The story of an average guy who keeps a journal of his poetry intended to celebrate the beauty around him. Before long, though, his journal is about his zombie "life"--told in haiku. I'm using some examples to teach my students about haiku. And all I have to do to get their undivided attention is to say, "Oh, this next one is gross. Cover your ears if that will make you uncomfortable." Who says poetry has to be about rainbows and butterflies?
A few of my favorites:
little old ladies
speed away in their wheelchairs,
frightened meals on wheels.
Biting into heads
is much harder than it looks.
His skull is feisty.
I lap around blocks.
The city, an empty plate,
has been licked clean.
Her tongue can't form words,
although it's still wiggling
when it's in my hand.
I need to slow down.
It's hard, when eating fingers,
to tell whose hand's whose.
Zombie fans will eat this one up.
The War On Tomatoes
-
*The war on drugs is a joke. We spend $40 billion a year, and the proof
that it's a failure is that any kid can get almost any drug they want in
any c...
3 weeks ago
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment