The Unbearable Lightness of Verse 8
he was a tautology
an oxymoron
a figure of speech
an agnostic
an atheist
he beggared belief
he was terminally contradictory
though he would say
he was not
he was a man for all seasonings
but not paprika
not bergamot.
Taking part in OpenLinkNight over at dverse.
Desire – what is it good for?
tender is the night
long is the day’s journey into night
it’s easier to name a street car
than it is to name one’s desire
never attempt a ménage in a glass menagerie
there is nothing less erotic than a red wheelbarrow
a thing of beauty is a joy for a fortnight.
This poem was originally written as a response to Anmol Arora’s prompt – Poetics: Desire and Sexuality in Poetry, at dverse
photo taken in Sitges, Catalonia.
Also taking part in Open Link over at earthweal: earthweal
A Hoedown for the Pronouns (Grammarama 2022)
This year for Grammarama
we attempted to organize
a hoedown for the pronouns
they, she, he
but we couldn’t get the verbs to agree.
Things got very tense
they kept dredging up the past
getting all conditional on us
every time we seemed close to a consensus
they would run off into corners
and conjugate.
Then it got melogrammatic
the pronouns them, her, him
announced they were tired
of being used as objects
and refused to participate.
In the end we threw up our hands
and gave up.
Give me a bunch of nouns any day.
The Doggerel Days of Summer Part 2
Oft on a still summer evening
I take my doggerel
for a long, long walk
looking for rhymes
in all the wrong places.
I bring with me
a small, beige, plastic bag;
when I finish the poem I’m composing
I place the poem in the plastic bag
and deposit the bag
in a trash can deep in the forest
a trash can known to all the local poets
a trash can where moon always rhymes with June
a trash can where clouds
are as fluffy as mashed potatoes.
The challenge over at earthweal is to write about ‘wild stillness”. So this is a poem about an attempt to write a poem. Check out earthweal here for poems that actually meet the challenge!
Relatives
Slim* has an aunt and uncle
who fight all the time
like Simon and Garfunkel
they have a son
who looks like
Russ Kunkel
the session drummer
who played with,
among others,
Joni Mitchell
and, yes,
Art Garfunkel.
Slim also has a cousin
who likes to snorkel,
at the local swimming pool.
She is constantly amazed
at how pale the human body looks
when viewed under water.
I’m amazed at how pale
the human body looks
when viewed under water
she says,
every time she returns
from the pool
her name is Rachel
Rachel, who likes to snorkel.
*aka Slim Volume, real name Reginald Dwight…..not really, think that’s Elton John’s real name. For more about Slim, see here.
Scenes from a Restaurant in the Time Between Variants
the guys from finance
hold their wine glasses by the stem
and every now and again
they do that swirl and sniff thing
the girl in the tight dress
is two drinks away
from feeling comfortable
a couple out on their first date
have discovered too late
that they have nothing to say to each other
the long evening yawns before them
the bathroom door bursts open
two bros wearing dark suits
and built like refrigerators
emerge, their eyes pulsing
with guilty energy
it’s happy hour
cocktails are fifty per cent off
and all the cocktails have jokey names
Insane Moose
Milantini
Rogue Zamboni
nothing on the menu escapes description
the Market Crashin’ IPA
has a dry hopped finish with a touch of citrus
the Failed Priest Sauvignon Blanc
is full bodied with gooseberry and melon grace notes
and that beet and feta salad we’ve ordered
just happens to be a personal favorite of our waitress
she loves that hint of sourness
the cheese brings to the dish
she’s a dancer, by the way,
lived for a while in Saskatoon.
Taking part in Open Link over at dverse.
Bucket List (a ghazal)
mountain climbing in County Meath
put it on my bucket list
fly fishing in the Sahara
put it on my bucket list
snow shoeing in the Serengeti
put it on my bucket list
surfing in Saskatchewan
put it on my bucket list
stop hiding behind a shield of sarcasm
Really? Put that on my bucket list?
write a ghazal about everlasting love
aw fuck it, put it on my bucket list
stop peppering my poems with profanity
that’s a prohibition, it has no place on the list.
