April 06, 2007

Lovely Pesach, Easter, Spring & Weekend to You!

Via Fuse #8, the 'funnest' National Poetry Month game ever -- what poetry form are you?

I am the sonnet, never quickly thrilled;
Not prone to overstated gushing praise
Nor yet to seething rants and anger, filled
With overstretched opinions to rephrase;
But on the other hand, not fond of fools,
And thus, not fond of people, on the whole;
And holding to the sound and useful rules,
Not those that seek unjustified control.
I'm balanced, measured, sensible (at least,
I think I am, and usually I'm right);
And when more ostentatious types have ceased,
I'm still around, and doing, still, alright.
In short, I'm calm and rational and stable -
Or, well, I am, as much as I am able.
What Poetry Form Are You?

If only they'd had jell-o instead of cream buns... it might have changed everything...

In more poopy news, the SF Cody's is closing, leaving only the 4th Street locale in Berkley... independent bookstores are closing shop all over. 'Tis depressing...

In honor of getting a note from my dear editor that "we'd like to be finished up with the final edit by early May," and my subsequent lying on the floor and sighing, I present:

Fifteen, Maybe Sixteen Things to Worry About
by Judith Viorst

My pants could maybe fall down when I dive off the diving board.

My nose could maybe keep growing and never quit.

Miss Brearly could ask me to spell words like stomach and special.

(Stumick and speshul?)

I could play tag all day and always be "it."

Jay Spievack, who's fourteen feet tall, could want to fight me.

My mom and my dad--like Ted's--could want a divorce.

Miss Brearly could ask me a question about Afghanistan.

(Who's Afghanistan?)

Somebody maybe could make me ride a horse.

My mother could maybe decide that I needed more liver.

My dad could decide that I needed less TV.

Miss Brearly could say that I have to write script and stop printing.

(I'm better at printing.)

Chris could decide to stop being friends with me.

The world could maybe come to an end on next Tuesday.

The ceiling could maybe come crashing on my head.

I maybe could run out of things for me to worry about.

And then I'd have to do my homework (in this case, my editing) instead.

1 comment:

a. fortis said...

Since my two possible poetry forms, the lai and the terza rima, didn't seem to quite describe me (or at all), I decided that of course I have to be the one form of Welsh poetry!

Great quiz, though!

That is really sad about the SF Cody's closing. I was most saddened by the Telegraph location closing, though--after spending so many hours (and dollars) there when I lived in Berkeley. What a shame!