The Pyrenees---Southern France

The Pyrenees---Southern France

Sunday, July 22, 2012

You're a Poet...And You Might Not Even Know It

          Fireblossom was asked to tell 7 things about herself. Instead of noting things like she loves Bolthouse Farms Vanilla Chai Tea (she does), or she has a wonder dog named Bosco (she does), or she loves the color red (she does indeed), she wrote a gorgeous poem.

         No simple, numbered list. No bulleted bits of information. No, that would have been waaaaaaay too easy for Fireblossom.

        So I'm going to ask anyone who happens upon this post to write a poem telling us something about yourself. It could be a couplet, it could be haiku, it could be a free verse poem, it could be a limerick...the possibilities are endless. 

        Then, read her poem. And gnash your teeth over it. I know I am...

        (Here's mine:)

You really want to know 'bout Sioux?
You want it false or want it true?
She's gotta hard head,
Under hair that's fake red,
And loves tragic movies--who knew?

Now it's your turn...


  1. I am still laughing over collecting cobwebs.

    I guess I could have written "I love Emmylou Harris" 7 times...

    1. Yes, I was aghast that Emmylou did not make an appearance. If the officials find out, you might lose your position as president of her fan club. You'd better watch out!

  2. So was that the false version or the true? Both your fiction and nonfiction are entertaining!

    1. It's the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me lard.

  3. Once upon a noontime recent, reading blogs I found half-decent,
    I saw that Sioux requested us to write a poem about our likes.
    "Yay!" I shouted, loudly spouted, "Here's some ME-stuff to be flouted!
    I shall be one highly touted, touted for my strong dislikes.
    I can write a poem, watch me. I will show the doubting shrikes.
    I can bring it down the pikes."

    Then I noticed no one busted out the rhymes for which Sioux lusted.
    Like coffee houses without poets, sad and silent open mikes.
    Silence is said to be golden, but a poet Sioux is moldin',
    Little cat feet do embolden toddling as in tiny tykes.
    Breathtaking, some call my effort...others simply holler, "Yikes!
    Garbage coming down the pikes!"

    1. Val--

      Thank you for the poem. to...gasp for a breath, after reading your poem.

      I've got to work on a craft project, so I'm going to log off. I'm going to slip some beads down on the pipe(cleaner).

  4. I've been reading Fireblossom for a while; my teeth have been gnashed to bits!

    1. Mama Zen--I've only been reading Fireblossom's work for a couple of years and already, I'm wearing a complete set of dentures. My original teeth--reduced to powder

  5. Linda--

    Au contraire. My life is an open book--especially on Wednesday evenings...


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