internet poetry page 3
page 1
page 2
Hello friends, Samm Bennett here. Like many folks these days, I spend a lot of time on the internet. I'm active at a site called Metafilter, and at Facebook and Flickr, where over the past few years I've posted a fair amount of poetry and songs in threads at those sites: stuff that I've usually written quickly and at the spur of the moment, specifically referring to some link or topic of discussion in some thread. Just for fun, mainly, but I also find it kinda keeps my writing muscles in shape: a little practice here and there, you know. Compiled here are some of these little bits of verse. Most of it is lightweight, often silly. Like I said, it's just for fun.
Each poem here is preceded by a bit of background context. In many cases, the poems were sparked by a quote from a linked article or video, or a comment made by someone in a thread, and I've included those quotes or paraphrasing where necessary.
page 1
page 2
Hello friends, Samm Bennett here. Like many folks these days, I spend a lot of time on the internet. I'm active at a site called Metafilter, and at Facebook and Flickr, where over the past few years I've posted a fair amount of poetry and songs in threads at those sites: stuff that I've usually written quickly and at the spur of the moment, specifically referring to some link or topic of discussion in some thread. Just for fun, mainly, but I also find it kinda keeps my writing muscles in shape: a little practice here and there, you know. Compiled here are some of these little bits of verse. Most of it is lightweight, often silly. Like I said, it's just for fun.
Each poem here is preceded by a bit of background context. In many cases, the poems were sparked by a quote from a linked article or video, or a comment made by someone in a thread, and I've included those quotes or paraphrasing where necessary.
A Man and his Chicken
This photo was posted to the PLONSKY group at Facebook, inspiring this poem:
a man and his chicken
they stand near a wall
from the light, and his garments
looks like early Fall
and that ain't no *Spring* chicken
that bird ain't so young
that chicken's for dinner
its neck will be wrung
so then, one last photo
of the marked-for-death bird
cause mom's gonna fry it
well, that's what I heard
a man and his chicken
they stand near a wall
from the light, and his garments
looks like early Fall
and that ain't no *Spring* chicken
that bird ain't so young
that chicken's for dinner
its neck will be wrung
so then, one last photo
of the marked-for-death bird
cause mom's gonna fry it
well, that's what I heard
|
I Told Her I Was TwentyA friend of mine on Facebook wrote about how he had started telling young people (20-somethings) his age, after years of not doing so. A discussion ensued in the thread about age and perceptions of people based on their age. It inspired this poem:
I told her I was twenty she said "that's too young for me" so I said, "OK, here's the truth, I'm really thirty three" she said "nah, still not interested, 40-somethings are my style" I said "OK, this time, for real, I'm forty eight! no child!" says she, "haha! i lied to you, it's men in their fifties I need" says I, "alright, babe I'll come clean, I'm fifty five, indeed!" she said "well now, that's what I like, wanna REALLY get to know me? then let me ask you one more thing: got a bank book you can show me?" I pulled mine out, and showed her sixty bucks I had within she walked away without a word never saw that girl again |
Twenty Seconds Ago
|
A friend on Facebook posted this picture, with only this comment to accompany it: "20 seconds ago".
Which inspired this... twenty seconds ago, in the distance a mountain rose out of the mist twenty years ago I met a woman we talked for awhile, then we kissed she told me she lived near the ocean would've followed her if I'd known how but this mountain reminds me how lonely I am and how time is my enemy now |
I Read to my Deer
The curious old photo above was posted to the Plonsky group at Facebook…
i read to my deer
as we lie on the bed
the dog listens too
they are both quite well read
the dog prefers mysteries
the deer likes non-fiction
and for me, well, the reading's
improving my diction
so let me suggest to you too,
if I may:
read a book to your dog and your deer
every day!
i read to my deer
as we lie on the bed
the dog listens too
they are both quite well read
the dog prefers mysteries
the deer likes non-fiction
and for me, well, the reading's
improving my diction
so let me suggest to you too,
if I may:
read a book to your dog and your deer
every day!
Someone made a cake
I'm a member of a Birmingham, Alabama group at Facebook (it's my hometown) and this picture of a cake, in the shape of the grand old B'ham hotel The Tutwiler, appeared there. Of course it inspired this silly little ditty...
|
someone made a cake
in the shape of a hotel they did it very nicely they did it very well but now I'm getting hungry so slice me off a door a coupla top floor windows and the hotel ballroom floor I'd also like some sidewalk and that stairway, if you please and a portion of the entry are those columns Viennese? oh, and gimme a coupla streetlamps they look tasty, yes they do I'll be bigger than a hotel by the time that I am through! |
|
There's a city called "A" in Sweden
This curious picture showed up at the PLONSKY group on Facebook, and inspired this ditty: There's a city called "A" in Sweden where the pigs eat from little dog bowls there's a city called "Q" in Montana where the pigs all eat cinnamon rolls there's a city called "R" in Bermuda where the pigs eat whatever's around and a city called "Z" in Korea where there ain't no more pigs to be found |
The sun is happy
There is a wonderful Facebook group called Plonsky, and group members upload various
old images there on a daily basis.
