[New-Poetry] Humorous

Sun Jan 28 10:59:55 EST 2007

I love it!  I¹m impressed by your description of the project you put
yourself to.  The resulting episode you¹re posted here was a fun (and
well-written) read.  People rely on sex as humor so often, it¹s nice to read
a poem that tilts that off center and goes at it from a different direction

On 1/27/07 6:39 PM, "TheOldMole" <tad at opus40.org> wrote:

> OK, I'll toss one into the ring. I'll give a little history on it. This is
> from my novel in verse, "Situations." I originally wrote "Situations" as what
> I called an epic newsletter -- a mock epic, in newsletter format, sent out to
> about 100 subscribers. I wrote it from week to week, taking each weekly
> inspiration from that week's one-sentence synopses of four TV sitcoms in the
> Daily News. Which meant that from week to week, I didn't know where my plot
> was going, or which of my characters would move to center stage.
> When I was on episode 14, and thinking that I would wrap the whole thing up in
> just a few more episodes, I arrived at a plot twist which involved an orgy.
>  
> After I'd finished writing it, I decided it had been too easy, and too much
> fun to write, so I needed to give myself more of a challenge. So I wrote in a
> pledge -- no more sex scenes:
>  
>  
> We've reached our story's pornographic climax.
> From here on for our heroes, sex is fini.
> They're on to quantum, quarks and metaphysics;
> The Major's limp as overcooked linguini,
>  
> I sent this on to my subscribers, and was therefore committed to it, but I
> figured that would be easy enough, since I was only going to do a few more.
> Then I mentioned the project to a friend, more of a classicist than myself,
> who said, Oh, no, if it's an epic, it has to have 24 chapters. So...who was I
> to argue? But that meant I had to avoid sex for 10 more episodes.
>  
> How hard could it be? I'd just switch to violence -- it was time to kill off a
> few characters, anyway.
>  
> But then I got a letter from a woman named Fiona Giles, telling me that
> Michael Hathaway at Chiron Review had recommended me for a project she was
> doing. She had edited a successful anthology called Dick for a Day: What Would
> You Do If You Had One?, and was following it up with a companion anthology of
> writing by men, to be called Jane for a Day -- ultimately it came out as Chick
> for a Day. Did I have anything for it?
>  
> Well, I didn't, but what if The Major, the main character of Situations, were
> to have a temporary sex change operation? it could work...but I had already
> promised "no sex" to my readers. So I had to finesse around that -- a sex
> change operation, but no actual sex.
>  
> So...here's how it came out. The first line, in italics, actually went as
> left-hand-margin gloss, in the style of Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and was
> one of my TV sitcom synopses.
>  
>  
>  
>  
> Episode XVII
>  
> The Major wants to adopt the girls.
> 
>  
> The Major in retirement: he plays
> Checkers on the Internet; he melts
> Bullets to make lead soldiers (Green Berets);
> He mostly wishes he were someone else.
>  
> He joins blue-veined Elizabeth at rest;
> As if he¹d never seen them, he explores
> Her female parts, and says, ³I¹d wish for just
> One day to try out those girl things of yours.²
>  
> ³Dear Major,² says Elizabeth, ³You might
> Be just a bit more circumspect with wishes.
> No reason why it shouldn't be all right,
> But you could still be under one of Trisha¹s
>  
> Long shelf-life spells.² He chuckles, ²I don't think so.²
> He gets up, dons his military costume,
> Heads for the door. ²Sweetheart, before you go,²
> She says, ²you¹d better use the little boy's room.²
>  
> He notes, with absent-minded irritation,
> The seat's left up (not heretofore an issue).
> He lowers it, prepares for urination
> By sitting down and reaching for a tissue.
>  
> This can't be right! He rises to attention,
> Does an about face to address the bowl.
> He reaches for his natural extension,
> Comes up a good five inches less than whole.
>  
> SoŠis The Major shocked by this? Well, sort of.
> His masculinity is so ingrained,
> He has to let it sink in what he's short of
> Before he stops to check out what he's gained.
>  
> Elizabeth was right‹he's been possessed.
> He starts to call her, then opts for discretion.
> This may be better kept close to the chest.
> Speaking of whichŠhe checks. Yep, more possession.
>  
> He tells her that he's not to be disturbed;
> He's working on his keynote for the Legion.
> His curiosity now won't be curbed,
> He heads directly for his nether region.
>  
> He sits and stares, and wonders what to do with it.
