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January 07, 2009

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Star

Inspired by our friend from the other day, the Blog Princess found herself positively itching to engage in a random act of drive-by poetry.

Alert readers (or those who love verse) may recognize the derivation:

After twenty lousy years,
The only thing I got
Was a freaking blue star.

I was of three minds,
Was it a symbol? A bit sick?
Or just a quasi-cultural attagirl?

The star gleamed in the windy Texas winds.
It's all part of the damned pantomime.

A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a star
Are so alone.

I don't know what I despise more,
My ghetto pool
Or my Mormon neighbor.
The star, gleaming
Or its absence?

A parade of terribles fills the window
Of barbaric glass.
The shadow of the star
Crosses it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
I must steel myself
To return to the battlefield.

O thin men of Saddam,
Could you not imagine gleaming birds, with rockets?
Did you not see how the star
Haunts the dreams
Of the women about you?
We have needs, you know.

I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That that damned star will keep me
From using what I know.

When the star winked out of sight,
It took all my dreams
Along with it.
I am powerless.

At the sight of all those
"Gold star" wives and mothers,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
What about my invisible wounds!
What color star do I get?

I rode to the Commissary
In an SUV.
There, a fear pierced me.
Would there be
A special parking place
Just for me?
Damnitall, I deserve one.

The wind is blowing
Wounding me silently with its unexpected... windiness
Why didn't anyone warn me?

It was windy all afternoon.
And I realized
I'm an outsider, a 'familial appendage'.
The star sits,
silently mocking me.
No ghetto pool today.

We invite the villainry to engage their own Muses in the comments section. Go ahead. Get it all out of your system: the horrors of military life. The trauma. The pathos. Let us know how you have suffered at the hands of Uncle Sam (and darnitall, tell us how much the rest of the country *owes* you for what you have done for them).

Because, you know, it isn't a privilege to be able to serve your country, let alone some "voluntary decision" and anyone who tells you otherwise is just a poor, deluded Bushbot. It's a freaking nightmare.

Posted by Cassandra at January 7, 2009 06:25 PM

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I had to read that poem. *shudders*

I think I would like to write a riff on Williams Faulkner's "A Rose for Emily."

But this looks like more fun.

hm...lessee...writes essay for class, engages class in rhetorical discussion of "A Dream Deferred"...cans 25# cocoa powder...

Yep, I'm up for it.

Posted by: Cricket at January 8, 2009 09:10 AM

i think 11 is my favorite

i also think i should henceforth eschew those pesky capitalization and punctuation marks just transparently artificial constructs of the patriarchal hegemonists employed to keep the proud vaginal-american sisterhood compliant

sort of like that damned wind that wont stop blowing all the time


youre a shining star
no matter who you are
shining bright to see
what you can truly be

Posted by: im melting.... at January 8, 2009 09:45 AM

One need only pivot
To dodge the divot
Cut from a blivet
By a flung trivet.

Burma Shave.

Posted by: BillT at January 8, 2009 12:45 PM

An enlisted man
Will place his life in peril
For a home-cooked meal

Posted by: spd rdr at January 8, 2009 01:42 PM

Okay, you two...

[foot tapping] :)

Those got a laugh out of me.

Posted by: Cassandra at January 8, 2009 01:54 PM

Roses are red
Violets aren't blue (they're violet... that's where we get the name of the color from)
The economy stinks
And so does Mu Shu (pork when it's been left out too long)

Posted by: MikeD at January 8, 2009 01:59 PM

Roses are reddish,
Violets are blue-ish.
If it wasn't for Christmas,
We'd all be Jewish.

-- Nipsey Russell

Posted by: BillT at January 8, 2009 02:07 PM

Blink and you'll miss it
That moment when you did blink
But others lived it

Posted by: Not Enough Syllables To Actually Convey What It Is That I'M Trying To Say About Self-Centered People at January 8, 2009 02:34 PM


Shall I compare thee to a Liberal?
Thou are more dumb and less loyal.

Army wife shattered
By active duty calling
Calls ex for comfort.

NCO goes off to protect the border.
I go home to mother to protect
My sanity.


First Sergeant totals his car
and the CO gets a pilot for his yacht.
Working is such a hassle.

I am stuck in haiku mode.

Posted by: Cricket at January 8, 2009 03:09 PM

You guys are killing me.

I have missed this.

Posted by: Cassandra at January 8, 2009 06:31 PM

I love images.

Last night I was sitting on the sofa and some Marine (who shall remain nameless) informed me that my foot was tapping... a thing I was not aware of at the time.

He then informed me that my tapping foot is like the twitching tail on a cat :p

This cracked me up.

Posted by: Cassandra at January 8, 2009 06:33 PM

A mourning dove feeds
In a marijuana bush
And sings a high coo.

Posted by: Sly's Wardrobe Mistress at January 8, 2009 09:12 PM

A strong tree stands straight
whether its branches wither
well below its crown

Posted by: Hic-Choo at January 8, 2009 10:21 PM

I think that I shall never see.
A poem lovely as a tree....

Or a fire hydrant...

Or a car tire.......


Posted by: McGruff at January 9, 2009 11:46 AM

So, if I blink and miss it, and others lived through it, is that like a tree falling making a sound if no one is around to hear it?

That is so totally deep.

Posted by: Cricket at January 9, 2009 09:30 PM