relic of olden times,

cracked

a toothy smile wished

us a good morning

Ging

(Sorry about missing last night - it's been a bit of a rough week and I fell asleep!)

My dog and I
are two of a pair,
my mousey brown,
her golden hair -
or fur, I mean (that's
her, not me)
And then there's
how we both like trees.
Me the green, the
freshness and peace -
her to urinate and
mark her place.
We love affection,
scratches and kisses.
On many occasions
we're referred to as bitches.

(needs more but I ran out of inspiration)

Negative

No one writes about
falling out of love
the drift - continental
masses edging apart
It takes less work to
watch than trying
to push two fractured
souls back together.

No one writes about that

No one writes about
losing your soul mate
one bickering argument
at at time - pieces
nibbled away until
only a shell remains.

No one writes about that

No one writes about
the slow loss, the
bleed, drip drip drip
as your dreams are
pushed aside and
you melt away
until nothing remains.

No one writes about that.

Disclosure...hmmmm

While I did find the premise of Disclosure of interest, I don't really see how it fits into the Poetry genre, unless one is to look at each page as a line as part of one poem? It struck me as a sort of archaeological experiment - unsheathing each single piece of evidence to paint a picture of a person.

I enjoyed some of the juxtapositions of pieces - a job rejection letter from 2004 next to a certificate of award for a golf program in 1976, or an award of $900 next to a tick-ridden lab report. It reminded me that, as a child, our accomplishments seem like such enormous events - but in reality they are nearly always of little or no consequence in the broader scheme of life. It also made me realize how much what we do in life is controlled by others - jobs, vacations, houses, purchases, etc.

Would the text have been better in chronological order? Perhaps it would have been easier to paint of picture of Dana Lomax, but it wouldn't have been as artistic? I like asking questions that I don't answer : )

Bill O

You're a goddamned liar, Bill O'Reilly,
   dodging bullets, hurling insults
Too ashamed to face the truth - you lied
   hiding behind vitriol and condemnation
   a coward

You're a goddamned liar, Bill O'Reilly,
   throwing stones in glass houses
Not even, houses made of bone china
   so thin you can't breathe without breaking
   shards all around

You're a goddamned liar, Bill O'Reilly,
   we already knew in our hearts
A hypocrite, a puppet, a showmaster
   selling self as credible while tearing
   down your betters

You're a goddamned liar, Bill O'Reilly,
   passing off opinion as fact,
Is it your opinion? Did you drink the Kool Aid?
   biding time while ghostwriters churn out
   tomes of dissiumlation

You're a goddamned liar, Bill O'Reilly,
   you blame semantics
But no one on Earth could ever mistake
  your meaning, a protest and war zone
  no the same thing.

You're a goddamned liar, Bill O'Reilly,
   made your bed
   watch you fall