Odd Inspirations

[WickedEve]

What weird, whacky, insane, maybe disturbing, even frightful things have inspired your poetry?

A few days ago, I ran over a... I don't think it was a cat. It was small and yellow and fluffy. I heard the thud, crunch, squish. Then I saw a flash of yellow run into the bushes. I couldn't find it. I'm sure it died. No way I could live with running over a kitty, so I went home and googled yellow squirrel. Yes, there are yellow squirrels in Afghanistan. I'm not sure how one ended up in Virginia, but I'm sure I ran over an Afghani squirrel. Sad but I can live with it. I'm going to write a poem about a squirrel, who comes to America and meets the underside of a little, red Honda.

 

[Angeline]

What weird, whacky, insane, maybe disturbing, even frightful things have inspired your poetry?

A few days ago, I ran over a... I don't think it was a cat. It was small and yellow and fluffy. I heard the thud, crunch, squish. Then I saw a flash of yellow run into the bushes. I couldn't find it. I'm sure it died. No way I could live with running over a kitty, so I went home and googled yellow squirrel. Yes, there are yellow squirrels in Afghanistan. I'm not sure how one ended up in Virginia, but I'm sure I ran over an Afghani squirrel. Sad but I can live with it. I'm going to write a poem about a squirrel, who comes to America and meets the underside of a little, red Honda.

Nothing expecially weird or wacky. I usually just put on some music and start writing. I almost always write with music playing (jazz or classical; can't concentrate if there's singing--words--though). I often get ideas for poems when I'm driving. Must be something about the trancelike quality of long drives.

And I stare out my window at the deck a lot, thinking about poems. Sometimes I see squirrels out there. And crows, wild turkeys, a mommy fox and her kits once. The pine trees inspire me. My bedroom window (the computer sits on a desk in front of it) looks out on the beginning of a pine forest, which is why pine trees show up in my poems all the time.

 

[WickedEve]

Nothing expecially weird or wacky. I usually just put on some music and start writing. I almost always write with music playing (jazz or classical; can't concentrate if there's singing--words--though). I often get ideas for poems when I'm driving. Must be something about the trancelike quality of long drives.

And I stare out my window at the deck a lot, thinking about poems. Sometimes I see squirrels out there. And crows, wild turkeys, a mommy fox and her kits once. The pine trees inspire me. My bedroom window (the computer sits on a desk in front of it) looks out on the beginning of a pine forest, which is why pine trees show up in my poems all the time.

Well, that's not odd. lol
But there is poetry everywhere, in what we see and hear, in the simplest of things, not just squirrels.

 

[Angeline]

Well, that's not odd. lol
But there is poetry everywhere, in what we see and hear, in the simplest of things, not just squirrels.

What I find odd is that apparently we are the only ones here who are inspired when we write poems. Apparently. Lol.

PS Have you heard about Chefzilla's Kitchen?

 

[The_Fool]

One of my favorite forms of inspiration is just reading or hearing a phrase that offers something beyond the obvious.

Either that or a really cute butt.

 

[Senna Jawa]

What weird, whacky, insane, maybe disturbing, even frightful things have inspired your poetry?

A few days ago, I ran over a... I don't think it was a cat. It was small and yellow and fluffy. [...] I'm going to write a poem about a squirrel, who comes to America and meets the underside of a little, red Honda.

Good luck, Eve!

A truck driver drinks one and another. The bartender wonders - man, what's the problem? The driver asks - tell me buddy, can a penguin be this tall? And he positions the palm of his hand three feet above the floor. The bartender doubts it - may be, but it'd be a large one. The man orders - gimmee another one! He drinks and asks again - what about this tall?, and this time his hand is four feet above the floor. Hardly at all - the bartender reacts. The man orders another one. He is now really depressed - but can't a penguin be this tall?, and his hand is four and a half feet above the ground. That would make Guinness Record Book! reacts the bartender instantaneously. Oh my gush! Another one!!! - the man drinks and asks one more time - tell me buddy, please, I beg you, can't somehow a penguin be this tall? you know..., and he shows five feet level. The bartender had enough of it and tells the driver straight: No way, man! Forget it!. The driver exclaims in his drunken stupor - Oh my God, I ran over a nun!

 

[normal jean]

What weird, whacky, insane, maybe disturbing, even frightful things have inspired your poetry?

