[lit-ideas] Re: Bad Poetry Competition 2011
- From: David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Tue, 14 Jun 2011 12:16:36 -0700
On Jun 14, 2011, at 12:02 PM, Mike Geary wrote:
> DR: "I half-apologize for not following the rules about numbers and titles.
> I returned from Mexico on Sunday and was feeling feverish yesterday."
>
> Hold on there. Whoa. That won't do. That don't wash. For you penance say
> three Our Fathers and three Hail Marys. Now go in peace and sin no more.
>
> Father Mike
> Memphis
I spent yesterday puttering, sleeping. In the morning I woke to aches and
pains, the sort that usually accompany a fever. Since no other symptoms
developed, I unpacked, did the washing, drove to Costco to get my glasses
fixed, talked with the girls, went back to bed and slept for a couple of hours.
I kept imagining that I'd sit down and write an account of Mexico; I knew that
this was not possible. After a little weeding, I made dinner. I thought I'd
go to bed early, but suddenly the symptoms waned and so, in response to what I
understood of lit ideas correspondence I wrote two things. I knew I hadn't
quite understood what was being asked--possibly the weirdest symptom was
slowness of intellect--but I wanted to write.
Now I've found "the rules."
> Entries (multiple entries allowed) should be presented one at a time and
> given a title: e.g. "Look".
>
> The entry should then consist of two parts
>
> (1) A poem or an excerpt from a poem written by a poet.
>
> (2) Something written by the entrant, which may bear some resemblance or no
> resemblance to what is written by the poet.
>
> The aim of the competition is to make it difficult to guess which of the two
> is the real poet
What could be clearer? How could I have been able to write/edit those two
pieces, but fail to find and comprehend the rules exactly? Ah, mysteries of
the wobbly brain
In this morning's paper is a piece about the five Mexican soccer players who
were suspended for using illegal substances. The current theory is that they
ate too much steroid-enhanced meat. Maybe that's what's wrong? If you find my
words bulging a bit, hints of Arnold about them...there's your answer...osso
bucco poisoning. (Yeah, the best food in town was Italian). Sad, innit?
Or, as Geary implies, maybe I just need more hails.
David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon
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