Here is a poem by a third grader in Tempe Arizona named Michelle, who happens to be a very gifted poet. This poem, written in January 2004 is a fine example.

The Tsunami

I silently aim
towards the land where I'll pour
I send myself to the city
Here comes the crash that I hate
I brush the sand
I cover and say goodbye
to the homes, buildings and cars

I sink back in the ocean
and offer thanks to the earthquake

How sweet. Honey, don't worry about the rhymes. i think they're wonderful. Keep writing, Michelle.

P.S. Another sad note: i just heard that Jerry Orbach passed away. So weird that i just wrote that poem about him. i didn't even know he was sick until i read Matt's comment.

Dawn Summers (guest posting at Alarming News) has a personal remembrance.

Posted by: annika at 12:01 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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The most poetic Bible translation is, i think, the New International Version. I don't know anything about its accuracy, but the NIV sure has beautiful rhythm.

Here's Isaiah, chapter 40. Read it as if it were a poem, listen to the meter, and you'll see what i mean. Feel the beauty and power in these words of prophesy, whose fulfillment we Christians celebrate this-coming Saturday.

Comfort, comfort my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and proclaim to her
that her hard service has been completed,
that her sin has been paid for,
that she has received from the Lord's hand
double for all her sins.

A voice of one calling:
"In the desert prepare
the way for the Lord;
make straight in the wilderness
a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be raised up,
every mountain and hill made low;
the rough ground shall become level,
the rugged places a plain.
And the glory of the Lord will be revealed,
and all mankind together will see it.
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken."

A voice says, "Cry out."
And I said, "What shall I cry?"

"All men are like grass,
and all their glory is like the flowers of the field.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
because the breath of the Lord blows on them.
Surely the people are grass.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
but the word of our God stands forever."

You who bring good tidings to Zion,
go up on a high mountain.
You who bring good tidings to Jerusalem,
lift up your voice with a shout,
lift it up, do not be afraid;
say to the towns of Judah,
"Here is your God!"
See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power,
and his arm rules for him.
See, his reward is with him,
and his recompense accompanies him.
He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young.

Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand,
or with the breadth of his hand marked off the heavens?
Who has held the dust of the earth in a basket,
or weighed the mountains on the scales
and the hills in a balance?
Who has understood the mind of the Lord ,
or instructed him as his counselor?
Whom did the Lord consult to enlighten him,
and who taught him the right way?
Who was it that taught him knowledge
or showed him the path of understanding?

Surely the nations are like a drop in a bucket;
they are regarded as dust on the scales;
he weighs the islands as though they were fine dust.
Lebanon is not sufficient for altar fires,
nor its animals enough for burnt offerings.
Before him all the nations are as nothing;
they are regarded by him as worthless
and less than nothing.

To whom, then, will you compare God?
What image will you compare him to?
As for an idol, a craftsman casts it,
and a goldsmith overlays it with gold
and fashions silver chains for it.
A man too poor to present such an offering
selects wood that will not rot.
He looks for a skilled craftsman
to set up an idol that will not topple.

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
Has it not been told you from the beginning?
Have you not understood since the earth was founded?
He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth,
and its people are like grasshoppers.
He stretches out the heavens like a canopy,
and spreads them out like a tent to live in.
He brings princes to naught
and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing.
No sooner are they planted,
no sooner are they sown,
no sooner do they take root in the ground,
than he blows on them and they wither,
and a whirlwind sweeps them away like chaff.

"To whom will you compare me?
Or who is my equal?" says the Holy One.
Lift your eyes and look to the heavens:
Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one,
and calls them each by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
not one of them is missing.

Why do you say, O Jacob,
and complain, O Israel,
"My way is hidden from the Lord;
my cause is disregarded by my God?"
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.

O thou that tellest good
tidings to Zion,
get thee up into the high mountain.
O thou that tellest good
tidings to Jerusalem,
lift up
thy voice
with strength;
lift it up,
be not afraid;
say unto the cities of Judah,
behold your God!
behold your God!
behold your God!

Arise,
shine,
for thy light is come,
the glory of the Lord
is risen upon thee.

Posted by: annika at 12:01 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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Finding good poems to post is hard. i need to feel inspired, and i wasn't yesterday. But you're in luck. To make it up to you, i decided to dash off an annika original. Yes, i wrote a poem. It loosely follows the Elizabethan sonnet format. Took me about five minutes too, but hey. Here you go: more...

Posted by: annika at 08:56 PM | Comments (15) | Add Comment
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Okay this one is for the guys. Since most guys seem to like Bukowski and i haven't posted anything by him yet.

You know his story. Born in Germany, lived in San Pedro, brutally funny poet and story writer, drunk, total mysogynist, the polar opposite of PC.

Long before Dr. Laura came up with the idea for her book, The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands, Charles Bukowski knew the score:

She Said

what are you doing with all those paper
napkins in your car?
we dont have napkins like
that
how come your car radio is
always turned to some
rock and roll station? do you drive around with
some
young thing?

you're
dripping tangerine
juice on the floor.
whenever you go into
the kitchen
this towel gets
wet and dirty,
why is that?

when you let my
bathwater run
you never
clean the
tub first.

why don't you
put your toothbrush
back
in the rack?

you should always
dry your razor

sometimes
I think
you hate
my cat.

Martha says
you were
downstairs
sitting with her
and you
had your
pants off.

you shouldn't wear
those
$100 shoes in
the garden

and you don't keep
track
of what you
plant out there

that's
dumb

you must always
set the cat's bowl back
in
the same place.

don't
bake fish
in a frying
pan...

I never saw
anybody
harder on the
brakes of their
car
than you.

let's go
to a
movie.

listen what's
wrong with you?
you act
depressed.

Posted by: annika at 09:12 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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1 "sometimes i think you hate my cat" Best line in the poem. Excellent choice today!

Posted by: Hugo at December 01, 2004 09:23 AM (hLkRz)

2 That's always been a favorite of mine. In fact, I think about that poem all the time.

Posted by: Paul at December 01, 2004 12:16 PM (vbP6L)

3 Hey, what the fuck were you doing on a Bon Jovi site anyway?

Posted by: Paul at December 01, 2004 12:17 PM (vbP6L)

4 Bon Jovi did not write that. My wife did. She adds a new stanza daily though. It's hard to keep track.

Posted by: Robbie at December 01, 2004 01:29 PM (AAqv2)

5 Oh no, i was googling for the poem. Let no one think i am a Bon Jovi fan! Gawd no.

Posted by: annika at December 01, 2004 05:49 PM (IXUsR)

6 And she thinks she can change him.

Posted by: Ontario Emperor at December 03, 2004 11:20 PM (k9zwi)

7 Someone once said that women want men to change and are disappointed when they don't, while men want women to stay the same and are disappointed when they change.

Posted by: Dave J at December 04, 2004 05:54 AM (ZCABJ)

8 This is a great peom. I always go into AutoNag right after sex for at least 10 hours. It cant be helped.

Posted by: Bettina at April 11, 2005 11:44 AM (M7kiy)

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