Relative Poetry

Tonight I updated my other blog, Relative Poetry. It still had the old blogger template and everything. Now it has a new template and a nifty new drawing as well.

I created Relative Poetry on New Year's Eve, 2005. Originally I envisioned it as a collective enterprise publishing poems from a bunch of poet and non-poet friends of mine. One poet, Amethyst Vineyard, answered the call and for about six months she and I rocked the house, poetry style. Then she got too busy for blog poetry (go figure!) and since then I've carried on the blog sporadically at best (I've also deleted her archived poems from the blog in the interest of copyright shit I might not understand and get screwed on down the road). For one thing, I in no way consider myself a poet, not even if I'm drunk and at a party full of poetry loving co-eds (as happens every weekend here in Boise). I am, however, always willing to make a fool of myself in the hopes that occasionally at least a good line or two is created (at this at least I've been successful, the former or the latter you may judge as you see fit).

Unlike all my prose writing, fiction or otherwise, I compose the poems rapidly, without nearly any forethought at all. I guess I find it freeing, or amusing, or both.

So. Go ahead and try writing poetry for yourself! An ode to your own genitals is always a good start.

6 comments:

starshrine said...

- or an ode to the genitals of others:

Oh Rosebud, oh Rosebud...

Ken McConnell said...

I like to read William Blake. But I don't write poetry. My favorite modern poem is "High Flight" by Gillespie Magee. That was the only poem I ever memorized.

Blogagaard said...

I read "High Flight" as part of my high school graduation speech!

mikey said...

What is my penis?

A mystery,
a figment
and all powerful.

Blogagaard said...

That's the spirit, Mike! You should send that to The New Yorker.

mikey said...

Already done. Look for it next month. The reviews said my writing was similar to that of F. Scott Fitzgerald's if he had drank as much as Charles Bukowski.

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