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Poetry bubble bursts for prospective genius
You don't have to confess it to anyone; I'm going
to do that. I simply ask you, in complete privacy:
How many of you have ever tried to write poetry?
Even if it was just a "My Mommy" valentine back in
third grade?
Of course, you all smile and say "Yes, but I'd
never let anyone read my poetry because it's so
.awful." Well, I write awful poetry, too, but I'm going
to lay it out right hero. I do it to demonstrate
jomething, but believe me, that doesn't make it any
l:ss painful
mark kielcboord
you hove my word
Writing poetry is hard work, and I find that my
poetry boils out of control and dribbles away into a
mess. For example, last month I got this idea for an
Ugly City poem, which every modern bard eventually
writes. It began well, but then grew demonically into
an ugly monster:
Dirt City
You hollow cicada-shell nine-to-five creeps
Tracking the concrete where Doublemint sleeps
The gray mangled beastie whose body you threw
Dragging you down by the sole of your shoe.
In my neoclassical phase I tried a sonnet, but as
the final couplet shows, sonnets were not designed
for this century: "Before this hour had sighed and
passed away There were a thousand words I'd to you
say."
I'm joking, of course, but I really have tried to
wrtte serious poetry. As with most people, the lines
which seemed superb during the initial inspiration
invariably looked ludicrous later. Alliterations which
rippled at midnight grew sluggish at noon.
I'm going to give you a genuine example of my
poetry, a brief work which I prized. Here it goes:
Light-colored Flame
I felt like the spirit of the dead waxwing,
Lying in the window-well, a broken thing.
Old Market to try filling 'theater gap'
Om.ilu'f, Old Market hos a
i w i h i o t"r--the R udyard
Motion Theater. Performing
li.tire is i new theater group,
ibe Nehroska Stale Repertory
' . ompany (N3RC).
Dwayne Ibsen, NSRC board
of directors member, said that
planninf) for the company
began about eight years ago.
hie said the company was
formed to "fill a gap in
Nebraska theater." NSRC will
present classical theater to the
people of Nebraska, he added.
The company, which
dedicated its theater Aug. 28,
will present nine plays this
season, i bscn said.
The" company's first
pioduclion, Oedipus, finished
its two-week run Sept. 23.
McArthur and Hecht's Front
Page will open Salurday.
Ibsen said that until the
company (jets established, all
performances will be in the
Norton Theater. After they are
hotter established, they plan to
take their productions on tour
in Nebraska and possibly in
Iowa, he said.
The theater is named in
honor of a long-time Omaha
area actor and director. Norton
bar. been active in theater in
Omaha Miict: 1921). working
with the Omaha Playhouse, the
Chanticleer theater in Council
Bluffs and promoting ballet
performances in Omaha.
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in the Fall.
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Serving Lincoln Since I 05
I 12V "O" SI KIM &. CM I WAY MAI I
OoyntiTocI Jfjwlf Amprltan (hti So;iJty
It was deceived by the glass
So it died in the grass;
it thought it could fly
Into picture-window sky.
Whew. There it is. Go ahead and laugh. Susan
Dodder, a gifted poet from North Dakota (who will
embarrassed to read this), studied that poem in
Nebraska Hall last week.
She has been patient with me, considering all the
times I've asked her to read my work, but this time
she iooked me in the eye and opened fire. "I felt
like," "died in the grass," "lying in," "thought,"
everything was wrong, she said, and she explained and
explained. Light-colored Flame went out with a puff
of foul-smelling smoke.
I'm not a master poet. Even so, I cherished a
fantasy of genius that only unwanted truth could
destroy. We all cherish fantasies like that once in a
while, believing that we could outpass David Humm if
we really tried, play like Glenn Gould with a little
oractice or flatten Muhammad AH with a supreme
?f fort. When someone reminds you that you can't, it
uirts. But those fantasies are harmless and fun.
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NOW IN IT'S 3RD GREAT WEEK
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W TOM'S BAWDY NEW X-RATED HIT !
I Su'i c w.is .i young man named Jones,
who couM turn a girl's sighs into moans.
Bui let it he known,
that some of these moans
nuiy belong to the very same Jones
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At 11 1 -05-3:10 -5:15-:0'.l:?r-11:30
page 9
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