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  Eloquence is heard. Poetry is overheard. — John Stuart Mill

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  Cop Couplets: Maine officers create poetry calendar
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Google sets plans to sell E-books

Critics: Google book deal a privacy, monopoly disaster

Google Wave combines hybrid of instant messaging, e-mail, blogging and wiki technology all in one

Is ’slam’ in danger of going soft?

Forbes Magazine on making a living as a poet

A Moment Like No Other
 
Sitting at ringside for the next big boxing event just won’t be the same.
This is truly our lucky day for we are here to live it. This is a moment that is like no other. We traveled by bus from Brooklyn, New York; “in terms of its historic magnitude,” we waited a lifetime for a moment like this.
 
This was very obviously no Colgate moment. More a Kodak moment for their would be no repeat, in other words. We owe all of them for this moment. … that are part of their lives and no big deal, For young blacks and other, to those rare politicians like Lyndon B, you could hear, where these and others were going
 
His diploma in one hand, his classmates embedded in his heart, the beauty and inspiration of a reunion like no other: It was a moment in time … As the hour drew near for Barack Obama to be sworn in as this nation’s 44th president, it’s impossible not to suffer from a bit of whiplash trying to capture the meaning of this moment that would be like no other.
 
Donna in Napoleon, Ohio (search phrase: “A Moment Like No Other”)

Ramblings of a Geek Hacking for Christ

Condomania lives.
Couples pack their separate cars.
Mobile Manor is the next trailer park casualty.

Sonny James, I wish it hadn’t happened.

Remember the man caught in a vacuum
sex act that got him 90 days in prison?
Maybe he came back under a different name.
Blessed are those who go in circles.
I’m tired of my room smelling like Bengay.
I’m tired of watching nipples that aren’t mine.

I am the great broken pecker.
I used to believe
in an omnipresent Trotsky force,
and laugh at internet dating, flyfishing,
Woody Allen’s failed romantic comedies.
I used to hum along to
Sinatra covers in our elevators,
and watch sportspub brawls.

Last week the Knicks proved
there is no such thing as a rebuilding year.

Maybe I’ll turn Bedouin,
travel to the outskirts of the Haraldskær marsh,
watch the sky for comet Lulin,
and the mystery of a shrinking violet zodiac.

-Chad in Virginia Beach (search phrase “i wish i hadn’t”)

The Last Time the Cat Meowed

         The last time the cat meowed, he meowed so much that my husband passed away! My companion, my 16 year old cat, meowed at dawn for MONTHS afterwards. In the last few months though, he has begun howling like a banshee instead. He hasn’t done it all the time, as it started last year after he had to go to the vet for some issues. Since then, he has meowed a little for no reason. Now, since the weather is nice, he jumps from our fence and creeps into the woods. “Maybe you shouldn’t come around here anymore!” he meows sternly to the other cats that come around. He repeats his meow, each time putting extra feeling into it. “The funniest thing happened last night.” My neighbor told me yesterday. “I found out there is no way to stop a cat from meowing.”

-Abby in Florida (search phrase “the last time the cat meowed”)

Jellyfish Clouds

Rare cirrostratus galactic molecular clouds known
as Altocumulus Castellanus with trailing Virga
have caused a sensation after being spotted

for the first time in a decade.
The sea and the sky are now complete.
I’m seeing the bottom part of a low cloud

interacting with a very different air layer just
below it. The sky has been ugly all day, plagued
with abnormal shaped jellyfish clouds floating around.

This place has been here for years, I remember
some time ago…

[photographed on Wednesday evening 20 May 2009]

Apparently these are not unique.
Stunned weather-watchers flash, nude.
We are in the middle of the strait separating

the islands of Flores and Knox County, Ohio.
It finally moved towards the bank of clouds
above Onezskoe Lake, burned a red hole

in the shining jellyfish west of Petrosavodsk.
There is land above the wing now.
And though we chased the sun at 516 mph,

It got to the horizon first.

-Michael J. Alfaro is publisher and editor of Silenced Press.  (search phrase “jellyfish clouds”)

Hello? I’m Talking To You

I still don’t have a bloody clue
How us lefties know and use
The seven dirty words-
Better than the wing nuts-
For his lovely eulogy.
So much of it seemed so right,
Felt so comfortable.

A good day for writing;
There is no electricity.
I don’t know what she
Could ever do to top
That one; she’d
Probably have to behead
A row of puppies with a
Single swipe of her
Extra-long pinky nail.

