NaPM April 03, 2017

[Todd]

Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month. 


Topic 03: Write a poem inspired by a favorite cartoon or cartoon character.
Form : any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more

Questions?

[just mercedes]

Diana Doubleyew Doubleyew



I tell people I was one of the Supremes.
My little joke. My name was Suprema
before I became Diana. My mother
makes all my clothes, gives me gifts:
bracelets, tiara, lassoo, private jet.
She’s very wealthy. I’m her only child.

I love role-playing.I’ll be Diana Prince,
nurse, and you can be Steve Trevor,
handsome jet pilot recovering from
a crash.

We can watch Justice League, it’s
Metahuman Affairs this week. Maybe
they’ll watch us back. You’d like that,
wouldn’t you? Naughty boy. I may
have to tie you up and whip you.

Captain Steve Trevor, take my clothes off!

Let’s play dress-ups. Bathing suit with
gold boots is cool. A retro jumpsuit?
Or leather.

Can’t believe we were married, once.

[Todd]

Mercedes, glad to see you bringing Wonder Woman back to her bondage roots. Kids today forget so much.

[just mercedes]

Mercedes, glad to see you bringing Wonder Woman back to her bondage roots. Kids today forget so much.

[Keith]

Really creepy title

Chair, door suit of armour
chair, door suit of armour
chair door suit of armour
stop at painting with moving eyes
Like yikes Scooby I'm hungry
lets go get some Scooby snacks
before Velma uses us as bait in one of her traps.

[Quixilated]

One hundred acres of forest magic
every tree is somebody's home
my friends and I have worn a path
from one door to the next
we plan grand expeditions
or play poohsticks on the bridge

You search for sticky gold
with pirate perseverance
a balloon, a song, then I come along
with my umbrella and trusty gun
I smile when I notice my shirt
it has a you shaped mud stain

[CRNDLSM]

The Bees Sneeze (my own comic attempt counts right?)

The mad man mixed the jelly fish and bees,
a car crash into the lab made them release.
Spread like disease, called the bee's Sneeze,
forced humans underground for centuries.
Luck was another of many coin tosses,
when by natural causes the local zoo crosses
an elephant with a rhinoceros
to bring an end to their financial losses.
The elefino killed his feeding lady
with mind-control as just a baby.
When asked the suspect said, 'something made me!'
A few more deaths and the town went crazy.
He broke out the animals and massacred the crowd,
putting the zoo on total lock down.
This day and age, no weapons could help out,
so the plan was to wait and starve them out.
The elefino felt the full suffering he brought,
realized he was caught and odds were shot
surviving with this lot, and sent out one final thought
to make everyone outside kill each other on the spot.
Ultimately, earthquakes destroyed the nation,
but underground towns are vulnerable to cave-ins.
Was this the end though of civilization? 
You'll have to get the sequel to find out what happens!

[RiverNotch]

Sorry about the courier. I write via notepad, and the little concrete deals I try to structure my poem with get messed up in a different font, particularly line length.


3000 in Technicolor (Hard Meat Worry)


see, i don't think anyone else
remembers this, not the way
i do, not the way
i used to jive
before i knew
what jive
or stank
or funk
or cultural appropriation
even was, not the way
i learned about jazz
and blues
through ice
and blueberries
and smooth smooth clarinet
and the quirky way she strung
her violin. 
            they say true love
never ages, only the actors age,
the stage creaks, the themes grow
offensive, and the verse imprisons
until the story's depth is undercut
by a comic hit of clarity -- but of course
you don't really care about all that,
huntress wizard,
the way you sleep like a log
(literally) every night, the way your eyes
always face forward, the way you leave everyone behind
(like me) until your story's depth is undercut
by you dying of old age
alone.
       what exactly do you want
from that old cat of yours?
one last blinding hit of blue
to kiss your worries away?

[Todd]

The Other Half of the Battle
 
is the grin beneath
your mirrored faceplate.
Sun Tzu would have seen
the irony in my artless approach.
Knowing is the cobra’s sway
before the strike,
the flash of lightning,
and the whole
of battle—not the half.
I weep that before I rose
from this table, I had already lost.
You have given me Slaughter
and little else.

[Tracy Mitchell]

Wile E. Coyote
goofy-as-fuck self-mentoring

master of hair-brained schemes
to squash and murdalate.

Lord paramount purchaser
of Acme Everything.

