Jack Kerouac haiku

I didn't know Jack Kerouac wrote haiku. [Updated 03/25/2004 - two links removed, one added.]

Posted by Chad Lundgren on Tuesday, May 6, 2003 (Link)

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Poetry for Book Lovers

I love this poem, which starts with:

"Let's meet tonight between the covers
to thumb each other's spines
like true book lovers"

and goes on from there. Implying is much sexier than saying. Here's another poem [Link updated 09/18/2003 --Chad Lundgren] that subtly implies using the whole "food is love" idea by the same author, Jenny Lewis.

And last but certainly not least, enjoy some of Theodore Roethke's insanely great poetry.

Posted by Chad Lundgren on Saturday, November 30, 2002 (Link)

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A Sonnet

I was having problems finishing, what with the sonnet form and the iambic pentameter, so I bought a Seattle Dark Chocolate bar (warning: this site is annoying, featuring Mystery Meat Navigation on the product page) for a reward when I finished.


The obscene bleat of sirens impels dread--
The unthinking, crumpling steel and glass
Embracing anguish like a lover's head;
Rubberneckers take a look and pass.

A suffocating brain unravels a life;
A fragile sparking of memories flickers, ends.
Despite the cold, invading surgeon's knife,
A cancer's growth confirms entropic trends.

Minutia drinks up time, if not there's want:
Enslaved by need for sex, approval lust,
By chocolate's dark perpetual haunt.
But grease and drink are best; in lard we trust;
So praise the Double Bacon Frito®™ Pie,
And guzzle libations for the god of "I".

Posted by Chad Lundgren on Thursday, November 21, 2002 (Link)

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A haiku

Discipline your eyes.
Don't let them wander on me,
Make me feel like that.

Posted by Chad Lundgren on Wednesday, September 25, 2002 (Link)

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Plastic Plant Sundays

Not only I am writing more rhymed poetry, I'm getting into structure as well. This one, a poem I mentioned a long time ago, is a villanelle.

Plastic Plant Sundays

The blankness of the booth accuses me,
The other seat stares at me silently.

The blankness of the booth accuses me,
I stare at the plastic plant on the wall,
The other seat stares at me silently.

Ah, weekend sex for my mendacity—
I was more plastic than her plants that fall.
The blankness of the booth accuses me.

Sharing Sunday breakfast banality—
Later one Sunday, dish washing tears fall.
The other seat stares at me silently.

A young girl sits one booth over from me,
Her boyfriend-to-be toward the wall.
The blankness of the booth accuses me.

As I scribble, my eyes dart glancingly—
Her flushed cheeks silently take me in thrall.
The other seat stares at me silently.

She talks of "unused sexual energy".
Just like a woman—three words and you're small.
The blankness of the booth accuses me,
The other seat stares at me silently.

Posted by Chad Lundgren on Monday, September 23, 2002 (Link)

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Untitled poem

Ah, the lies her hands told,
Whispering down silken traces.
Tangled muscle knots flowed,
Unraveled by haptic graces.

Goddess touching me real—
But only in my touch-struck eyes.
So I must ignore feel,
And hands-on apostasize*.

*The way I've always said and spelled apostatize.

Posted by Chad Lundgren on Friday, July 26, 2002 (Link)

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2 Poems

I've noticed many poems are verbal calisthenics for the reader, almost the opposite of usability. This is good. Here's one I wrote:

Entropic whirlwinds
Helicopter around you,
Swirling your dreadlocked hair.
You dance with night
And I am afraid.

I'v finished a poem using a form called the villanelle [Link updated 03/12/2004] which I will post when I reconnect my computer at home, having just moved. Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Gentle into That Good Night" is the most famous example of a villanelle. I decided moving to rhyming for most poems wasn't enough, I wanted to use actual poetic forms. It turns out this makes a poem take exponentially longer to write.

I find it interesting how exposed posting poetry makes me feel, as opposed to all the other posts. Here's another one:

Tone deaf to the music of touch,
Color blind to the hues of speech.
Redolent of the copper clutch
Of the modem's shuddery screech.

The first line dropped into my head in the middle of a conversation. The other three took longer. I've never had a whole poem show up: 2 lines is the longest.

As always, comments welcome.

Posted by Chad Lundgren on Thursday, July 18, 2002 (Link)

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Think "Pupil"

The dance of her eyes,
Widening and narrowing;
The void in the prize
Riveting and harrowing.

Posted by Chad Lundgren on Monday, May 13, 2002 (Link)

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