Metre Maids

I quested into the darkest recesses of twitter for something like verse. Now, I like twitter. But the results, friends, were disappointing….

this muse /is a rip-current of creation /yanking you back under /over and over /until only the muse /can save you#poem

— Robert Smith (@rasmithii) May 16, 2012

**— 2  stars
Five retweets, twelve favourites. I don’t like the juxtaposition of ‘under’ and ‘over’, side by side. It might have been deliberate or it might have been clumsy inattention to detail, I couldn’t say. The only imagery is the ‘rip-current’. I don’t know much about the muse. I dislike any “the [concrete noun] of [abstract noun]” phrase except in comedy. 

The street was dimpled with potholes, steaming from its gutters, salt in an oozing wound, cotton in a smoky mouth bit.ly/Jj9Wjj #poem — Kyle Newman (@KG_Newms) May 17, 2012

***– 3 stars
With no retweets or favourites, this poem is much more interesting from the point of view of imagery, although I can’t imagine why there would be cotton in a smoky mouth nor  how cotton or salt relate to the original potholed street. 

I dig, you dig, we dig, she dig, he dig, they dig. It’s not a very #good #poem, but it’s very #deep — Kanon Ford (@kanon92) May 17, 2012

****-4 stars
Hah. I see what you did there.

I see the shadows thru the shades/sway across the floor/& think the cat is creeping up/but the cat lives here no more… #poem #cat #shadows

— kerry winderman (@cyberhaikutoday) May 17, 2012

***– 3 stars
Should I be laughing or weeping? I will forgive all grammatical awkwardness for the sake of a lost cat. Your pain: I feel it.

A solvency unlike any predictably flavored notion fathomed/ dreams in multicolored swirls/ of autonomic epiphany #micropoetry #poem #poetry

— Fred Rutherford (@PoeticalPsyche) May 17, 2012

—– 0  stars
wtfingf? Anyone ever told you long words don’t make you clever, they just alienate people? What are you talking about and what is it supposed to mean? Multicoloured dream swirls don’t count by the way, they’re too predictable.

A distant glint,A swell of hope,A horizon dim of solace.Old smoke obscuresThe truth of day;The false dawn of journey’s promise#poem — 4burner (@4burner) May 17, 2012

**— 2  stars
Metre needs work. The imagery needs ditching. The whole thing sounds tired, like a bad Tolkien imitation.

Little girl with daisy dress taps on window; hi newspaper lady. #poem — ChrisMLindgren (@ChrisMLindgren) May 17, 2012

****- 4 stars
I quite like the naivety of this. Not sure if it’s a poem, but who gives a crap?

I was willing to be You’re Ride or Die But instead you was looking just to get some as if i was just that other guy#RideOrDie #poem

— Carey!♥♪(*_*)™ (@CaReY_Coco) May 17, 2012

**— 2 stars
It would be easy to get snobby about grammar, so I won’t. Instead I’ll mention the repetition of ‘just’, which clogs up the already choked metre.

…in conclusion, if you write good poetry, please post it on twitter to drown out the racket. If you only think you write good poetry, when in fact your muse is uninspiring as Noel Edmonds naked, STOP for the love of all god STOP, STOP, STOP.