| Poem: Submit | Random | Best | Worst | Recent | Comments |
|
i will not come to bangladesh (Free verse) by lost in america you send a picture with
a last plea;
before the monsoons
stop the mail and
boats take to the streets.
shrouded in khimar
a gaunt face
i barely remember,
but a smile to make
all men stare in secret.
in the last nights of
america
we drank until sloppy
drunk, until leaving
normal
seemed the thing to do
on a saturday night.
you were brave and
i loved you for it,
but i had a job at the mill,
and a dog to take care of,
and a girl waiting at home
that wouldn't
understand
how bad i needed you to stay.
you have become
used to the tropical heat,
the blur of languages stuck
in constant prayer,
the poverty of children -
the difference between
comfort and fear;
the swell of the Meghna,
men with guns.
tides of uncharted seas
will not move me
to breathe this foreign air,
taste the delta
against your lips,
live my life over again
only to drown.
Up the ladder:
I Had A Little Nut Tree
Down the ladder:
New school nursery rhymes
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.027027
Posted: March 7, 2003 11:29 AM PST; Last modified: March 7, 2003 11:29 AM PSTWeighted score: 6.0269003 Overall Rank: 1241 Comments:
That's good shit. Haven't i read this somewhere? Glad i didn't put my foot in my mouth. You are a better poet, and i could learn from you. Thanks, you're right i am still a boy, but i'm growing fast. Great poem.
One problem here. I don't like you or your poem any more. Stuffy dot head shit.
Okay, thank you. But I believe you have mistaken the Muslim religion for Hinduism. Bangladesh is 80 percent Muslim. The rest is divided between a hodgepodge of Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism (or the dot head as you call it), among others. Some even tribal. The woman is question is neither of these, although I believe she was raised Lutheran. She teaches for the International American School. Just to give you a heads up. But considering the poem does deal with assumed stereotypes, I will cut you a bit of slack for the dot head comment.
I tried to be nice but you let it go to your head. On further review. You fail! It moves like a snake, but it tastes like chicken. I should send horus over, but that would really make you look bad so. see you later. Dickk
I am not sure what you are talking about. Sounds more like rambling. But thanks.
So let me get this straight, toby. Considering you seem to be about 100 different people in your head clique and wired many ranking powers, am I to believe that the only way I can get any real advice around this place is if I like all of your poems. What an interesting policy. And If I accidentally do not like one of the poems you wrote under any number of your user names I am to be labeled numerous form of creative profanity because you cannot seem to take any sort of criticism. Well okay then, just give me a list of all your people and I will give them all good tidings! lol.
Sir, are you mad dogging the mob? Perhaps i am conducting an experiment. What if i said part of me likes this poem, and part of me hates it. The good news is the best comment you got was from da. your problem is right there. In other words, the style and structure is completely gauche, and artisticaly 'safe' Either go total concrete, or make the structure serve your words and story here, because that's where the good shit is. Here's a ten. Now Skiddadal. I never said you had to like anything. I'm just messing around with new theories of and within communication, lacking audio, and visual identification upon a computer. This was only a test.
I may lose my "cool", but I like
this poem. Yes sir, I like it a bunch. wunderbar! oktoberfest! midnite madness!
I like this poem a whack.
and pooh-poohing lowercase is old, it is meta-stuffiness. Capitals get in the way sometimes, it's as simple as that. Words are meant to be twisted and poked and well-used and fucked with. Kind of like^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^Hwoah, CAREFUL
all the hoopla is well deserved
it's a great poem but I still have to limerick you:
I think "lost in america"'s lost and would be wheree'r he was tossed he skipped Bangledesh and some chick's willing flesh because of the cultural cost.
but will you come to connecticut?
No.
so you say.
Not as sexy as the title would suggest - oh, I thought it said come ON Bangladesh. Sorry . You get an 8.
beautifully written
Indeed. Well said. A story well told, as only a slightly seasoned truth can be. -10-
don't come to bangladesh, its full of bangladeshi's! What, why the reaction? No-one complains when its about the french and their smelly cheese-eating-surrener-monkey antics!
This poem is a lesson in conjuring images with words. I have signed up for the course and my cheque is in the mail.
Only, something in the end "feels" awkward. The brevity of "...only to drown", I think. I may disagreee with myself after another read or two, though. 9 for the feelings. Encore!
wow. A man of words I am, but I only have one for you. Wow.
nice
wHAT A BUNCH OF FUCKWITS!
298 view(s)
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
(i) Great use of random line breaks and indentation to make the piece seem more profound!
(ii) Great use of lower case letters for the entire piece to make it look minimalist and deliberately understated!
(iii) Excellent reminiscing about how you both got sloppy drunk one night; those were the days - carefree, young and free-spirited, and carefree, and free, and free, and young. What memories. What happiness. What originalty.
(iv) Frankingstein is the name of the MONSTER. NOT the doctor who created him. It's a common misconception, and one you ought to consider before handing in your application for frozen justification.
me and count chocula got drunk one night
and painted frankenberry green.
that was a time of carefree
drunken carefree memory and
gallons of
milk
that we drowned that damned
annoying booberry in.
hey, cap'n crunch stole my hustler.
I didn't know they wired the mammoth to talk?
Interesting. You ever see Ringo Starr in that Caveman movie? Funny shite, mang.