One Plonskyite posted the image to the left,
which inspired this lttle poem...
the sun is happy
the moon is sad
the road's undecided
the mountain is glad
the trees are dead certain
the clouds just don't care
and the sky is pretending
to be everywhere
There is a wonderful Facebook group called Plonsky, and group members upload various
old images there on a daily basis.
One Plonskyite posted the image to the left,
which inspired this lttle poem...
the sun is happy
the moon is sad
the road's undecided
the mountain is glad
the trees are dead certain
the clouds just don't care
and the sky is pretending
to be everywhere
Funtown's up in smoke
My Facebook friend Ken Freedman posted this rather poignant photo, which inspired this little poem, which
I posted in the Facebook thread. I should also note that I posted the poem in the comments section of an
ABC NEWS article covering the news event, but it was deleted. Haha!
I posted in the Facebook thread. I should also note that I posted the poem in the comments section of an
ABC NEWS article covering the news event, but it was deleted. Haha!
Funtown's up in smoke
there'll be no fun no more
and hey, this ain't no joke
I'm saddened to the core
Funtown's all ablaze
and friend, I don't know how
through all this smoke and haze
we'll ever have fun now
there'll be no fun no more
and hey, this ain't no joke
I'm saddened to the core
Funtown's all ablaze
and friend, I don't know how
through all this smoke and haze
we'll ever have fun now
Our evenings in London weren't dull
This curious picture showed up at the always-entertaining Plonsky group at Facebook.
The picture inspired this silly little ditty:
Our evenings in London weren't dull
T'was a lady who'd dance with a skull
She'd spin round with a bone in her hand
T'was delightful for every young man
We'd sit on the coffins and gaze
Her lithe beauty would dazzle and daze
We thought "t'will it be George or Fred?
To take her and her skull home to bed?"
This curious picture showed up at the always-entertaining Plonsky group at Facebook.
The picture inspired this silly little ditty:
Our evenings in London weren't dull
T'was a lady who'd dance with a skull
She'd spin round with a bone in her hand
T'was delightful for every young man
We'd sit on the coffins and gaze
Her lithe beauty would dazzle and daze
We thought "t'will it be George or Fred?
To take her and her skull home to bed?"
Egg Salad Sandwich Boat
Here's another photo that showed up at the Plonsky Facebook group, for which this was penned...
egg salad sandwich boat
no way that'll EVER float
that bun gonna get all wet
take fifteen seconds I bet
gonna sink just like a rock
won't make it back to dock
and yep, just like I thunk
egg salad sandwich sunk
Here's another photo that showed up at the Plonsky Facebook group, for which this was penned...
egg salad sandwich boat
no way that'll EVER float
that bun gonna get all wet
take fifteen seconds I bet
gonna sink just like a rock
won't make it back to dock
and yep, just like I thunk
egg salad sandwich sunk
My data was sold
A friend on Facebook posted a link to a site
that supposedly lets you know how much money Facebook is making off your personal data. It inspired this little poem:
my data was sold
i saw nary a dime
from all of my posts
and I post all the time
how come they don't pay me?
you see what I mean?
I'm an EARNER you pricks!
I'm a damn cash MACHINE!
A friend on Facebook posted a link to a site
that supposedly lets you know how much money Facebook is making off your personal data. It inspired this little poem:
my data was sold
i saw nary a dime
from all of my posts
and I post all the time
how come they don't pay me?
you see what I mean?
I'm an EARNER you pricks!
I'm a damn cash MACHINE!