> He runs through all his fantasies of lust,
> But now he's not so sure he could go through with it‹
> He doubts he'd find a man that he could trust.
>  
> He thinks he'd better take it for a test drive.
> He gives himself encomia: who comes
> With more technique than he has for a nest dive?
> To his dismay, he finds himself all thumbs.
>  
> No matter how he presses, pokes, cajoles,
> He gets no more response than from a teapot.
> He keeps on getting lost among the folds;
> Where is his clitoris? Does he have a G-spot?
>  
> Too bad he can't do what he does with engines;
> He'd brace it upright on his workbench, fix
> It in a vise, go at it with a vengeance,
> Dismantle it to find out how it ticks.
>  
> There's got to be an Army training manual.
> He grabs the phone and dials the PX.
> He requisitions the updated annual
> GI edition Girl's First Guide To Sex,
>  
> Delivered after twenty minutes waiting
> By a demure corporal. He starts
> At Section Ten Point Seven: Masturbating,
> Complete with checklist, diagrams and charts.
>  
> Maybe this thing's got more complexity
> Than what you would have thought‹to get a handle
> He'll need to study‹this calls for chablis,
> A bubble bath, Patchouli, and a candle.
>  
> Cigar among the bubbles, hand in air
> Poking his laptop, number-crunching, poring
> Through techno-intricacies, unaware
> The other hand is in his lap, exploring.
>  
> Subject: apparent female organs. Status:
> On standby. Tentative conclusion: freak
> Malfunction due to faulty apparatus.
> The Major knows it can't be his technique‹
>  
> All the chicks tell him he's the best. Blue-veined
> Elizabeth has hailed him as the master
> (Hasn't she?) Etienne's never complained,
> though, come to think of it, he's never asked her.
>  
> Musing, he's caught off guard by a sensation
> That spills his Merlot, sends his laptop crashing.
> His unfamiliar part's a conflagration,
> He's howling, sobbing, moaning, flailing, thrashing.
>  
> ²Dearest,² Elizabeth calls out, ²are you
> All right?² just as he's on his final spasm.
> ²Yes, my sweet one,² he croaks. ²I stubbed my toe
> Against the sink.² Now, that was an orgasm.
>  
> Those women have it made, with guys like me
> To do 'em. Then a troubling, if belated
> Further reflection: Wha'd I do, exactly?
> Don't even know if I could recreate it.
>  
> Male ego fast succumbing to fragility,
> Acute self-doubt arising to befuddle him,
> He questions the existence of virility,
> And wishes he had someone there to cuddle him.
>  
> Time's running out, and still he hasn't tried it,
> And still he's of two minds‹it seems to work;
> Shouldn't he try once with a man inside it?
> He doesn't want to waste it on some jerk,
>  
> Precious as gold, or frankincense, or jasmine,
> Not to be given up without a fight;
> And yetŠhe wants the world to know he has oneŠ
> He grabs a raincoat, drives into the night.
>  
> He parks his car outside the VFW,
> He stops a group of sailors as they climb
> The front steps: ²Fellas, I don't mean to trouble you,
> But check this out!² He hears the church bells chime
>  
> The stroke of midnight. Now, rather than tangled
> Exotic bush, to his dismay, he sees
> The same thing they do: what has always dangled
> In its familiar spot, fanned by the breeze.
>  
>               *                         *                      *
>  
> As per their ritual, Elizabeth
> Waits for her Major to begin his foreplay
> With some great tale of how he cheated death
> With Monty, or the ski patrols of Norway.
>  
> She waits demurely in her flannel nightie.
> ²Surely there's some brave deed you haven't told me
> To get you hard, my darling?² ²Not tonight,² he
> Grunts. Then, in softer tones, ²Just hold me.²
>  
>  
>>  
>> ----- Original Message -----
>>  
>> From:  SLIDINGSCA at aol.com
>>  
>> To: new-poetry at wiz.cath.vt.edu
>>  
>> Sent: Saturday, January 27, 2007 4:10  PM
>>  
>> Subject: Re: [New-Poetry] Humorous
>>  
>> 
>>  
>>  
>> In a message dated 1/27/2007 4:02:35 PM Eastern Standard Time,
>> amyhappens at yahoo.com writes:
>>  
>>>  
>>> Who actually wrote this withered vagina  poem?
>>  
>>  
>> Amy,
>>  
>>  
>>  
>> This very politically correct poem is mine. If there is anyone that the  poem
>> does not offend, I have not earned the right to my pub in Poetry.
>>  
>> -Larissa
>>  
>>  
>>  
>> Larissa  Shmailo slidingsca at aol.com <mailto:slidingsca at aol.com>
>> http://www.myspace.com/larissaworld
>> http//:www.cdbaby.com/cd/shmailo
>> http//:larissashmailo.blogspot.com
>> http://www.bigbridge.org/deathlshmailo.htm
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  
>> 
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> 
> 
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