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Thursday, December 22, 2016 01:51 PM
Poems For Trump - Limerick 2
 by Fëanor

An entry in a series of poems about Donald Trump: #PoemsForTrump. Please feel free to join in! Use the hashtag and post your own limericks, haiku, sonnets, whatever, or even just post links to poems that make you think of Trump. Make the best of a bad situation by making/sharing art, and satirizing a terrible human at the same time.

The limerick form seems to work well for these, as they are short and traditionally filthy and mocking. Enjoy!



Says the creeper backstage as he spots her:
"Every year they get hotter and hotter!"
When the girl sees him spying
he just stands there crying,
"I swear I thought you were my daughter!"
Tagged (?): Poems For Trump (Not), Poetry (Not), Politics (Not)
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Wednesday, December 21, 2016 04:22 PM
(Last updated on Friday, December 23, 2016 10:44 AM)
Poems for Trump - The Jackal
 by Fëanor

An entry in a series of poems about Donald Trump: #PoemsForTrump. Please feel free to join in! Use the hashtag and post your own limericks, haiku, sonnets, whatever, or even just post links to poems that make you think of Trump. Make the best of a bad situation by making/sharing art, and satirizing a terrible human at the same time.

I already published this one in the poetry section of my site, but I wanted to post it again here, now that I've decided this should be a series.

Behind the poem: This wasn't in any particular poetic form; I let the form grow around the words, basically. It became a pseudo-sonnet, with a rhyming scheme that's similar to a Shakespearean sonnet, but with more lines. Also, the meter is anapestic tetrameter, and not the traditional iambic pentameter.



The Jackal or, At the Ceremony

At the fun'ral of truth, there were snickers and screams,

but no weeping at all. When the Jackal stood up

and he chewed up some words, they just split at the seams.

And his teeth were so white as he held up his cup —

when he toasted the body and drank his own health —

but his words were just gristle and sinew and flash.

"Have you seen this here suit? Though I say it myself,

it's fantastic, you know? Just the finest of flesh."

Setting cup on the corpse, he continued to speak:

"There's no body, you know. This is nonsense and lies.

I inherit, however." He wiped at a streak,

something red on his tie, while he swatted the flies.

"And a murderer? Me?" Then he laughed with a snort.

"Don't believe what you read... It's all mine now, by law,

you have given it freely. I'll prove it in court.

It is hate that makes right" — and he held up a claw —

"and it's might that makes cash. Only losers can die.

You all asked me to feed you, so turn up the lights.

On your right, on your left, have a look with your eyes —

they are fat, they are foreign; unlikely to fight."

And they licked at their lips and they said, "What a treat!"

And they all drew their blades and they started to eat.
Tagged (?): Poems For Trump (Not), Poetry (Not), Politics (Not)
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Monday, December 19, 2016 08:45 PM
(Last updated on Wednesday, December 21, 2016 04:16 PM)
A Limerick
 by Fëanor

An entry in a series of poems about Donald Trump: #PoemsForTrump. Please feel free to join in! Use the hashtag and post your own limericks, haiku, sonnets, whatever, or even just post links to poems that make you think of Trump. Make the best of a bad situation by making/sharing art, and satirizing a terrible human at the same time.



There once was a man from New York
who sold barrels and barrels of pork.
It was all second rate,
but he said, "This is great!"
So they made him the lord of the jerks.
Tagged (?): Poems For Trump (Not), Poetry (Not), Politics (Not)
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Welcome to the blog of Jim Genzano, writer, web developer, husband, father, and enjoyer of things like the internet, movies, music, games, and books. For a more detailed run-down of who I am and what goes on here, read this.

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