The Microwave Method of Writing Poetry by Starving Poet

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While I’m off for a much needed three-day vacation (can’t afford a full week), guest poet, Starving Poet, (definitely not back by popular demand) has graciously offered (more like begged) to fill in for me. Disclaimer: The following views expressed by Starving Poet are not necessarily those held by PoeticMeditation and is not responsible for them.

Hey everybody. It’s me, Starving Poet (not really starving, yet). I’ve been graciously asked by PoeticMeditations to fill in (it helps that I buy a woodblock print notecard now and then). PM suggested I write my own blog, but, hey, why bother with all the hassle of writing and maintaining one when I can simply crash on somebody’s elses? Which brings me to the idea behind this post. Allow me to digress. The other day, while microwaving my favorite Lean Cuisine (does this qualify as a product endorsement?) dinner: lasagna, I had an epiphanous moment: just as you can avoid all the fuss and bother with preparing a lasagna dinner from scratch by simply buying a microwaveable one, why not avoid all the fuss, bother, hard work and skill of writing a poem by simply taking someone else’s poem and changing a word or phrase here and there to make it your own? Viola! The Microwave Method of Writing Poetry was born. To demonstrate how it works, I’ll write one while actually sitting here at the keyboard. The only editing I’ll do is to spellcheck it (poor spelling is a sure sign of an amateur/hack). First, I’ll choose a poem (the more famous the better) that I know from memory (to avoid the hassle of having to look it up), for instance, Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Now I simply take the poem and make a few changes. Here we go.

PAUSING BY A COPSE ON A RAINY SUNDAY

Whose copse is this I think I know
His condo is in the town though
He will not see me pausing here
To watch his copse fill up with rain.

My little dog must think it queer
To pause without a fire hydrant near
Between the copse and parking lot
The wettest evening of the year.

He gives his collar bell a shake
Then barks to ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound’s the wind
And patter of the dreary rain.

The copse is lovely, dark and deep.
But I have appointments I have to keep
And several emails to text before I sleep
And several emails to text before I sleep.

Ta-dah! What might have taken Frost weeks or months (or even years) to compose, I did in a couple of minutes *. Not only that, I feel that I actually improved on the original just like that little old lady in Borja, Spain who tried to retore that damaged 19th century fresco and thinking it now looks much better. Hey, it’s become quite a tourist attraction. Now I’ll go post my poem in the commments section of some poetry column to feel like a published poet. Till next time (maybe).

* A gentle reader has pointed out my faulty memory, so I googled Frost’s poem and added and changed several lines which took me a total of three additional minutes (including the googling time.) Starving Poet

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