hradzka: (wtf)
I've been busy with some other things, so this took a while, but it's now official: if you are so inclined, you can now buy my book. It's a collection of all the poems from my descent into madness -- or, as I like to call it, "A Poem Every Day."

For those folks who may have missed it, during the year between January 9, 2009 and January 8, 2010, I wrote a poem every day. The content varied pretty widely. I wrote a lot of poems about monsters, and about mythology, and fairy tales, and history and the news; I wrote songs and bizarre haiku and dirty limericks, and now all of them are collected into absolutely the cheapest 330-page print-on-demand book Lulu would let me sell. I wanted to charge less, but Lulu wouldn't let me. Nor would it let me round the price up a few cents for a rounder number. So, it's $16.20, and if you think that's a) an odd price and b) too much I don't blame you. But they didn't put any restrictions on what price I set for the PDF download, so you can get that for free. (Or if you want to click through the "a poem every day" tag here, you can do that too, of course.) Some of the poems are slightly different in book form than their original, but most of them didn't move at all, or didn't move too far.

If you haven't read any of them, here are a few that I quite liked. (All links to the versions on DW, b/c I crosspost everything and am too lazy to find the links twice.) This gives you an idea of the variety of the selection.

"be careful..."

"medusa"

"princess"

"why a raven is like a writing-desk"

"show me somebody like me"

"i'll leave the light on in the hall"

"way over yonder"


I'm putting up a link to the book in the sidebar where the OH JOHN RINGO NO shirts used to be. As I said a while back, I'm discontinuing the shirts -- I think pretty much everybody who wants one has one, so they're not selling enough to pay for the Cafe Press store, let alone donate more moolah to the Helen Bamber Society. So this seems like a good time to make the swap.

Thanks again for indulging me with this bizarre experiment. I'm pleased with how well it turned out, all in all. Buy the book if you like, or download the free PDF if you'd rather. I'd really appreciate a review or a rating, too, if you have the time.

I never expected that I'd do something like "A Poem Every Day," or that my first book would be poetry. But I did, and it is, and I found it a pleasant surprise. Hopefully you did too.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
Well, this is it. I have now officially written a poem every day for a year. I started January 9, 2009, and January 8, 2010, makes the three-hundred-sixty-fifth poem.

I will still write poetry. But not, I think, every day.


Earth in its orbit, one more revolution --
another year out of our lives drifts away,
and the span we have left faces its diminution,
and me? I tried writing a poem every day.

Three hundred sixty-five pieces of poetry.
Some were all right, some were fair, some were bad.
Some showed too much, in their ways, showed more of me --
If you don't know which, I'll be grateful and glad.

There's no glory in it. I think I got better.
If I'd gotten worse -- well, who knows, who can say?
But I kept it up, clumsily, whether muse freed or fettered,
and now I have written a poem every day.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
There are happies, ever after,
but little mermaids turn to foam;
the gravest hearts give way to laughter,
some cats turn king, and don't come home.

Stories end. One way, another;
the ending turns to suit the tale,
Hero, villain, often brothers;
heroes win, but sometimes fail.

A story never sees its ending.
The denouement is often rough.
I've given up on happy endings:
a happy segue's good enough.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
There was a man who wore the sky
and let the stars in shining train
trail behind as he passed by,
blow in the wind, and catch the rain --
when hung, at day's end, up to dry,
it shrank, so that the moon did wane.
The sky's a little smaller now,
and stretched a bit, if you compare;
the moon is oval now, not round,
and Orion's taller, when he's there.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
Lord, grant to me serenity,
and make me good, and wise, and true,
and make me drop those petty things
that interfere with serving You.
Let me take the things that come,
make me thrifty, and content,
and leave no work that calls undone --
and make me chaste -- but not just yet.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
Arachne, turned into a spider,
gives the same gifts every year --
a scarf? again? oh, thanks, Arachne --
not so good for Christmas cheer.
But think about Arachne's problem:
all that thread builds up, unused,
but spun to yarn, could turn to afghans,
cozys, scarves, and sweaters, too.
What would you do, were you Arachne,
your keester, ceaseless, spewing line?
Set out trotlines on the river?
Make a giant ball of twine?
Arachne, bless her, does one better:
she made Narcissus flashy togs,
knit some lovely Christmas sweaters
for Atalanta's hunting dogs.
But for her curse, unwanted presents
proved an ineffective salve --
for me, now? Really? Thanks, Arachne --
oh, lovely. Socks. You shouldn't have.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
I don't know where I'm going yet;
I just know I can't stay --
no time for sorrows, no regrets,
I'm bound for far and away.

I might climb mountains, swim the seas,
I really couldn't say --
pass the suitcase to me, please,
I'm bound for far and away.

You could come with me if you want, you know,
we'd climb the volcanoes and cross the ice floes
and we'd go down in the deeps and way up in the highs --
you can go anywhere, if you'd only try.

I might brave the heat, or dare the cold,
I've packed for the worst tricks life can play,
no time to waste -- we're getting old,
and I'm bound for far and away.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
When the lights go out, and cold creeps in,
and all is silence, dark and deep,
when the wild wind howls, and the doubts begin,
and there's precious little hope of sleep,
when all the fears long stilled arise,
when all the horrors come to stay --
oh, please, my sweet, don't feign surprise.
I'm your nightmare, child. Let's play.