A few days ago, I ran over a... I don't think it was a cat. It was small and yellow and fluffy. I heard the thud, crunch, squish. Then I saw a flash of yellow run into the bushes. I couldn't find it. I'm sure it died. No way I could live with running over a kitty, so I went home and googled yellow squirrel. Yes, there are yellow squirrels in Afghanistan. I'm not sure how one ended up in Virginia, but I'm sure I ran over an Afghani squirrel. Sad but I can live with it. I'm going to write a poem about a squirrel, who comes to America and meets the underside of a little, red Honda.

frogs, roadkill, possums, possums in bathtubs, death, dying, ghosts, food, lots of things.... but the thought of what there is and isn't, what can and cannot be, things that we can never know for sure if they are or aren't.

i believe in an afterlife but i hope my poetry doesn't follow me for eternity, hanging on my coattails like an ousted republican.

oh, and you, eve, have always inspired me.

 

[sassynyc]

This isn't especially odd, but it qualifies. I was reading a story here, by none other than, our resident chef. "Jeffrey's First Time". One scene stood out in particular. He describes working at a fresh fruit market chopping slightly banged up produce to make salads, etc., to minimize waste/maximize profit. Loving to cook as I do, this stuck with me. It not only stuck, it grew roots. Turned into a poem. A poem entirely about food, and nothing to do with a "first time" or sex at all. I ended up using the poem to kick off a thread here (The Alchemist Lab).
Quite a stretch down the road from the story where this all starts. You never know what wind inspiration will blow in on, but aren't you glad when it does?

 

[colddiesel]

Solid marsupial.

My daughter hit a wombat with her Honda

The car a write off- The Wombat walked away.

There's a poem in that somewhere!

 

[WickedEve]

My daughter hit a wombat with her Honda

The car a write off- The Wombat walked away.

There's a poem in that somewhere!

Oh, I'm trying not to laugh...

 

[WickedEve]

What I find odd is that apparently we are the only ones here who are inspired when we write poems. Apparently. Lol.

PS Have you heard about Chefzilla's Kitchen?

I clicked on the link and saw Drizzling Syrup, then closed the window before I went into a diabetic coma. lol

 

[WickedEve]

One of my favorite forms of inspiration is just reading or hearing a phrase that offers something beyond the obvious.

Either that or a really cute butt.

I'm always writing down things that I hear people say. Never know when it'll work in a poem. The last thing I wrote down was "hyena mama." My child thought I was laughing too much.

 

[WickedEve]

Good luck, Eve!

A truck driver drinks one and another. The bartender wonders - man, what's the problem? The driver asks - tell me buddy, can a penguin be this tall? And he positions the palm of his hand three feet above the floor. The bartender doubts it - may be, but it'd be a large one. The man orders - gimmee another one! He drinks and asks again - what about this tall?, and this time his hand is four feet above the floor. Hardly at all - the bartender reacts. The man orders another one. He is now really depressed - but can't a penguin be this tall?, and his hand is four and a half feet above the ground. That would make Guinness Record Book! reacts the bartender instantaneously. Oh my gush! Another one!!! - the man drinks and asks one more time - tell me buddy, please, I beg you, can't somehow a penguin be this tall? you know..., and he shows five feet level. The bartender had enough of it and tells the driver straight: No way, man! Forget it!. The driver exclaims in his drunken stupor - Oh my God, I ran over a nun!

I know how he feels.

 

[WickedEve]

frogs, roadkill, possums, possums in bathtubs, death, dying, ghosts, food, lots of things.... but the thought of what there is and isn't, what can and cannot be, things that we can never know for sure if they are or aren't.

i believe in an afterlife but i hope my poetry doesn't follow me for eternity, hanging on my coattails like an ousted republican.

oh, and you, eve, have always inspired me.

Possums in bathtubs... uh huh... I know we must be related. lol
You inspire me, too!

 

[WickedEve]

This isn't especially odd, but it qualifies. I was reading a story here, by none other than, our resident chef. "Jeffrey's First Time". One scene stood out in particular. He describes working at a fresh fruit market chopping slightly banged up produce to make salads, etc., to minimize waste/maximize profit. Loving to cook as I do, this stuck with me. It not only stuck, it grew roots. Turned into a poem. A poem entirely about food, and nothing to do with a "first time" or sex at all. I ended up using the poem to kick off a thread here (The Alchemist Lab).
Quite a stretch down the road from the story where this all starts. You never know what wind inspiration will blow in on, but aren't you glad when it does?

That is cool. You never know where a poem is lurking.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Yup. *nods*

My commute is in the country and i see lots of dead varmints, and it's a subject I've been trying really hard to be poetic about for, god, I dunno, twenty years. No luck yet.

