Professor Roy and the Amazingly Bad Poetry (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} reallybadpoetry) wrote,@ 2008-02-18 15:55:00 |
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ABPJ Review - Lonely Dancer
Lonely Dancer
by Jack; unknown location
She walks across the empty floor
as though the world has ended
Another night has made its rounds,
she still goes un-befriended.
Her dress she will save for another night,
then wear it as though it were new.
Besides tonight, it wasn't seen by many, in fact, by very few.
Oh, she tried to show herself off in her own very common manner
By walking back and forth continually
as though she carried a banner.
She never danced, but only watched
as she sat in her own little corner.
Lost in a world of unconcern, a world where she is a loner.
The lights are out, the music hushed, and now her world begins,
a world of dreams and everywhere the sound of violins.
She dances across the polished floor
in the arms of a lover she has found,
her hair making golden circles of light
as he takes her round and round.
The music comes from across the clouds, floating softly in her ear.
Just for a moment, soaring up high, her heart has no fear.
Then tears come softly across her cheeks.
In her dreams she is such a romancer,
yet on this cold and empty floor, she is just a lonely dancer.
Mama was right. I should have never come to the dance. I should have never wrapped my dirty pillows in duct tape so I could squeeze myself into this cursed red dress. Mama said that they were all going to laugh at me. Mama said that only bad girls sit in cars with boys. Why didn't I listen to her? I was such a fool. Well, I think I ought to thank the lord that that sodomite Chris Hargensen had the entire prom dance moved from Chamberlain to Derry. It was a really elaborate practical joke, I have to admit that. All for l'il ol' me. I was worried that I would be voted the prom queen and get pig blood dumped on me by Chris and her sweathog boyfriend when I was standing on the stage. Then everyone would have had to die.
Drama, especially young drama, on a dance floor is not uncommon. It's been utilized in everything from "It's A Wonderful Life" to "The Karate Kid" to "Angus" to that Soul Asylum music video with Claire Danes. Oh, and Cinderella. However, Jack throws us a bit of a curveball because, like the hero in the popular song by Cake, this poor waif is striving and driving and hugging the turns, even though not long ago somebody left with the cup. The former occupants of the dance floor are now cupping each other's genitals while this Éponine dances with her imaginary bodice-ripper stud. Aww. Aww? As long as you're going to manipulate us, why not mention that, a few miles away, E.T and Elliot are hugging goodbye forever and in the nearby canyon, Mufasa is being trampled to death by a stampede of wildebeests? I am Jack's diabolical poetry. He even invokes the image of her dress, and oh, I'm getting verklempt... hardly anyone noticed the dress! Talk amongst yourselves! ... She tried to flaunt her "common" goods, but no one was buying. Jack piles up the emotional trauma like an ice cream vendor. Why not show her peeling a "Kick Me" sign off of the back of her spaghetti straps? Somehow she manages to pace the floor continually while simultaneously sitting in her own little corner--huddled among the cobwebs, no doubt. She can bi-locate. You'd think that would be enough to make her popular. I find his "as though she carried a banner" reference to be amusing. Perhaps Jack is no stranger to the Medieval Times restaurant chain?
"The music comes from across the clouds, floating softly in her ear." - one might ask, "What clouds?" But this is a fantasy Technicolor dance sequence with Gene Kelly, directed by Vincente Minnelli. (excuse me, I have to go eat some raw meat while watching classic George Foreman boxing footage). There can be clouds if Jack wants there to be clouds in the high school gym. Maybe there's a fog machine. I know I've said this many many times before, but gravy, if you're going to have a rhyming scheme, you have to stick with it. Don't just throw rhymes here and there like you're feeding pigeons. You come out as looking lazy, and I, for one, feel insulted. Here's the rhyming scheme in the first third of the poem: a, b, c, b, d, e, e, f, g, f. Don't consider that for too long, or your nose will start bleeding.