I'll show you things you've never dreamt of.
You'll try to claw them from your head --
the screams, the rent, stilled flesh, and then, love,
I'll leave you shaking in your bed.
Greatest fears and secret horrors --
there's no end to what I'll do.
I'll share my very darkest monsters,
and terrors I knit just for you.

Please be terrified, my darling.
Bite your lip, and wet your bed.
Make this be forever scarring
or when it's over, I'll be dead.
That's the way it's been forever --
we psychic mayflies disappear,
but I'll live on, just, if I'm remembered --
let me live, brat; GIVE ME FEAR.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
Ages ago, [profile] cyano requested a poem about the 45-foot long fossil snake Titanoboa cerrejonensis. Think of this as a 50s pop song.

(chorus)
It's forty-five feet long and it's comin' to getcha
forty-five feet long from the paleogene
it's the Titanoboa cerrejonensis,
cold-blooded, hot-tempered,
you got no time to scream

well it's big and it's bad and it's snaky and scaly
and it's strong and it's fast and it's powerful too
it's got a broad head and a mighty-long taily
it's rough and it's tough and it's hungry for you

(chorus)

The dinosaurs done, came the Titanoboa
and it squeezed and it squeezed everything that it saw
and it got a good grip on the things that it wanted
it ruled everything and its word was the law

But all reigns have to end, even Titanoboa's,
and it fell from grace and it went on its way
down into a mine and before you would know it
it turned into fossils that we still have today!

(chorus)
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
Earth's gone round the sun one more time already.
Lord, I barely got through this past year with my skin.
It makes a man feel kinda old, and unsteady.
So I'll change for you, Lord, 'cause the old ways wore thin.

Won't take things that's serious for things to take lightly,
won't do no new sins -- at least, none of 'em twice.
No more drinking or smoking, less the ol' boys invite me,
so as to decline it just wouldn't be nice.

Won't steal no more stuff, unless I can't afford it,
won't chase after women, if they run off too fast.
Won't lust for money, but to spend it and hoard it,
won't shoot no man, 'less I pure hate his ass.

Won't take no drugs but the ones that I'm offered,
won't beat up bums for their last swig of beer --
won't rob men of more than they got in their coffers --
...you know, all that stuff I said this time last year.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
Year comes to a close
too soon, already, dammit.
Each one seems shorter.
hradzka: (plane)
Tell us we are tyrant kings.
Denounce us, throw your spittle --
but power is worth everything;
and blood but costs a little.

Be civilized, you say. We are.
But that veneer is brittle:
we're naked apes, beneath the stars,
and blood but costs a little.

Come talk of peace, you say. We will.
But we'll be noncommittal.
We'll talk a while, then make our kill,
and blood but costs a little.

Throw us a trial, then. We don't fear,
For we expect acquittal:
for they'll be gone, and we'll be here,
and blood but costs a little.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
The virgin said, "I have my doubts.
What can all of this fuss be about?"
Then her boyfriend's inflation
spurred initiation,
and she bellowed, "God, don't take it out!"
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
There is a star
that's shining bright
there is a star
that's falling down
there is a star
that soon, tonight
will fall upon our peaceful town.

There will be screams
to split the air
There will be screams
and panic, too
there will be screams
of fear, despair,
and then an end, for me and you.

Now it's falling --
yes, it's pretty.
Now it's falling --
now long now --
Now it's falling --
such a pity --
I'd have left you, if I'd known somehow.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
Honor you the broken man,
All rags and patches, shards and splints,
who hobbles on as best he can
though you see where the sharp bone glints,
Broken's where we all began:
Honor well the broken man.

There are other broken men 
who try their best to pass as gents
and tear themselves anew, again,
and bundle rags to stop the rents.
They're rather brittle, now and then:
Watch you well these broken men.

We are all the broken men.
Deny it all you want, it's true:
and false sometimes, then true again;
so honor me, and honor you.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
the world is hard
the way seems barred,
but there's just a little hope on christmas

the road is long
the foes are strong,
but there's just a little hope on christmas

you can see it in the snow
in the way some smiles just seem to grow
the way the tables fill with plenty
with folks at home the streets are empty

never one to celebrate
but take one day and make it great
there's just a little hope
(just a little hope)
there's just a little hope on christmas!
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
this
is a poem
that doesn't make sense
written
in the wee
small hours

this
isn't much
of a recompense
but I
forgot
to bring you flowers

this
is a song
that doesn't look like one
a song
that i'm
singing for you

this
is a song
and I wrote this one
to show
that I
adore you
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
The Yuletide pressure
means writing really a lot
poetry suffers
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
A little winged snitch made of gold
can win Quidditch games, so I'm told.
One Seeker who passed
caught the snitch up his ass
and found victory sweet, and quite cold.
hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
Help the hippo hop the hamper
packed for picnics perfectly.
See the squirrels scurry, scamper,
find their food scraps fast and flee.

Profile

hradzka: Cassidy, from Garth Ennis's PREACHER. (Default)
hradzka

November 2014

S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
30      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

YOU NEED A BOOK

A POEM EVERY DAY

The collected poems from my descent into madness year spent writing daily poems are now available from Lulu as the cheapest 330-page book they would let me make ($16.20). If that's too pricey, you can also get it from Lulu as a free download, or just click on the "a poem every day" tag to read them here. But if you did buy one, that'd be awesome.

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 05:37 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios