What better way to celebrate World Poetry Day than by revisiting a few of the poems Evil Editor has composed to bring culture to his query critiques?
[Are you calling him a rhymester instead of a poet because you think his poems have no literary value? If so, do you feel they have no literary value because they rhyme? Because they include death threats? What makes you an authority on poetry? Here's a little test. One of the following death threat poems has the potential to become a literary classic. Which one?
Death. It cometh to us all,
Bringing grief and sorrow.
And yours will surely cast a pall,
For it's happening tomorrow.
I've got some bad news to impart,
So you'd better sit down, Gina.
I'm planning to rip out your heart,
And feed it to my hyena.
Not as easy as you thought, is it? Show us one of his works so we can judge for ourselves.]
With images of wolves, dry jerky, and affection that vows, "no matter the land / I will call to you", the poems of "A War Bride" lead the reader to the middle of the forest, where words - and the silence between them - are at their most powerful.
Ode to Dry Jerky
Whether at home or land afar,
I will call to you,
O strip of dry meat,
Salty and lean.
Ostrich, elk or venison,
Bacon, boar or kangaroo;
All enshroud the buds of taste
But to a poet, just one will do,
And that, of course, is turkey jerky.]
For instance, Xanaduian. If you pronounce it Zan a du ee an it's five syllables, but if you pronounce it Zan a du yen it's four. If I were writing a haiku, I'd go with four syllables. Otherwise it takes up the entire first line. To illustrate, compare these haiku:
Brings pleasure to Kublai Khan
But not to students.
It describes Rooster Hat Trick,
Whoever that is.
As haiku, they're equally great, but the first one has more words. That's the point I'm trying to make.]
Told in multi-voiced verse, “Tenth Grade” explores a year in the life of a dozen teens growing up in an unnamed rural community somewhere in the Midwest. There is Jasmine, struggling with the resentment she feels towards her long-absent father upon his unexpected return.
[Father, I'm glad that you've returned,
Partly 'cause I love you still,
But mostly 'cause now that you're here
You'll be much easier to kill.]
Aaron faces family tragedy when his sister is killed during military service, but his relationship with Alexie helps him not to linger in grief.
[My sister was blown up
By the Taliban yesterday.
Comfort me, Alexie,
With a roll in the hay.]
Sandra struggles with body image and self-mutilation before she meets artistic Javier.
[I wish you wouldn't cut yourself, Sandy,
But since you do insist,
Let me show you how to make
Cool red designs on your wrists.]
My poetry has been published in Stirring: A Literary Collection, World Haiku Review,[World Haiku Review? I wonder if they would publish any of Evil Editor's Haikus:
Novel? Why Bother?
World Haiku Review:
With seventeen syllables
You can be published.
The summer Nilla Jeffers moves to Washington, D.C., she’s convinced that eleven years of wishing on birthday candles, dandelion seeds, and the first star in the night sky have paid off: she is finally getting a dog. [Nilla, Nilla, be careful what you wish for. Here's verse 2 from my poem, "I Hate My Pets:"
He sheds on the carpet;
He sheds on my clothing;
The whole house is knee-deep in hair.
He barks at the neighbors;
He bites the repairman;
And chases the cat everywhere.
He chews up my shoes;
He humps my guests' legs;
He nips at my heels when I jog.
So many animals get hit by cars;
Why doesn't . . . my friggin' dog?]
Someone was bound to ask, so here's verse 1:
She pukes on my carpet,
She pukes on my sofa,
She pukes onto my TV set.
She coughs up huge hairballs
And her vet bills have left me
Ten thousand dollars in debt.
She claws all my chairs and my
Curtains, and each day
She brings in a dead mouse or rat.
Hey, the only dead animal I want to see
Inside my house . . . is my own friggin' cat.
... is a suspenseful contemporary story for adult readers who appreciate the work of authors such as Chuck Palahniuk and Bret Easton Ellis. [The only thing I know about Chuck Palahniuk is that his name is an anagram for Haiku Lack Punch. Here's a Haiku he wrote, and it definitely does lack punch:
Bret Easton Ellis
If you can stand him, you'll love
I would love for you to consider representing UNHOLY GHOSTS, my approximately 83,000 word dark urban fantasy set primarily in a punk-rock ghetto known as Downside.
[When you're depressed and shit is making you bitter
You can always go - Downside
When you're hopped up on drugs and feel suicidal
You can off yourself - Downside
Just listen to the racket of the axemen and the drummers
Linger with the emos as they claim their lives are bummers
How can you breathe?
The waste and puke fill the air
You can deny all your responsibilities there
So go Downside, tell yourself life is great
Downside - great place to take a dateDownside - everything sucks when you're there.]