Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Blog o' the Day: Bad Tempered Zombie

If you like haiku (and who doesn't?), then take a moment to read Barbara's poem, a short bad haiku about the sorry state of my wardrobe and the weather. Despite her nineteen-syllable title, I believe her seventeen-syllable haiku is a lament, a cry of desperation from a woman who lives in Calgary, Alberta, where winter and hockey never end.

Then again, I'm probably full of shit. As usual, especially when it comes to poetry.


[Barbara is the talented writer of Bad Tempered Zombie and a contributor to the The Bookworm Collective, a consortium of Canadian, uh, book reviewers.]

8 comments:

Stinkypaw said...

I'm so glad I don't live out west...

And, I think, we're all full of shit! ;-)

Kim Ayres said...

Talking of being full of shit, did you hear about the mathematician who suffered from constipation? He worked it out with a pencil...

Sorry, the old ones are the best

Mary Witzl said...

My socks develop holes overnight too! I buy brand new ones and wear them carefully (yes, you can wear socks carefully, by paring your toenails regularly and not using your socks as shoes, which my kids do). And yet, my socks develop holes overnight, and how is that fair? I suspect there must be some kind of polyester and nylon-eating moth that has evolved. Scary times we're living in.

Mary Witzl said...

Oh, and that's a good haiku! I'm always on the lookout for unusual poetry that doesn't follow the same tired old themes of love and life and the pain of existence.

Attila The Mom said...

Our Charles, oh our Charles
I want more brilliant reviews
on Nora's shitty writing

Prong's tracks on the seat
Reflects horrific bad aim
Martha does lament

I love you enough
to spend a couple minutes
on crappy haiku

Barbara Bruederlin said...

How sweet you are, Charlie! And how astute of you to pick up that the title was longer than the post itself. I realised later that I should have made the title a haiku as well, but by then I was all poetried out.

Charlie said...

SP: I didn't know you were a philosopher, but I believe you're right: we're all full of it.

KIM: You are a philosopher, so you are confirmation of SP's insight.

A little advice, though. If I were you, which I'm not, I wouldn't give up my photography, writing, musings, and whatever else I do to join a comedy club.

MARY: I have always believed that socks come with the holes already in them. Either that, or I've been buying pre-owned socks all my life.

I also agree that Barbara's haiku is great, and for the same reasons you liked it. The haiku masters in Japan may not agree with us, but what they don't know won't hurt 'em.

BB: Poetried out? That's a good one—I love new words. NOTE TO ME: Call the OED tomorrow.

Charlie said...

MOM: You bowled me over with the time you spent writing poetry for me and Prong. You even made me cry because, after being microwaved, Prong doesn't spit up any longer.

And Nora, how can we ever forget her? It was Ms. Roberts who brought us together: I wrote a review of her rubbish, and you hurled coffee all over your computer screen when you read it.
Our fate was sealed: we've been hurling invectives at each other ever since.

The love is mutual, Mom, and it includes all your boys—especially the Little Guy.

As far as crappy haiku, this is the BEST crappy haiku I've read. I'm sure that Mary and Barbara will agree, and Kim will tell another crappy joke.

Thanks for being you.