Wound up with a charming
Leftist- Be honest, Be
Pragmatic, But show
Courage and Confidence!
(A little warm-
Can you cool down?)
Adored and refined- danger
of putting too positive
A spin on politics.

Allow me to honestly tell you
That facts are facts;
Don’t sugarcoat it, because
You’ll eat that too.
Make it seem undesirable,
Or like a punishment-
Give it to me fresh.
Poor antifascist doesn’t know
what a fascist is!

How did you really feel?
He hit the ceiling hard,
And I don’t think he wants
Any of that ever again-
Another weird author
At breaking point.
Enough; don’t try.
This is called making
Your point loud
And clear.

-Janet in Richmond (search phrase “don’t sugar coat it”)

“But one corner of the publishing world has its own strange economy. Poets and those who publish them are used to earning next to nothing for their work. They call the cycle of rejections, teaching and issuing small books the “pobiz,” short for “poetry business.” And maybe the pobiz isn’t so bad, if you look at it a certain way.”

More

Poets are Liars

If poets are but liars then I must be one of the best
This is, of course, a mild confession
For poets, tho’ liars by profession,
Endeavor to give an air of truth to their fictions
The poet lies for the improvement of reality
Though reviewers seem not to have noticed this

I don’t know that poets necessarily tell the truth about themselves
But great poets are liars with such impeccable gifts you think you’re hearing the truth
Believe in poets, and they are no longer liars
Though beware: he would be a liar who just spoke the truth
For it is the poets you do follow who go astray!

-Margaret in Richmond (search phrase: “poets are liars”)

Here at Poegles.com we run a poetry contest.  So we like to keep an eye on other poetry contests.  Here’s an interesting one we spotted on the web that is in honor of National Colorectal Cancer month.

I think my favorite poem among the finalists is A Tale of Two Colons (for real), which I really recommend.  Where else can you find such a stanza:

But his neighbor thought it was a drag

To hear how his doctor would nag

Because of his fear

Of a tube up his rear

He now must go poop in a bag.

More colon poems

Each month we will be awarding $100 to a poegler for the best crafted poegle, as chosen by the Editors of Poegles.com.  We will accept poegles of any length and in any form, provided that they are in English.  In order to be entered to win, poeglers must register for the Poegles.com newsletter, and provide us with copy by noon EST on the date of the contest deadline.  Poeglers must also supply the search phrase they used to generate the poegle, as well as a mailing address to which the cash award can be sent.  Participants grant to Poegles.com rights to publish their poegles, per our terms.

Send us your poegles!  The May 2009 Poegles Challenge is open until noon EST on May 31st, 2009.  Please email your poegles to editor@poegles.com. 

The best poegles will be placed on the website and shared in our newsletter.  Please include your name and the search phrase that you used to generate your poegle.

April winner: Polly in the Blue Ridge for Synchronicity

March winner: Judith in the North for Don’t Flash That Light Anymore, Honey

February winner: Jamie in Brooklyn for At the Edge of the Park.  

January winner: Julie in DC for You Are Entering.  

View the submissions archive.

David Pogue announces a twitter-driven book project:

That was it. I knew my mission in life: to compile and edit a whole book of these responses, written by my 200,000 followers.  Excerpt from the article:

Every night for the next few weeks, I’ll pose another question on Twitter. For example:

• What’s your greatest regret?
• Sum up your life story in six words.
• Tell us about your wedding proposal.
• What’s the best toast you ever heard?
• What’s the best Internet joke you ever got emailed?
• Anyone seen any good bumper stickers lately?
• Tell us about a Brush with Greatness (a celebrity encounter).
• What was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you?
• Write a haiku about your childhood.
• Send me your best anagram of a current famous person’s name.

Each two-page spread of the book will contain the best of your responses to a single question.

“The World According to Twitter” will be a charming, irresistible, extremely hilarious little book, a book that couldn’t be written in any other way.

Fascinating.

Why Can’t I Forgive You?

Results: One to ten of about three thousand, six hundred and forty.
A Christian reflection, review provided by Thomas More.
When crime shatters a family, sooner or later the survivors go.
Hell. Used out of forever, I decipher the monolith of the condemned past.
After forever, there’s no blame in my life. I’m willing to forgive and forget
The feelings of rage. Will systematic prayer and counseling tell me good news?
Results: 21 to 26, of 26. Imperfection my guide, my strength, my life? No.
Ever aching foes of Adolf Hitler, the price varies for this fire.
Damn when you couldn’t help yourself, ridiculous. Forgiveness and resentment due.

Andy from Chicago (Search phrase: “Why can’t I forgive you”)

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