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Examples of VanderPoetry

Jeff's a friend of mine from back in middle school, so when he asked me to provide the introduction to the poetry section of his author site, I said yes, even though I'm not really very fond of his poetry. In fact, in my opinion, Jeff shouldn't even have a poetry section. I guess he feels obligated because he won the University of Florida undergraduate writing award, The Michael J. Hauptman Award, for a poem called "The Ministry of Whimsy" and because he has been both a finalist for and a recipient of the International Rhysling Award. So he won a couple of awards? So he had a book of poetry published, pretentiously called Lyric of the Highway Mariner? So he used to go around quoting Baudelaire while wearing a red beret? So what? When I think of Jeff's poetry, I think of the behind-the-scenes stories. Like the fact that his Rhysling-finalist poem "Four Theories of Earth-Moon System Formation" not only sucked, but that he received a "D" in the college Astronomy class that inspired the poem. Or that he couldn't scan worth a damn. Or that he got a "B" in poetry class for arguing that the Violent Femmes lyrics were metered verse. Or that he once wrote a poem about roadkill. So, go ahead—read the poetry, but just remember, it's not his strong suit. Besides, he still owes me money.
- Jerome Chu

P.S. Jeff wanted me to make comments about the two poems he's included on the site, but I really have nothing to say about them. Any haiku that has to tell you it's a haiku is not worth reading…

UNTITLED

I squished the frog on the ground.
Icky, icky frog.
Winter comes.
(It's a haiku.)

MARIGOLD MORTALITY

In the fields of gold
where the marigolds parade their splendid heads
I trod my feet through thick and fen
to find the end of night again.

Those marigolds are like pure gold
and make me feel so very old.
They are just flowers in a field.
And yet what power they yield
to make me understand mortality
where booted foot crushes profundity.

The sky so blue it makes me cry
while the world spins round by and bye.
The house where once I stood
has been replaced by wood
that lives and breathes as plants will do--
once again I have lost my shoe.

We don't know why the marigolds scream
but the sound sends shivers cold as ice cream
down our backs and into our heads.
down our backs and into our heads.
And now we lay me down to beds.
Once I knew I would be caught
now I know I will be bought
by Mr Death the graveyard's son
who will forever displace my sun
and relieve the marigolds of their burden
that I might cease to rhyme,
at least this time.
Goodbye marigolds!