NaPoWriMoan (Day 11)
NaPoWriMo
eleven days in
and I have nothing to show
last night I rummaged through abandoned shoeboxes
in the dusty attic of my mind
(I apologize for those last two lines)
and there’s nothing there, bro
there’s nothing there………bro
I’m moving in slow mo
I’ve lost my mojo
my get up and go
I have met my Alamo
or is it Waterloo?
I’m running on empty
no quid pro quo
NaPoWriMo
NaPoWriMo
nineteen days to go
nineteen days to go.
Couple rushing from a Parked Car carrying Yellow Yoga Mats
late for yoga class
I’m like, how stressful is that?
stop panting, breathe, breathe.
Animal Magnetism
he had no animal magnetism
he was the kind of guy
who would have a hard time
getting a dog to hump his leg
then one fall day it happened
in a leaf-strewn park
a cocker spaniel
love at first bark
they’ve been together ever since.
Poetic Ailments
irritable vowel syndrome
arrhythmia
pain in the assonance
acute enjambment
inflammation of the lower case
latinnittus
typographical dysfunction
fear of sonnets
halibunions
grammaroids
rhymetism
pundruff
the irrational fear
on entering a room
that someone is going to recite
The Lake Isle of Inisfree
in a plummy, orotund
stage Irish accent.
Taking part in Open Link Weekend over at earthweal.
The Ghost Of Hangovers Past
Your cell phone rings
but you’re not listening
because you left it
in The Fox and Vixen
behind the cistern
in the last stall on the left
next to the condom machine
and now it’s 4 am
your wife sleeps soundly beside you,
in the corner of the room
your hangover squats
sorting a tray of instruments.
It all began with a few beers,
some Christmas Cheer
so how did it get
from there to here?
Slowly you remember or think you remember….
Did you really poke your boss in the chest
and tell him that you know better
that you know best?
Did you really down three shots of scotch
grab Mark from marketing by the shoulders
and proclaim “I love you bro”
over and over ‘till he begged you to stop
to let go?
And why, why, why
did you call that shy Dutch girl from accounting
“sad-eyed lady of the lowlands”
again, over and over?
You groan inwardly
you groan outwardly
and just when you think
it could not get worse
your hangover stands up
and crosses the room
carrying what appears to be
a small mallet
Zooooosh,
he enters your head
and proceeds to knock on the inside of your skull
with that same mallet
all the time chanting this manic mantra
“deck the halls with human folly
Fa la la la la, la la la la”.
Four hours later your wife is shaking you
Up you get, she chimes
It’s time to do some Christmas shopping!
Joe Fresh opens at 9!
Taking part in Open Link over at dverse.
This poem first appeared in Sarah Connors advent calendar 2020. Check out Sarah’s 2021 calendar here,
A post from the time before the time.
We got off the train from Machu Picchu at the Ollantaytambo station, walked up the station road to the town square and came upon this: Mother’s Day in Ollantaytambo. It went on all day – entertainment, raffles, prizes, politicians’ speeches. The ladies seemed to enjoy themselves, although they never clapped once.
Later that evening, we had dinner in the restaurant down at the station and walking home we witnessed this haiku-worthy scene.
Station Road
I
Two black dogs humping
a puzzled white terrier
on the station road.
II
Puzzled about what?
about the expectations
of the dog in front.
photo by Marie Feeney
Taking part in Open Link over at dverse.
Hal The Halibunist Looks Back On His Long Career
halibuns about Haliburton
halibuns about halitosis
halibuns about Halle Berry
halibuns about Halley’s Comet
halibuns about Spiritus Mundi
halibuns about Rosamund Pike
halibuns about Solomon Grundy
halibuns just for the fun of it
halibuns at Sun Dance
halibuns in Halifax
halibuns about halibut
halibundance
halibundance
halibundance.
Taking part in Open Link over at dverse.