Vainglorious crackerjack commandant
of the eternal comeback

from the inevitable result of every
flash of brilliance - the flash of

explosions in his face – so yeah –
The modern-day Sargent Domo

of every face-explosion . . .
and now, leader of the Free World.

[Lizzie]

daddy, i love her

she should have hooked up
with the voluptuous octopus

if she really wanted to stick it
to that pitchforked sonofabitch

[Todd]

Wile E. Coyote
goofy-as-fuck self-mentoring

master of hair-brained schemes
to squash and murdalate.

Lord paramount purchaser
of Acme Everything.

Vainglorious crackerjack commandant
of the eternal comeback

from the inevitable result of every
flash of brilliance - the flash of

explosions in his face – so yeah –
The modern-day Sargent Domo

of every face-explosion . . .
and now, leader of the Free World.

Murdalate (love that)...nice twist at the end, Teagan.

[dukealien]

My Hero!


Apple-cheeked
(hell, apple-headed)
corncob pipe clenched irremovably
ferocious squint that spoke
of scanning far horizons or
rope-ends and fists
bow-legs not from sagebrush horses
but eternal sea-legs
anchors tattooed
on the forearms.

Forearms!  Forty years
of pulling ropes
sheeting home
round turns on belaying pins
and capstan quadrilles
packed those brachioradialises
although the happy musics of his pipe
in animated scenes
betoken steam and boilers
but a stoker?  Never!
(Well, hardly ever.)

Jolly chucklehead
not always smart, obedient
slow to fury but
when triggered by combatants like
bristly Bluto, Sea Hag, or
Imperial Japanese Navy
his righteous anger served out
fists of steel and dynamite.

And he was green
in his own way, raw or mainly canned
loaded with iron and, my doctor said
oxalic acid which endows
not strength but kidney stones
like mine.  Stay off the stuff?
No dice, doc.  I’ll chomp spinach
like my hero - what’s a little groaning
mortal agony?  Arf, arf!

HT to Segar and Fleischer

[Donald Q.]

I struggled with this one, firstly because I spent a fair while trying to decide what my favorite animation was, secondly because I spent way too long trying to write a Venture Bros poem and thirdly because I was (ironically) distracted by a new episode of Ricky and Morty. So I have only a lazy poem to offer;


Ooo

Bomb drops
Candy pops

[Leanne]

The Ghost Who Walks

The best lies are the truths
no-one believes; that you were just a man,
like your father and his, back
as far as a purple suit could stretch. That
the eyes in the skull were just holes
in a mountain, caves that you filled
with your family.  

And that the quest for revenge 
will keep you alive.

[kolemath]

Nerd
 
When I grow up,
I want to be a ninja.
A ninja Donatello or Spider Man.
Donatello makes computers
and Spider Man lives at home with his aunt.
I would get bad guys and eat pizza,
take pictures and play with my chemistry set.
Yeah, being a ninja would be great.

[RiverNotch]

Magic Man

Magic man got magic,
                     madness,
                              sadness
in his hat, got the power
                     to fill up with color
                              all the white space
                              his dead margles left behind,
                     to manipulate lives
                              with existential inquiries
                              on the nature of time,
                     the persistence of memory,
the value of a sandwich.
Now consider how I risk cliche
                     by insisting we're all like him
                              when in truth we're not:
                     it's true, we've ids
                              and broken egos,
it's true we've got his power too,
                     just that we're real --
                              the man from mars is not,
                     and it's our very madness that dictates
                              magic is for kids
and cartoons don't mean shit.

[QDeathstar]

H.

Mother turned on the tv
set the remote too high
then turned out the lights.

Recliner formed a cacoon
protecting me from the
chill of her last needle.

Cartoons deafened the noise
of dad finding her face down
drowning in vomich.

[Franklin'sMan]

Wanted: fry cook

ArghGhGhGhGhGh!
Amen.
The avatar descends
established in Bikinic mysteries
and sacred hymns.
Deny cyclopic wiles!
With spatuler drive back the beast,
deny to him his prize!
Fry the Krabby patties.
Serve with extra fries.
For this miraculous task you’ve come
-- square and Holy.

[Tiger the Lion]

Leaks
 
(an excerpt)
 
(-shuffling sounds-)
 
“they’re sneaky little
burrito-eating
siesta-taking
rodents in sombreros
shouting ‘Holy Frijoles’
every time
we send ‘em packing.
 
We’ll make the real money
repairing the wall.”
 
(-dialogue ends-)