21st Century, Bad Poetry, and an Update

To Infinity and Beyond
When I arrived home the other afternoon after a long and arduous day of bringing home the bacon, I found my three children (Caitlyn was visiting due to Spring Break) immersed in the world which has become our world and is referred to by many as “the 21st century,” causing me to feel as if I'd slipped down a long and slippery rabbit hole and emerged in a futuristic novel in which the world has moved forward in time and that which is has become that which will be. First I saw Caitlyn, perched on a stool in the kitchen, headphones on and fingers dancing across the keyboard of her laptop (she was writing a story for one of her classes). Then I went into the living room and saw Connor playing a video game on Katie’s laptop and Carrie sitting at the computer facebooking (also with her headphones on). It is definitely a brave new world.

Bad Poems
As you may know if you’re a faithful and regular reader, I hold a “Bad Poetry” contest every year for my students, in which they endeavor to write the very best bad poem and win fame and fortune in the form of gaining the satisfaction that their poem was selected as one of the very best worst poems that was written that year. I receive several hundred submissions for this contest (maybe because it’s an assignment, and if they don’t turn in an entry, they get a zero, and maybe because the kids get excited about writing bad poetry) all of which are bad, but only a few of which are so bad that they’re actually really good. Now some may say that having children learn to write bad poems is a complete and utter waste of time. And some wouldn’t. And some would say it’s “cheating” for me to include their work on this site, because this is supposed to be my site filled with my thoughts and musings, but I would respond to all of these critics by pointing out that I am touching the future here, people, so get over it. Anyway, here are a few of my faves from this year’s crop (with the names left off because we live in a world ruled by paranoia, which means that we’re afraid that including children’s names on these poems might somehow induce one of the many web-surfing weirdos who lurk on the internet searching for children’s names to kidnap them and do horrible and unspeakable things):

Hickory Dickory Dock

Hickory Dickory Dock
Three mice ran up the clock
The clock struck one
and the other two escaped with minor injuries.

-G. S.

Decapitated

With a squelching sound
Decapitated heads roll
Going splat on floor.

-M. H.

This is Just to Say (inspired by William Carlos Williams)

I have eaten
the children
that were in
your yard

and which
you were probably
saving
for family game night

Forgive me
they were delicious
so juicy
and not furry at all

-M. K.

Broken Heart

We were so in love,
then he broke my heart. Now I'm
gonna break his face.

-K. P.

Limerick

There once was a schizophrenic mother
Whose young child she did smother
"It's too bad," she assessed,
But she wasn't depressed,
"Because I still have each other."

-N. C.

Hmm. After reading through these, I can’t help but notice how many of them contain violent and disturbing imagery. Does this say something about the youth of America, or the author of this website? I’ll leave that to you to decide.

Countdown to Boston
As those of you who are on the downlow and plugged into the whole running scene may be aware, there’s a little race scheduled to be held in Boston a few weeks from now which me and about 25,000 of my very best friends will be participating in. Because of this, I’ve been spending a lot of hours pounding the pavement in an attempt to prepare for the rigors of running 26.2 miles at a reasonably rapid pace (for me – which is most definitely a less than rapid pace for the really fast runners of the world – or even the reasonably fast runners). As part of my training, next week I’ll be participating in the Arizona Distance Classic with a group of Team in Training teammates who have raised a bunch of money for the fight against cancer. Because it’s so close to Boston, instead of racing in this event for 13.1 miles, I’ll be going out early to put in extra miles, which means I’ll be running at a slower pace for a longer distance (planning to go 23 miles that day). My challenge will be to rein in the crazy-psycho runner who takes over my mind, body, and soul every time a starting gun goes off, and I’m hoping that putting in an extra 10 miles or so before the race will take care of crazy-psycho Brian, but we’ll have to wait and see.

That’s all I’ve got for now, so until next time, may your poetry remain lyrical and deep, may your glue remain sticky, and may your computers remain functional and benign.