A Reasonable Facsimile
that’s what Myron’s mother called him –
a reasonable facsimile ,
of his brother, that is,
in that his brother
was preternaturally unreasonable
if his brother was the weather
his mother said
he would be deemed unseasonable
his actions were incomprehensible
reprehensible, irredeemable
so based on the principle
that no praise is too faint
Myron was amenable
to being called
a reasonable
facsimile of his brother.
Taking part in Open Link over at dverse
Dunbar the Bucolic
up on Dunbar Street
the barber shops are empty
a guy smokes a joint
and laughs hysterically
at the blank screen of his phone
when asked if the melon is ripe
the girl behind the counter
at the Chinese-Canadian Deli
sniffs the pale green globe,
shakes her head
and pointing to a small beige circle,
says:
this is the melon’s bottom
the melon is ripe,
when the bottom smells sweet.
outside the traffic stalls
on Dunbar Street
Sherry over at earthweal asks us: “Tell us about the places you hold most dear in the corner of the planet where you live. Share them with us; let us see them through your eyes and your words”.
I live just off Dunbar Street and to be honest, the street is more than a tad prosaic, even if the real estate pamphlets call it “bucolic”. But if I don’t put Dunbar in a poem, who’s going to? So these are two slices of Dunbar life. By the way, for some reason, there are more barber shops on Dunbar than the population could possibly need.
The Wrong Way Home
happy hours and peeler bars
he’s taking the wrong way home
a friendly toke, a line of coke
he’s taking the wrong way home
the night is young, pass that bong
he’s taking the wrong way home
a McFlurry, an Indian curry
he’s taking the wrong way home
a pounding head, a stranger’s bed
he’s taking the wrong way home
early dawn, suitcase on the lawn
he’s found his way home.
Sound Bite
Angela Merkel
Meghan Markle
vowels apart.
Extinction
Thesaurus Rex
never lost for words
gone before his time.
Fallibility
he was just
another cardinal error
afloat on a papal sea.
Oprah among the Chickens
As I watched Oprah, Harry and Meghen
standing among the chickens
standing at the epicenter of an event
that sent shock waves
throughout the free world
I asked myself this question:
Is a rescue chicken
a chicken that has been rescued by people
or is it a chicken that rescues people?
I then asked myself another question:
How many Royals does it take to change a light bulb?
and a voice answered:
It’s a journey.
They must first acknowledge
that the light bulb
was the source of the light
that previously flooded the room
then and only then
is change possible.
Names
those that can
stand alone
those that can’t
hyphenate.
Looking back now to 2016 when the above was written, it’s hard to believe that slimverse was once an obscure 12 syllable (3-3-3-3) verse form, standing in the shadow of its older sibling, the seventeen syllable (5-7-5) haiku. Now, it’s 2021, year 2 in the age of Covid and slimverse is, well, still an obscure 12 syllable (3-3-3-3) verse form, standing in the shadow of its older sibling, the seventeen syllable (5-7-5) haiku. The above masterpiece was composed by Slim (Volume) and I in the early hours of the morning following “the Poet’s Circle” Christmas Party which was held at the Accomplished Poet’s house. It was a fun-filled night of poetic over-indulgence and excess. The Accomplished Poet (an avid gardener) read a poem about pruning as a metaphor for the editing process involved in writing a poem, it was tortuous but accomplished. The Upper Case Poet had a minor shoving match with our newest and youngest member, the editor of an edgy E-zine called “Capslock Off” – no prizes for guessing what the argument was about. Slim hung around the buffet all night like a dog that had come across a bag of pork chops while walking in the woods, then later insisted that he had an invented a new word : “tumultaneous” – when tumultuous events occur simultaneously. He was met with benign indifference. But that was all back when Slim and I were in each other’s pockets before our estrangement, our parting of the ways, but more about that later…….