I remember an assignment, way back in college, in which we were told to write about a "non-poetic" topic. The poems that came in were pretty awesome, actually. Taking out the trash, wasps, even kitty litter. I do remember one woman wrote an incredible piece called "Daddy cuts his nails" about watching and learning to understand her father when she was a little girl. It was excellent. Funny the stuff you remember.

I don't remember what I wrote, but I bet it was about dead animals on the side of the road, and I bet it sucked.

bj

 

[normal jean]

Yup. *nods*

My commute is in the country and i see lots of dead varmints, and it's a subject I've been trying really hard to be poetic about for, god, I dunno, twenty years. No luck yet.

I remember an assignment, way back in college, in which we were told to write about a "non-poetic" topic. The poems that came in were pretty awesome, actually. Taking out the trash, wasps, even kitty litter. I do remember one woman wrote an incredible piece called "Daddy cuts his nails" about watching and learning to understand her father when she was a little girl. It was excellent. Funny the stuff you remember.

I don't remember what I wrote, but I bet it was about dead animals on the side of the road, and I bet it sucked.

bj

aww, girl, come on!! Eve and I have showcased our roadkill poems, I even had one titled, A poem as Roadkill, see if I can find it for you, it was actually pretty good.

how about...show me yers and I'll show you mine

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Well I'll dig around, but honestly, none of them were even good enough to make it out of a journal and into the typed-in files I've got on the computer. I gave up many years ago on that one.

That doesn't mean you shouldn't show me yours, though!

bj

 

[normal jean]

Well I'll dig around, but honestly, none of them were even good enough to make it out of a journal and into the typed-in files I've got on the computer. I gave up many years ago on that one.

That doesn't mean you shouldn't show me yours, though!

bj

I'm looking right now.

Mostly what I am finding are some of Maria's poems she deleted after that geezer stole her yahoo ID's. anyway..... I know I have it printed out somewhere. It's funny to read work you wrote a long time ago and think, damn, did I write this??

some of us here call that a poetry trance, but I am not naming names

 

[WickedEve]

aww, girl, come on!! Eve and I have showcased our roadkill poems, I even had one titled, A poem as Roadkill, see if I can find it for you, it was actually pretty good.

how about...show me yers and I'll show you mine

Oh goodness... I do have dead animal poems.
I'm going to look for them.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

wasps masturbating with orchids

This inspired a poem I wrote recently in the Suddenly thread. Sometimes it is advertising campaigns, or things that scratch the album of my personal narrative.

 

[normal jean]

This inspired a poem I wrote recently in the Suddenly thread. Sometimes it is advertising campaigns, or things that scratch the album of my personal narrative.

Those orchids remind me of Champ

I read the article, and this stuck out, lol.

""Insects pollinating Australian tongue orchids (Cryptostylis species) frequently ejaculate and waste copious sperm,"

let us hope and prey that no sperm were wasted in the writing of any poems,

cool link, PG

 

[Angeline]

This isn't especially odd, but it qualifies. I was reading a story here, by none other than, our resident chef. "Jeffrey's First Time". One scene stood out in particular. He describes working at a fresh fruit market chopping slightly banged up produce to make salads, etc., to minimize waste/maximize profit. Loving to cook as I do, this stuck with me. It not only stuck, it grew roots. Turned into a poem. A poem entirely about food, and nothing to do with a "first time" or sex at all. I ended up using the poem to kick off a thread here (The Alchemist Lab).
Quite a stretch down the road from the story where this all starts. You never know what wind inspiration will blow in on, but aren't you glad when it does?

I read your post then went and read the story. Oh my. <fans self>

And I got a pretty good giggle over a comment on the story (or maybe it's Cheffy's other story here) chastising him for using bad "grammer." It wasn't a typo; I saw it repeated three or four times "blah blah blah your grammer and blah blah if you had better grammer blah blah watch your grammer..." Maybe she meant his grandmother although my grammer was never bad. I did have to watch her once she hit her 90s though.

 

[WickedEve]

I read your post then went and read the story. Oh my. <fans self>

Hot flashes?

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Those orchids remind me of Champ

I read the article, and this stuck out, lol.

""Insects pollinating Australian tongue orchids (Cryptostylis species) frequently ejaculate and waste copious sperm,"

let us hope and prey that no sperm were wasted in the writing of any poems,

cool link, PG

Funny thing about tongues.

Thanks, Jean. Glad you enjoyed it.