Saturday, January 31, 2015

The Pose

Léopold-Émile Reutlinger - LOTI, Manon_SIP. 934. Photo Reutlinger/
Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain

I think I’ll rip these curtains down.
They clash with my charmeuse Worth gown.
I’d break the Internet, you see,
but it is just nineteen-oh-three.
Instead of grease, I wear this dress.
that’s quite notorious.  The press
would love to see some more of me,
but it is just nineteen-oh-three.
No Internet.  No YouTube buzz.
No Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr.  Does
that mean I can’t break hearts?  How dree,
but it is just nineteen-oh-three.
Celebutants must feed the need
of culture or they won’t  succeed.
‘Though I am hardly bourgeoisie,
the year is still nineteen-oh-three.

Notes: The form is Kyrielle.  The pose which was struck in this portrait reminded me of a certain woman on the cover of a certain magazine, who was supposed to 'Break the Internet.'  I thought it was kind of an interesting comparison.  Also, although the woman in the above postcard was clearly wearing Edwardian dress, I do not know if the dress was actually Worth, or if the picture was even taken in 1903 - although it was from a collection that was created in that general era.

Sunday, January 25, 2015


Microbes/Sewage, 2014…Author: Sustainable Sanitation Alliance.  This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.  Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.  

Salmonella – what a fella!
He went viral with Rubella
on the YouTube site ‘Infective.’
Are you sick?  That’s their objective.
E. Coli’s best friend is Crypto.
They both never walk on tiptoe
when your system’s ineffective.
Are you sick?  That’s their objective.
Pseudomonas, Fungi, MRSA -
they’re another gang.  A curse, a
blight, a pestilence collective.
Are you sick?  That’s their objective.
Salmonella – what a fella!
Are you sick?  That’s their objective.


Notes:  The form is Kyrielle Sonnet.  I came across the above graphic, and it just seemed to lend itself to this poem instantly. 

Saturday, January 24, 2015

A Toast to Socks

The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes...from A Song of Sixpence by Walter Crane, 1909.
Image is courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.  Public Domain.

Just Plain Wrong

“Never put a sock in a toaster.” ~Eddie Izzard

I sniff and smell a thing that’s burnt.
The scent is bad.  I haven’t learnt
that socks just simply don’t belong
in things like toasters. Just plain wrong.
It’s just that my toes feel like ice,
and toasty socks would be quite nice!
I should have known this all along:
No socks in toasters.  Just plain wrong.         
But if I’d put my toes inside
the toaster…well…my hide’d be fried.
A sock plus toaster? My torch song.
No socks in toasters.  Just plain wrong.
I sniff and smell a thing that’s burnt
in things like toasters. Just plain wrong. 


The poetic form is Kyrielle Sonnet.  I happened to see the above quote (which is serving as my epigraph here) and it just conjured up some funny mental images.  My imagination was ignited, so to speak, and thus a poetic conflagration ensued.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015


A woodcut of the ruins of Kildare Cathedral, c. 1835.  Anonymous - The Penny Magazine of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. Vol. 4. 11 July 1835. London.  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.


“Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.” ~Gustave Flaubert

Amidst these ruins, I can see
a ghost who quite impossibly
still hints that I will somehow find
a love whom I’d once left behind.
I won’t believe this ghost.  But then,
I’m more concerned with now; not when.
Still…maybe it’s my state of mind:
A love that I’d once left behind?
My thoughts might haunt me, as they may,
but in these ruins, thoughts don’t weigh
much more than leaves with wind entwined
for love.  I've left regret behind.
Amidst these ruins, I can see
a love; but love was left behind.


Notes: The form is Kyrielle Sonnet.  The poem was inspired by both the above artwork and the above quote.  It was posted on Poetic Asides today, since their Wednesday prompt theme is, "State of the ..."  
I would also like to add that the poem is merely a creation; that is, the words came to mind to form the poem, and they do not have any real life bearing on me or my past, although I suppose in an alternative universe, it could have happened that way.