Tag Archives: fear

“Goldfinch”

a sonnet by Paul Burgess

American Goldfinch

Upon reflection it would make no sense,
But when I saw you feeding near the tree,
I nearly ran to close the open fence
Though knowing that to come and go you’re free.

Invading space around my ribs and heart,
The panic rested only when I paused
And knew that Master Fear had shown his art
Replete with terrors nothing real has caused.

My heart becoming calmer in my chest,
I thought, “How very odd, insane, absurd
For fears about my dog to manifest
As fears about that little garden bird.”

What magic matches anxious minds for tricks?
What else can make a snake of harmless sticks?

 

“Pills: a Modern Fable”

by Paul Burgess […a poem on the tendency to treat symptoms rather can causes and to escape pain rather than deal with it]

One day while walking through the nearby hills,
I came across a lady selling pills.
She said to take her tablets twice a day,
And troubles would all start to melt away.
The pills provided such a soaring high
That I returned to buy a new supply.
But where she’d been I heard no human sound,
And nothing of that lady was there found.
Along with waves of troubles flooding back,
I count among my woes those pills I lack.

 

“A Fan and a Critic: A Dialogue in Terza Rima” by Paul Burgess

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_assignment/writing-101-day-seven/

“The boy’s destined for great renown.”
“His joking tone will not suffice.
He’s less a poet, more a clown.”

         “His poetry’s use of forms is nice…”
         “Those iambs, anapests, and rhymes?
           Those methods from the Age of Ice?

             His work is far behind the times.
             Who would not vomit, cringe, and jeer
             If shown his literary crimes?

“His poems’ meanings are always clear…”
“What fouler crime could one commit?
               To write’s to be a drunken seer.”

There end the words of Pride and Fear.

5 Limericks a Day [to Keep the Dr. Away] By Paul O’Burgess (Entry12)

“Serious Content ‘Masked’ by Inane Form”

I visited an eerie old place
Where men all had masks on their face.
They appeared to smile,
But the masks did beguile
By concealing their owners’ disgrace.

“Of Men and Chicken” [An Innocent Limerick about a ‘Cocky’ Man;)]
A man who resides by the docks
Has become so enamored of cocks
That he’s tossed into fens
All his chicks and his hens
To ensure he’ll be alone with the cocks.

“Headhunter-new genre:Horror Limerick!”

I met once a man from the Alps
Who kept a collection of scalps.
Afraid as I fled,
I shielded my head
And escaped from that man of the Alps.

“A Large and Furry Cat”

The was once a girl with a cat
That was so incredibly fat
That, when it would purr,
Its jiggling fur
Would take up the whole of her flat

“Karl Marx Writes a Limerick”
There’s a man whose estate so immense
Is protected by guards and a fence,
Which ensure that the poor
Will not come to his door
To request that he spare a few cents.

 

5 Limericks a Day (to Keep the Dr. Away)–by Paul O’Burgess (Day 9)

“Possession”

There was once a lad from Hawaii
Who believed in a man in the sky.
“He’s likely possessed
By Satan,” they guessed,
And afraid they became of that guy.

“Groundbreaking Anthropology”

The men from a faraway land
By custom will shake no one’s hand.
When people they greet,
They offer their feet
To be shaken instead of a hand.

“A Peruvian Visits the Cobbler’s Shop”

There was an old man from Peru
Who so deeply desired a screw.
So, he went to the store
And purchased the score
That he’d needed to mend his worn shoe.

“Pity the Aging Pimp”

I know well a graying old pimp
Who’s beginning to walk with a limp.
He’s becoming too lame
To keep at the game.
How I pity that graying old pimp!

“An Odd Drought”

There was once an old person from Spain
Who insisted on drinking the rain.
He deprived all the crops
By imbibing the drops
That inane old person from Spain.

“On the Relation of Pleasant Past Memories to the Present and Future”–The Rambling Prose of Paul Burgess [Entry 2]

“On the Relation of Pleasant Past Memories to Present and Future”
1st Version: Clinging to a ‘better’ past state fills the present with unsatisfied desire that we experience as suffering; the present becomes the time in which we mourn the passing of a better time and dream of a future in which that ‘better state’, experienced in the past, will be re-attained. [Ghosts of past joy become present misery that will lead to future misery because one will continually experience the present as the time in which better days have passed and better days are hoped for. The present is transformed into memory-induced suffering. People spend much of the present mourning that which has passed and that which might not come; anxieties ruining the “now” often relate to obsessive desire to recover past joy and fear that such recovery will not be achieved. ]* As long as we experience the present in this way, we condemn ourselves to lives made of present moments in which we mourn the past and anticipate the future.

I think I could compress everything above into the following two sentences:

2nd version: Clinging to a ‘better’ past state fills the present with unsatisfied desire that we experience as suffering; the present becomes the time in which we mourn the passing of a better time and dream of a future in which that ‘better state’, experienced in the past, will be re-attained. As long as we experience the present in this way, we condemn ourselves to lives made of present moments in which we mourn the past and anticipate the future.

I would appreciate constructive feedback regarding the comparative effectiveness of the two versions. Believing that concision is the best policy, I prefer the second version.

“Britney Spears”–a Clerihew by Paul Burgess

As William Baer notes, a clerihew “consists of two couplets (aabb) where the first line of the poem is generally the name of a famous person; the second line is some kind of outrageous predicate; and the final two lines often call up some historical fact or fantasy about the subject” (Writing Metrical Poetry 186).

Here is a sample from Edward Clerihew Bentley, the form’s inventor: “George the Third/Ought never to have occurred./One can only wonder/At so grotesque a blunder.”

The following clerihew is the first one I have attempted to write:

To hear the voice of Britney Spears

Brought to life my darkest fears

Because her rise I knew would bring

A wave of stars who couldn’t sing.