When the jester jumps over the fish
Saw this image posted at the Facebook group Plonsky. It inspired these lines:
when the jester jumps over the fish
then the king will enjoy a fine dish
and the queen will be granted her wish
when the jester jumps over the fish
but wait! if the jester is nude
then it means the king will have no food
and the queen will attain a foul mood
if the fish-jumping jester is nude
Saw this image posted at the Facebook group Plonsky. It inspired these lines:
when the jester jumps over the fish
then the king will enjoy a fine dish
and the queen will be granted her wish
when the jester jumps over the fish
but wait! if the jester is nude
then it means the king will have no food
and the queen will attain a foul mood
if the fish-jumping jester is nude
|
I Took Off My Mask
Here's another image that was posted to the Plonsky FB page and inspired this poem: i took off my mask after midnight but behind it was just the same face folks at the party were whispering: "was there a difference? no trace!" then I took off my real face to find that it too, oh!, was only a mask it kept going like that, just face after face, how many times? well, since you ask... I lost count 'round four thousand and thirty but the masks, they just keep coming off I'm removing them constantly, all day and night only stopping to sneeze or to cough and the faces, well, they're never different no my friend, they are always the same but one thing that's happened which seems rather odd well, you see, I've forgotten my name. |
|
|
I was riding on the Cyclone My friend Kim Rancourt, who I affectionately refer to as Mr. Coney Island, posted to Facebook this photo of the roller coaster (the Cyclone) at Coney Island, with reflections. This poem resulted... I was riding on the Cyclone when we hit a chandelier the kid up in the front car said "hey, people, have no fear! It happens all the time, we'll hit rats and pigeons, too!" and I'm here right now to tell you, everything he said was true |
|
Ain't no fun in Golgotha
Saw this photo added to the Plonsky group at Facebook, and this just poured outta me...
Saw this photo added to the Plonsky group at Facebook, and this just poured outta me...
ain't no fun in Golgotha
just ain't no fun no more
Jesus ain't been on that cross
since 1964
oh, what great fun it used to be
to crucify him there
but since they closed Golgotha down
ain't seen Christ round nowhere
I s'pose he got a little tired
of dying every day
even the Lord of Lords, I guess
can't spend his time that way
I heard he moved to Cleveland
got a good job, found a wife
I bet he likes it better
than his old Golgotha life
just ain't no fun no more
Jesus ain't been on that cross
since 1964
oh, what great fun it used to be
to crucify him there
but since they closed Golgotha down
ain't seen Christ round nowhere
I s'pose he got a little tired
of dying every day
even the Lord of Lords, I guess
can't spend his time that way
I heard he moved to Cleveland
got a good job, found a wife
I bet he likes it better
than his old Golgotha life
He Had a Tree
Growing Out of His Head
Another wonderful old photo posted to the Plonsky group at Facebook inspired this one...
he had a tree growing out of his head
he used to say "it's a hat" instead
but it was plain as the nose on your face
you could tell when he walked in the place
that tree would rub up against the ceiling
for him it must've been a real weird feeling
well anyway, he's long since dead
but he had a tree growing out of his head
there used to be birds nesting up there
on occasion they'd drop turds in his hair
he used to curse 'em all night and all day
every robin and finch, and blue jay
But there were times when he had it made
in the summer he had real good shade
and in the fall, when the leaves turned red
he liked the tree growing out of his head
I've got a hat shaped just like a boat!
Another gem from the Plonsky group! Here's my poetic accompaniment..
i've got a hat shaped just like a boat!
if i fall in the water? no problem, i'll float!
while you other folks fall in the water and drown,
my boat hat will sail me back safely to town!
Another gem from the Plonsky group! Here's my poetic accompaniment..
i've got a hat shaped just like a boat!
if i fall in the water? no problem, i'll float!
while you other folks fall in the water and drown,
my boat hat will sail me back safely to town!
|
Sad music makes you happy
Here's a little cartoon image that showed up in the Plonsky group at FB, for which I spun these lines... sad music makes you happy happy music makes you sad pretty music makes you ugly good music makes you bad sleepy music wakes you up dark sounds will make you light crazy music makes you sane wrong music makes you right |
Drumming down
the highway
a drummer friend on Facebook
posted this picture. Wrote this little
bit immediately...
drumming down the highway
the beat goes on and on
you'll hear perhaps a bar or two
but then i'll soon be gone
to hear the groove entirely
we'd have to ride together
you'd hear my funky highway beats
through all terrains and weather
i'd play a waltz 'cross Texas
Tex-Mex in Mexico
i'd turn the beat around
in Missisippi, Kokomo
when we hit the Georgia line
i'd play a shuffle, not too fast
then i'd play all the way to San Jose
and man, i'd make it last
i'd drum all cross the nation
layin' down a funky groove
i'd get on down the road
me and my drums, man we would MOVE
the highway
a drummer friend on Facebook
posted this picture. Wrote this little
bit immediately...
drumming down the highway
the beat goes on and on
you'll hear perhaps a bar or two
but then i'll soon be gone
to hear the groove entirely
we'd have to ride together
you'd hear my funky highway beats
through all terrains and weather
i'd play a waltz 'cross Texas
Tex-Mex in Mexico
i'd turn the beat around
in Missisippi, Kokomo
when we hit the Georgia line
i'd play a shuffle, not too fast
then i'd play all the way to San Jose
and man, i'd make it last
i'd drum all cross the nation
layin' down a funky groove
i'd get on down the road
me and my drums, man we would MOVE
My bug carries me in a basket
Saw this curious little gem uploaded, yes, once again, to the Plonsky group at Facebook. Here's what it inspired:
my bug carries me in a basket
i don't mean no tisket or tasket
my bug will tip his hat at you
i'll wave my little flowers, too
he carries me from town to town
from morning til the sun goes down
so don't be surprised when you see
my bug and my basket and me
in a room of plaid
Posted to the Facebook Plonsky group, this one inspired this but of plaid poetry...