Bad Poetry Grade [F = your standard bad poem; A+ = worst poem imaginable]: C+
Lonely Dancer
by Jack; unknown location
She walks across the empty floor
as though the world has ended
Another night has made its rounds,
she still goes un-befriended.
Her dress she will save for another night,
then wear it as though it were new.
Besides tonight, it wasn't seen by many, in fact, by very few.
Oh, she tried to show herself off in her own very common manner
By walking back and forth continually
as though she carried a banner.
She never danced, but only watched
as she sat in her own little corner.
Lost in a world of unconcern, a world where she is a loner.
The lights are out, the music hushed, and now her world begins,
a world of dreams and everywhere the sound of violins.
She dances across the polished floor
in the arms of a lover she has found,
her hair making golden circles of light
as he takes her round and round.
The music comes from across the clouds, floating softly in her ear.
Just for a moment, soaring up high, her heart has no fear.
Then tears come softly across her cheeks.
In her dreams she is such a romancer,
yet on this cold and empty floor, she is just a lonely dancer.
Mama was right. I should have never come to the dance. I should have never wrapped my dirty pillows in duct tape so I could squeeze myself into this cursed red dress. Mama said that they were all going to laugh at me. Mama said that only bad girls sit in cars with boys. Why didn't I listen to her? I was such a fool. Well, I think I ought to thank the lord that that sodomite Chris Hargensen had the entire prom dance moved from Chamberlain to Derry. It was a really elaborate practical joke, I have to admit that. All for l'il ol' me. I was worried that I would be voted the prom queen and get pig blood dumped on me by Chris and her sweathog boyfriend when I was standing on the stage. Then everyone would have had to die.
Drama, especially young drama, on a dance floor is not uncommon. It's been utilized in everything from "It's A Wonderful Life" to "The Karate Kid" to "Angus" to that Soul Asylum music video with Claire Danes. Oh, and Cinderella. However, Jack throws us a bit of a curveball because, like the hero in the popular song by Cake, this poor waif is striving and driving and hugging the turns, even though not long ago somebody left with the cup. The former occupants of the dance floor are now cupping each other's genitals while this Éponine dances with her imaginary bodice-ripper stud. Aww. Aww? As long as you're going to manipulate us, why not mention that, a few miles away, E.T and Elliot are hugging goodbye forever and in the nearby canyon, Mufasa is being trampled to death by a stampede of wildebeests? I am Jack's diabolical poetry. He even invokes the image of her dress, and oh, I'm getting verklempt... hardly anyone noticed the dress! Talk amongst yourselves! ... She tried to flaunt her "common" goods, but no one was buying. Jack piles up the emotional trauma like an ice cream vendor. Why not show her peeling a "Kick Me" sign off of the back of her spaghetti straps? Somehow she manages to pace the floor continually while simultaneously sitting in her own little corner--huddled among the cobwebs, no doubt. She can bi-locate. You'd think that would be enough to make her popular. I find his "as though she carried a banner" reference to be amusing. Perhaps Jack is no stranger to the Medieval Times restaurant chain?
"The music comes from across the clouds, floating softly in her ear." - one might ask, "What clouds?" But this is a fantasy Technicolor dance sequence with Gene Kelly, directed by Vincente Minnelli. (excuse me, I have to go eat some raw meat while watching classic George Foreman boxing footage). There can be clouds if Jack wants there to be clouds in the high school gym. Maybe there's a fog machine. I know I've said this many many times before, but gravy, if you're going to have a rhyming scheme, you have to stick with it. Don't just throw rhymes here and there like you're feeding pigeons. You come out as looking lazy, and I, for one, feel insulted. Here's the rhyming scheme in the first third of the poem: a, b, c, b, d, e, e, f, g, f. Don't consider that for too long, or your nose will start bleeding.
Bad Poetry Grade [F = your standard bad poem; A+ = worst poem imaginable]: C+
