Tuesday, May 30, 2006

My darling pencil . . .

Here are some of the outstanding, powerful, and emotion-laden poems I wrote when I was in high school, starting with the world famous "Potpourri," which was published in Reflections, the Marion High School literary magazine.

Potpourri
My darling pencil,
How yellow you are.


Slow-Cooker
A toad's breath is sweet as dew.
A bit of honey lies on the floor.
And you looked.
Fly food smells like Heath bars,
And you smelled.
The autoclave sounds like a 10-car running.
And you listened.
And fish don't swing on vines.


Bumblebee
Don't deceive me.
I'll get mad
And punch the wall.


Hold My Ice Cream
Don't be afraid . . .
I'm here to comfort you
from falling rocks.


A Poem About a Man Who is Mad at His Boss and His Wife, and His Car Won't Start
Wax is sticky,
So stand back.


The Mechanics of Exercise
Oh, the cracks.
Speakers set deep,
Pens and pencils
Hovering like Jim.
Who is this fellow?
The pedestal and wall
Without any sense of
where the boat begins.
Oh my, the oregano.


Marking the Cosmos
Luminous revisions
And tanks of whey.
Crop the junction.

15 Comments:

At 4:00 PM, Blogger undulatingorb posited...

Does this signal a comeback into the world of verse? Open mic nights at the House await.

 
At 6:51 PM, Blogger sherlock posited...

Haha, you must not like bumblebee's very much.
"A Poem About a Man Who is Mad at His Boss and His Wife, and His Car Won't Start" is a beautiful title.
Mr. Lade's last day was today, now I have lost my two favorite teachers *sniff*

 
At 7:09 PM, Blogger CoachDub posited...

Thanks, Cameron. But you will never lose me in spirit.

*SNIFFLE* *SNIFFLE* *TEAR*

 
At 8:21 PM, Blogger sherlock posited...

This is true. When I seek out college campuses, perhaps as early as this summer, I may end up in the Chicago area. If you have any suggestions for Liberal Arts colleges, I'm pretty sure I want to major in art history (!). haha, sorry to take up blogspace.

 
At 8:22 PM, Anonymous Anonymous posited...

JOhn, please share the poem you wrote for my mother's funeral.

 
At 8:32 PM, Blogger CoachDub posited...

Sometime I will, Mom, but in a different context than this post.

 
At 8:49 PM, Blogger CoachDub posited...

Cameron, I would love to talk with you about colleges. This probably isn't the venue, though. I don't have your email, but if you want to email me, feel free.

Here is one of my addresses:
johnwanninger (AT) yahoo.com

(Obviously the (AT) is an @, but I don't want any bots after me.)

If you (or anyone else) wants to email me, I will use my other primary address, but I don't want that one all webbed-up.

Oh my god! The bots are coming!

 
At 9:02 PM, Blogger CoachDub posited...

Back to the post . . .

In the line "The autoclave sounds like a 10-car running," here is an explanation of "a 10-car":
A couple of my friends and I went through a month-long phase in 9th grade in which we used the prefix "10" to mean "very."

So, for example, one could say "It's 10-hot outside" or "That shirt is 10-stupid."
So though the phrase "a 10-car" makes no sense out of context, when you know that it translates to "a very car," it makes, well, even less sense.

And I have no idea why of all the lines in the poems, I decided that this is the one that needed explanation.

 
At 10:10 PM, Blogger swalker posited...

I think I will make an effort to use the pharse "Oh my, the oregano" as an interjection from now on.

 
At 10:15 PM, Blogger PBear posited...

From one famous high school poet to another, I salute you.

 
At 10:41 PM, Blogger sherlock posited...

I thought the 10-car referred to a ten-second car, but I suppose referencing the aesthetic qualities with a numeral makes far more sense than its speed...

 
At 10:48 PM, Blogger CoachDub posited...

Sam, I think that you should do that. But would you use it as an interjection of glee or of despair?

Adam, thank you. We poets share a special bond.

Cameron, you dolt. What on earth were you thinking? A ten-second car, indeed! Puh!

 
At 7:37 AM, Blogger Erik posited...

These either went over my head or were not written to be understood by more than three of four people. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed them; my favorite was "A Poem About a Man..."

 
At 9:44 AM, Blogger CoachDub posited...

Erik, they are of course intentionally nonsensical. Sometimes I would show them to someone who would be all "That's so deep," and I would just laugh.

But the thing is, if you were to hypnotize me, we might be able to find some deep meaning. Sometimes, a line would come into my head, but instead of writing that actual line, I would use word association or sound association to change the line into something meaningless.

Ah, high school.

 
At 10:33 PM, Blogger Serenity Now! posited...

Oh my G-d, you read my mind again. I just wrote a poem that started off with "Potpourri." I'll email it to you. Crazy, man, those were the days weren't they? Hey, do you remember the story behind "polkla-dotted?" Ha, I know no one else is going to understand, but it came to my mind today and I laughed out loud. Love ya much, babe.

 

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