best time I ever had
in a room, in a room of plaid
no stripes or paisley or polka dots
just plaid, plaid, plaid
i'll tell it to my mama
i'll tell it to my dad
the best time, people, that i ever had
was in a room, in a room of plaid
Santa's Head is Dangling
Saw this posted to Facebook, and the caption there indicated that this was shot in Kalamazoo, Michigan. It inspired this heartwarming little Christmas poem:
Santa's head is dangling
high above Kalamazoo
you'd best watch out if you come to town
or your head might be dangling here, too
we'll chop off your head and we'll hang it on high
yes friend, we're not lying, it's true
you'd best watch your step, we did it to Santa
and mister, we'll do it to you
Santa's head is dangling
high above Kalamazoo
you'd best watch out if you come to town
or your head might be dangling here, too
we'll chop off your head and we'll hang it on high
yes friend, we're not lying, it's true
you'd best watch your step, we did it to Santa
and mister, we'll do it to you
I'm baffled
by your mind
Ex-Lounge Lizards bandleader and actor John Lurie is, for those who don't know it, these days a prolific painter. He often posts his wonderful paintings to his Facebook page, John Lurie Art. Here's a typically endearing piece he posted, to which he added the following text:
"The Monk loved his garden. Though sometimes he hated it." Someone then posted, in the thread, the following comment: "Your mind, I'm baffled by your mind." The comment, and the painting, inspired this poem:
by your mind
Ex-Lounge Lizards bandleader and actor John Lurie is, for those who don't know it, these days a prolific painter. He often posts his wonderful paintings to his Facebook page, John Lurie Art. Here's a typically endearing piece he posted, to which he added the following text:
"The Monk loved his garden. Though sometimes he hated it." Someone then posted, in the thread, the following comment: "Your mind, I'm baffled by your mind." The comment, and the painting, inspired this poem:
i'm baffled by your mind
i'm baffled by the wind
i'm baffled by the garden
that a monk will daily tend
of course he loves it sometimes
but sometimes not so much
the leaves and vines and flowers
will sometimes miss his touch
the monk is sometimes holy
at other times profane
gives water to the thirsty roots
sometimes just waits for rain
the monk is only human
and he's not always kind
and you don't understand this?
I'm baffled by your mind
i'm baffled by the wind
i'm baffled by the garden
that a monk will daily tend
of course he loves it sometimes
but sometimes not so much
the leaves and vines and flowers
will sometimes miss his touch
the monk is sometimes holy
at other times profane
gives water to the thirsty roots
sometimes just waits for rain
the monk is only human
and he's not always kind
and you don't understand this?
I'm baffled by your mind
This curious painting appeared in the Plonsky group at Facebook...
Burn Your Candle
and Smoke Your Nose
burn your candle and smoke your nose
stay away from average Joes
learn which way the north wind blows
burn your candle and smoke your nose
Burn Your Candle
and Smoke Your Nose
burn your candle and smoke your nose
stay away from average Joes
learn which way the north wind blows
burn your candle and smoke your nose
|
A news item, reporting the damage to an ancient Grecian urn containing the ashes of Sigmund Freud (which I saw linked to at Facebook), inspired this silly little poem, which I hope you'll enjoy.
They've Dropped ol' Sigmund's Urn they've dropped ol' Sigmund's urn upon the floor, that's where it shattered and as you might've guessed, ol' Sigmund's ashes were all scattered it was a thief, who tried to steal the urn but then he tripped guess you'd call it Freudian... through clumsy hands Freud's ashes slipped |
|
The Umbrella Shook Hands with the Hat
This very mysterious old illustration showed up at the PLONSKY group on Facebook, and inspired this poem:
the umbrella shook hands with the hat
cause umbrellas are friendly like that
hat removed glove as he should
and the whole thing went off rather good
rather "well" is of course more correct
and for grammar I *should* show respect
but first and foremost I should rhyme
and indeed, I do that all the time
now, as for the brolly and hat...
they became instant friends, just like that!
and those odd little faces all grinning?
hat and brolly just left 'em there spinning.
A Man With a Hand Where His Head Oughtta Be (image from Plonsky)
a man with a hand where his head oughtta be
stepped up, and then started talking to me
he spoke in sign language, of course, and said he:
"I have a hand where my head oughtta be"
stepped up, and then started talking to me
he spoke in sign language, of course, and said he:
"I have a hand where my head oughtta be"