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Jul. 18th, 2013 06:03 pmApparently flist is in poetry mode...so wandered on the net to find something. Figured I'd try Robert Bly, whose the father of Mary Bly (aka Eloisa James).
ganked from everyone.
If you see a poem today...post one..
I don't know if I like the above poem, seems rather morbid actually. But it also fits my mood. I'm admittedly picky when it comes to poetry. Most poetry seems to be insanely self-indulgent (ie. about love lost or gained, much like the stereotypical country western songs and pop tunes) or about how quaint that flower or leaf looks (which always reminded me of a still life painting.)
Sweaty day. Oven. Little air. Can barely breath out in it. Sweated on the way home.
Stayed late at work...desperate to get out a contract. Took all day long. I'm so behind.
I can't see my desk. Yet, I weirdly enjoy being busy. So much better than the alternative.
I would not survive in a routine job, even if it aids in creative thought.
In other news? The emmy's were announced today. Not that surprised. Am a wee bit disappointed. Is it just me or is Downton Abbey grossly overrated? It's not bad, but I wouldn't have nominated it over the Good Wife, Justified, or Orphan Black. I found Downton to be a bit silly and overwrought. I also wish there could be rule - you can only be nominated five times, after that - it's someone else's turn. Plus, Emilia Clark as best supporting over Maisie Williams or the woman who played Catelynn???? Or for heaven's sake, what about Brienne or Jaime? Or Charles Dance? Or even Lena Headley? All of which were more interesting than Michelle Dockery's performance on Downton.
ganked from everyone.
If you see a poem today...post one..
Counting Small-boned Bodies
Let's count the bodies over again.
If we could only make the bodies smaller
The size of skulls
We could make a whole plain white with skulls in the moonlight!
If we could only make the bodies smaller
Maybe we could get
A whole year's kill in front of us on a desk!
If we could only make the bodies smaller
We could fit
A body into a finger-ring for a keepsake forever.
By Robert Bly
I don't know if I like the above poem, seems rather morbid actually. But it also fits my mood. I'm admittedly picky when it comes to poetry. Most poetry seems to be insanely self-indulgent (ie. about love lost or gained, much like the stereotypical country western songs and pop tunes) or about how quaint that flower or leaf looks (which always reminded me of a still life painting.)
Sweaty day. Oven. Little air. Can barely breath out in it. Sweated on the way home.
Stayed late at work...desperate to get out a contract. Took all day long. I'm so behind.
I can't see my desk. Yet, I weirdly enjoy being busy. So much better than the alternative.
I would not survive in a routine job, even if it aids in creative thought.
In other news? The emmy's were announced today. Not that surprised. Am a wee bit disappointed. Is it just me or is Downton Abbey grossly overrated? It's not bad, but I wouldn't have nominated it over the Good Wife, Justified, or Orphan Black. I found Downton to be a bit silly and overwrought. I also wish there could be rule - you can only be nominated five times, after that - it's someone else's turn. Plus, Emilia Clark as best supporting over Maisie Williams or the woman who played Catelynn???? Or for heaven's sake, what about Brienne or Jaime? Or Charles Dance? Or even Lena Headley? All of which were more interesting than Michelle Dockery's performance on Downton.