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Poetry Information.... from Heart-Links.com |
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THe Monster Mash, A Graveyard SMASH (short story I wrote when I was 11)The Monster Mash The Graveyard Smash Have you heard of the Monster Mash? I suppose you know the story of how it came to be, right? Well, I'm here to tell the TRUE story to you. It sarted out late one night, when all monsters where out of human sight. Then a tune started playing and I jumped from fright! The monsters appeared! What an eerie sight! They were movin' and a grovin'! Rockin' and a rollin'! There was no way to stop this party, except to say "Do the Mash!" As soon as I did everyone stared! Frankenstein and Dracula said "The Mash?" So I explained, "Yeah, you know? The monster Mash? THe graveyard smash? Please tell me you know the Mash!" "Um..." all the monsters replied "no." Then I taught all the monsters the Mash! We were dancing for six hours straight! It was such a delight that I go everynight! Sometimes I even invite my human friends! Last night there was a huge surprise. We found out that the swamp monster from the Black Lagoon was also doing the Monster Mash! So if you see Piranha's jumping around they are just grovin' along with the music! The dance has become so popular that their is now a song! Last time I went dancing the Coffin Bangers came! They're the best ever! Of course you won't believe me until you here them! Wolfman, Dracula, and his son came! So did many others, including ghouls and zombies. Next time you should come! Well, if your monster fiend ever needs some dancing help come straight to me! Some where inside him he knows the Monster Mash! Now the question is.... DO YOU?? I wrote this when I was 11 and was wondering what you thought of it? I think there are some places where I want to change things, but I won't. When I wrote this I was happy with, so why change it now? What do you think of it?
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Poetry - Google News | | | | RELATED ARTICLES Poetry and Popular Culture Is poetry too complicated for the average reader? Is it too cryptic, scholarly? If you ask a large group of average people what they like or don't like about poetry, you'll get a few different answers, but there is an overwhelmingly common category of responses.One of the main reasons that people say they aren't addicted to contemporary poetry is that they feel it is too cryptic. Wars, Air of Ambiguity [for: Lt. Laura Walker] in SPANISH and English Wars, air of AmbiguityDedicated to 1st. Lt. A Happiness Poem If a happiness poem could bring forth a smile, Then my face would always dress in style.If my ears could hear my computer screen, From one to another, they, too, would grin. The Power of Eating Disorders I want to get closeI am afraid.Afraid of what you might see. The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English] English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam Were playing cards, singing songs; In a solo-room, back of the hut Lay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And watching from a distance Was his sidekick, Corporal Cook.When out of the night, he wantedTo fight This bully of six-foot-two Dog-drunk, smelling like a skunkI wanted to fight him too. Kafka Re-Trial Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silvery alien craft, And whilst he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an instant one off fine At a cash dispenser of his choice And they are checking all the time On his irises face and voice.And of course they find that he is not, They discover he just cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has hands and toes and hair, If he is not on the Great Data Bank, He plainly and simply cannot be, He is not listed and he is not ranked He is surely not like you and me. Africa AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa of the black soul the soul of an ancient culture the culture of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the talking drums your beaded drums and the royal trumpeter the metal gong of your town crieri have come to see your music dance i have heard of your ageless minstrels have i not heard of your swinging hips! i have heard enough and have come to watch wouldn't you dance for me africaafrica here i come africa would you not show me to your tribes the timid tribes of your sweetened tongues the varied tongues of your virtuous menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the mother earth your gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africa your kings of the ancient dynasty the ancient dynasty of rusted spear and shield africa, here i come africaHEAVENLY GUESTheavenly guest heralding thunderously in its own awake pelting on men as well, the gods gathering itself drop by drop. Contract of Death [Now: in SPANISH and English] Contract of DeathI heard today, the preacher say: "Daniel has warned us long ago, Of the trials and tribulations we Are now facing, with our foes?"He says the 'Antichrist' was now In Europe crying: 'peace,' and the 'Axis of Evil,' had already placed Hidden Atomic Russian weaponsUnder our feet, here in the good Ole heart of the United States; 'Palestine's cry for peace,' he adds, Is a loaded Gun for Revelation 3:10;America. A 'Contract for Death,' Is what he called it. Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish] Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet- To face God's grace ahead There are no more trenchesTo dig today? In the forest of your head,So-: Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet! Death rides the horse ahead I hear the crackling of a whip See the crazed eyes of death.He summons you to his den- The devil and his wind,So-: Bow down, bow down Your blood stained brows He will take you to the edge. Mechanical Poetry - Part Three Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and Garfunkle song? Pure poetry. Want to write poems like that? Start copying them. Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish] Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone Thu art a condor to the skyOf glory hidden in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and tremble Beyond your rustic shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, within its stream!My image deeply carved, rippledIn its undiluted shallow watersWaiting, just waiting for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!.. A Death in Cajamarca, Peru (Atahualpa, in Cajamarca ((in English and Spanish)) The Epic Poem:A Death in Cajamarca, Peru [Atahualpa, in Cajamarca]Advance: This is a version, not a translation of any kind, on the incarceration and death of Atahualpa the Inca King of the Inca Empire, in the 16th century (Peru).Atahualpa, enduring in Cajamarca Greeted by De Soto, his free friend from Spain! "Be Calm! These times will be tolerant to you. Rhymes of an Ordnance Man [Vietnam War: 1971] Rhymes of an Ordnance Man [Vietnam War: 1971]An eleven part poem By Dennis L. SilukI had went to Vietnam at the age of 23 [1971], and it was most interesting, there were 205,000 troops there when I arrived. The Valley Of Pain We were exiled from the Garden of Eden. Its sinless wonders nevermore to regain. Five Poems from Home [And a view on the planet vs. the poet] Five Poems from Home1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker [Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]Let it be said, Dorothy Parker lies dead, cremated to ash and poetry; thus, she died at the ripe old age of seventy-three-.The tiny woman with a big mouth, who got caught in the rain and couldn't get out: continued to play the game, all the same, like drops of rain upon a pane. Listen as I Share: WE You speak simple, completley understandable justifications I respect them, respect you, honor what you tell me and even though I know where you're coming from, I just wanted to share with you, let you hear: my heart.. In The Midst Of All In the midst of darkness, there is light. In the midst of evil, there is virtue. Poetry in Turbulence To many non-specialists of literature, poetry is deeply unsatisfying. There are several reasons for this, but two in particular come to mind. A Different Place... I wish we had met 20 years ago.. The Man Who Could Not Say Sorry For His Sins Sorry would be a start.Though you cant take back your mistakes, and you cant unravel time, you'd think there would be remorse, for such a self serving crime, to send others out to die, to pay the blood price you have decreed, when its purely posturing and posing, all about vanity and greed, to secure a perceived niche in history, glowing down the years, is the extent of your ambition, is the puny limit of your fears, when those you have sent to die, believing implicitly in you, leave relatives behind who see, that nothing you said was true, there is no thought now for those, whose number you dont count, they are yesterdays forgotten, though daily they still mount, no thought of resignation, no apology to those left behind, just onward with the ego, fast forward from those times, as if nothing ever happened, as if your lies are quite ok, as if now is what to focus on, and then was another day, lost back in the mists of time, obscured by clouds half seen, not an affront to the living, not impeachable and obscene, you may want to move on now, and ignore your past infamy, but you should be tried for treason, and jailed for blasphemy. |
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