O you wobbling brown rounds of new-fried dough,
Piled like a decade of harvest moons
All in one evening sky-- you tempt me so!
I envy e'en the plate on which you soon
Will rest with grace; see how it salivates,
Soapy water dripping off the plastic.
For you, you fluffy temptresses, I'll wait
Out ceremony, enthusiastic,
Yet mindful ever of my place. I must
Not once devour you right off the pan,
But rather should conquer the flame of lust,
And savor your sweet glory through the span
Of morning, till the syrup on my teeth
Congeals into thirty golden sheaths.
[A/N: The poem that was here has been removed for further work in my secret laboratory of Awesomeness. You may, however, feel free to take a stab at this one, though it is only straw.]
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140,699 Literary Works • 673,672 Reviews
I haven't read the other comments, but I don't care if I might be repeating everyone else: all I've got to say is -
Hilarious.
I think 'Ode to Pancakes' is a title that would make me want to read the poem immediately, and the poem more than lived up to its name. I love how you go on and on about them, but still make it sound so interesting.
Ha! Cute! It reminds me of a sonnet I once read...I an't remember the name of it, but it was by Shel Silverstien and was about spaghetti. Anyway, you should do more! This was completely awesome! ~Cheez_Burger~
Awesome poem! I think its really cool that you would be able to write something that good about pancakes. It's also kind of insane, at least in my opinion, that you managed to write something that long and detailed about pancakes without getting repetitive. I don't think I'd manage to get anything longer than a haiku
. All in all, great job! I really enjoyed it, and I'm giving you a gold star for the awesomeness of the subject!
Also, I think I'm going to have brinner (breakfast for dinner) tonight because of this! Yum...
This was very interesting, Helpful. It was extremely creative and it made my afternoon(now I want pancakes). You used good descriptions and images to help me see these amazing pancakes. Good job, I can't really say anything else because I know nothing about how to write sonnets. But I will give you star
~peanut~
Hi, I'm Grin and I will be your reviewer for today
I loved this. Sunday pancakes are the essence of life and are yet so often overlooked! I especially liked the way you continued your lines in new verses. That's a really interesting idea that I've only come across once or twice before, and usually it doesn't work, but this has been done really well.
The only nitpick I can think of is that you've described the pancakes as "fluffy". I know it's a cookery term, but it often insinuates mould. Maybe another word would be better - I'm sure there's plenty.
Thanks for posting this, it made my day
~Grin
pancakes!
(thank you so much you guys you guys)
Haha, I like the twist at the end, I really enjoyed it.
And the rhythem seems okay to me.
Also I did like how you built up to an "OMG I love you poem" thing,sort of, but then twisted it.
Grrr... Well thats I have to say. Sorry.
Clever! I quite liked this.
A star for you!
The main problem is that the words don't run together smoothly. It's a little hard to describe, so just read it out loud. For instance, in the first line, bleached and beach are jarring together. And there are more examples, but you can find them when you read it out loud. You'll have to rearrange things so it can run more smoothly, mind you, but it'll be better in the long run. Sonnets, as horrible as they can be to write, still need to flow nicely in their very strict format. That's why Shakespeare is a genius.
However, I love the content. A new twist on Shakespeare... what's not to love? And I love the narrator of the poem. He's so twisted and demented... got to love that!
Hi Helpful McHelpfulpants,
A sonnet, eh?
Part of the problem with these things is that in the struggle to synchronize syllables and bestow the semblance of a kind of consistency, as sonnets require, the poem starts to become too tedious and formulaic to hold any sort of enjoyment or meaning whatsoever for the reader. A sonnet is a skilled thing deserving to be held only by like hands, and I did not see mastery and balance in this piece at all. Several phrases read awkwardly; try saying them aloud.
Too much concrete foundation holding up the building, and not enough building. Is, than, it, has, a, to, be. There's almost a complete dearth of meaning in this line, and you seem to do a sort of skip throughout the poem that's most unnerving, starting with this line. In some, you inundate them with beauty in both words and thought. In others, such as the above quoted one, you do the exact opposite, and it doesn't work. Balance out your destination and how you get to your destination, if I'm making sense right now.
As for the content...the title gives me pause. Yorick wasn't murdered, I don't think, and so you seem to be trying to connect something about that scene - most likely the theme of impending death and evanescence - to another event. There's guilt or at least an acknowledgment of imperfection: "in all my life, my only sin". The narrator is obviously looking into some sort of skull or even a living person, a person close to death or fragile in some way. I can't say what, though. If this isn't a personal poem and you intend for the audience to figure this out, it's not showing through even after several readings. Clarify it.
Hope that helped,
Galerius