OH my eyes… MY EYES!!!
::::::Holds Gun to Temple::::::
DON’T EVER DO THAT TO US AGAIN!!!
AAAGGHHHH!!!
It’s not as bad as, say, Vogon poetry.
But it could be a lot better.
I love it when CNN has to write articles that truly sound like something from The Onion.
Oh wait. No I don’t. That makes my head hurt.
[Mark Lamar]
Actually, I enjoyed it.
Well, I say “enjoyed”; I actually meant “tolerated”.
Well, I say “tolerated”; I actually meant “endured”.
Well, I say “endured”; I actually mean “would rather cover the inside of my eyelids with Tabasco sauce and ram salt-encrusted razor blades under my fingernails than ever again come with a 300-mile radius of”
But apart from that, it wasn’t bad.
[/Mark Lamar]
It’s better than I could have done.
It’s a joke poem he left on his bed for his wife - give the guy a break. It’s not like he tried to get it published in the New Yorker.
When I first looked at this, I was deathly afraid he’d, like, written some dreadful poem and put it on whitehouse.gov or something.
I’d be willing to give the guy more of a break if the process of reading that hadn’t been so profoundly painful.
My heart saddens for the woman that must make do with being called “a lump in the bed” affectionately.
But on the other hand the PR guys kept it a realistic and believable little item, although I would advise them to aim just a bit higher next time. No big war-ships references and lose the my-first-poetry-lesson roses are red theme and he should do just dandy.
George W can write?!?!
I don’t believe it.
“The distance, my dear, has been such a barrier / Next time you want an adventure, just land on a carrier.”
Oh, sweet Jesus…
y’all gots yuh a prez-i-dawnt wif brains. So creative.
::sniff::
It’s… Beautiful, man…
::sniff::
I think we need to analyze this work to unearth its true genius.
A good start. The author uses a classic motif to establish a sense of familiarity and romanticism.
Here, we see the author contrasting a mundane yet affectionate image - “bed” hints of passion, but “lump” brings the reader squarely back into the land of the prosaic. He follows this with a bald declaration of his longing.
Cleverly reversing the motif, he inserts himself into the rhyme; the author substitutes himself with a flower, to make us think of things floral - a “Bush”, perhaps?
The author here uses sarcasm to indicate his displeasure - a precursor of the ghastly imagery that is to follow.
The author here projects his feelings of alienation onto his ‘familiars’. In the second line of this stanza, the author cleverly breaks the initial rhythm. This has a jarring effect that could not have been in the least bit unintentional. We are now presented with a bleak image that hints at some terrible urban dystopia: a wild animal, hobbled and anthropomorphised by domestication, wreaking revenge on his tormentors by ingesting industrial consumer products.
The “distance” has been a “barrier”. The author turns familiar imagery on its head: distance can be a barrier; so a void can be a solid; love can be hate; black can be white. The meaning here pivots on the crucial non-sequiteur of the final line: a tour-de-force summation of the heart-rending emotions expressed heretofore; the author gathers all the strands he has established: cliché, longing, passion, irony, and then savagely deconstructs them all for the reader in stark, dynamic, militaristic imagery.
I was wrapt.
…jjimm, Jesus just finished reading your analysis.
…He hates you.
*How do I love thee?
Let me discount the ways…*
“Actually, I quite liked it.”
Look, I can understand why George wrote it. It’s a clumsy, affectionate, funny little poem left as a token of love. Sure it’s awful. Most such poems are awful. But it was a sweet gesture.
What I can’t grok is why Laura felt compelled to share it with the world :eek:
“Next time you want an adventure, just land on a carrier.”
Because France stays in one faraway place, but a carrier sails in lazy circles 30 miles offshore.