a poem

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Erik Kain

Erik writes about video games at Forbes and politics at Mother Jones. He's the contributor of The League though he hasn't written much here lately. He can be found occasionally composing 140 character cultural analysis on Twitter.

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7 Responses

  1. Not really — this is a Ghazal:

    Ghazal by Gene Doty

    The silver maple’s new green holds weariness:
    under the redbud, in clean dirt, only weariness.

    Closing the window against thunder-laden air,
    I see through the screen a passerby’s weariness.

    Qoheleth in his bitter book complains against the wind
    and finds in all that’s seen or heard endless weariness.

    Come, wife, and settle your head on my shoulder;
    on the pillows we lean and seek to dispell our weariness.

    Gino, why did you write these tiresome lines?
    Don’t you know that verses only mean weariness?

    Plus there is not radif, or refrain, and the lines are not of similar length or meter. It would be straining to call them couplets.Report

  2. This is a mini-Ghazal (not)

    Princes, no longer born, have no god
    or gold, or blood to mask a common fault,

    They preen, posture, self-proclaim, but fall —
    they have to – princes no longer born.Report

  3. Avatar E.D. Kain says:

    Very true, Mike. Like I said – very rusty. Thanks!Report

  4. Avatar Jaybird says:

    to write a poem
    and have it contain
    every phrase
    every drop of blood
    every midichlorian
    and then to see one’s poem
    categorized
    the poet
    dies
    inside
    like porkins
    in the trenchReport

  5. Avatar E.D. Kain says:

    Not true, jaybird. Not when discussing forms. If you write in form than you are already accepting the categorization ahead of time. If I write a Sonnet or a Villanelle how can I die inside when someone recognizes it as such?Report

    • Avatar Jaybird in reply to E.D. Kain says:

      I dunno, I read that (at Andrew’s first) and I thought, intellectually, how over the top and sentimental it was… while, inside, I felt fingers to my lips telling me to hush hush.Report

  6. Avatar Stjepan says:

    In the heart of my pain
    and on the lips are
    from your poljupca
    table, give me the last
    farewell, O Ana O Ana heart
    my days

    I still dream your character
    your hair and in my breast
    hands, O Ana O Ana, heart
    my day …Report

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