Taking part in Open Link Weekend over at earthweal
The Altar of Zoom
God is now on Zoom
but his microphone is muted
some would say
and I don’t dispute it
that his microphone has been muted
for quite some time now
okay, don’t have a holy cow
that was a joke
but honestly it’s been a while
since he spoke
those proxy sermons
from earnest priests
hardly count
they can’t hold a holy candle to
they don’t have the heft, the clout
of his greatest hit
the Sermon on the Mount
yep, that’s the big one
voted top sermon of all time
by the folks at Rolling Stone
a hard one to follow
one that stands alone.
Taking part in Open Link Night over at dverse
Royal Watch
In this issue, our resident royal watcher, Georgina Shallowglass talks about the moment when she realized that corgis are real dogs.
She also reports on the launch of Vapid’s new clothing line, DowdyThreads.
Yes, now you too can relax like the Royals in our comfortable tweed skirts, twin sets and for those cooler evenings, wooly cardigans.
All our tweed skirts have been pre-stressed by English ladies of a settled disposition. All garments have been treated with our trademark fabric conditioner, DampFug, which creates an odor which can otherwise only be attained by spending time in a draughty castle.
Georgina reports that, all things considered, the launch went well, although the corgis just would not keep their masks on and in retrospect she should have walked them before the event.
The Crown
Jonathan Shallowpit has been re-instated (it’s hard to find people to work for the wages we pay) and is taking over as movie and television critic while Georgina is on royal duties. He has written a poem about the Netflix series, The Crown. Here’s the first verse:
I’m watching The Crown on Netflix
man, those royals are emotionally stunted
all the men are pompous pricks
the women can only relate to horses.
Steady there, Jonathan!
He also poses the question: Is Wolf Blitzer a robot?
Jonathan has observed that Wolf’s expression hasn’t changed in four years.
Travel
We are worried about our travel correspondent, Perry Patetic. We hadn’t heard from him in six months but just recently we got this cryptic dispatch:
I’ve been to Elo
I’ve been to Elko
What a difference
a K makes.
In Perry’s absence, Jordan Shallowditch has taken over travel duties and provides a number of useful tips for those who miss airplane food on where to find salted pretzels and chocolate puddings.
All this and more in Issue 19 of Vapid Magazine where shallow runs deep!
Vapid Magazine Submission Guidelines
Format:
All submissions should be single-spaced. Please use Arial font, Arial is one of our favorite Shakespearean characters.
If your submission is of a religious nature, you may use a Baptismal font.
Please do not use semi-colons, they confuse us.
Poetry:
Please submit a maximum of 6 poems at a time.
Simon Shallowpond, our poetry editor, celebrity watcher and gossip columnist has catholic tastes, but will accept non- religious poetry. He is partial to free verse. “Free verse”, he says, “let it roam, far from all rhyme and reason!”
All verse published here at Vapid Magazine is of course “free” in that we never pay for it.
Fiction:
Our main requirement is that all fiction should be totally made up. Please keep it short, our attention span is limited. Endings should be happy.
Non- Fiction:
Here at Vapid, we believe that this category no longer exists.
Visual Art:
Yes, we accept visual art. Our Art Editor, Georgina Shallowglass likes to say “if I can see it, it’s visual”.
When to Submit
Unfortunately, we are not accepting submissions at the moment, our staff is working remotely because of the pandemic which means that they are not doing anything that remotely resembles working.
In these trying times, we would like to encourage all our readers to stay safe and keep it Vapid.
Caption
Well, a lot has been happening in the Lads’ Poetry Project since we last checked in, we have two new additions to the project, both from the UK, and both of a quality that the project doesn’t deserve.
First we have Sarah Connor who gives us the view from the other room where there is a party of a different kind going on, find out more here!
Next we we have Kim Whysall-Hammond who gives us the perspective of the only woman in the room (she uses the word “engineer” in a poem which is a fairly rare occurrence), find out more here!
Sarah and Kim are both fine poets, so be sure to check out their other work when you are over there…and remember the Lad’ Poetry Project criteria are simple:
the poem must start with the phrase (or some variation of it): “Me and the lads…” and the tone must be somewhat less than elevated.
Stopdraggingthepanda 