Monday, December 1, 2008

Bad Poetry

It's easy to find awful poetry books.  It's hard to find poetry books so bad they make your jaw drop as you turn each page.  When I saw Nor All Your Wit in a box, I wondered if it was bound in leather. A quick touch revealed its soul - padded naugahyde in harvest gold.  Published in 1973, it brings together an array of poetry that will take you on an emotional journey from which you will not soon recover.

You will "enter Hell" when you read, on page 11, Laura L. Scott's tribute to her canine friend, Mr. Minsky And I:


And be prepared to be slapped in the face when you turn to page 12 and walk with Gene Marshall down the banks of a canal in Napoli and insult a woman you mistake for a street whore:


Compare and contrast the stylings of George Cook and W. Blaine Wheeler as they face off with the simpleton's ode to boredom in A Country Boy versus the Mensa-tastic pseudoepigraphically masturbatory Wrecked Concerns:



Let Hermenegildo Salinas take your heart on a journey where only love can go, then feel the sting as Niles Sorensen harpoons your heart with cold despair on the same page:


There's advice for parents...

...and a contribution to the literature of Father's Day:



I'll leave you with the comforting words of two of the greatest philosphers/poets known to mankind - Persian, Omar Khayyam, and brace-face, Marsha Elaine Kash:


4 comments:

Anonymous said...

You Crack Me Up by Angie Rockow

You crack me up
You make me laugh
I thought my sides would split in half.

Robert Frost said...

I likes them pages you took

from that funky orange leathery book.

Anonymous said...

Inch by inch,
Life's a cinch.

Yard by yard,
Life is hard.

Anonymous said...

I have turned my ear from the bleat of this troublemaking book of poems.