Elf Sternberg

Since it's national poetry month, I've been reading Elsa Gidlow and Dylan Thomas again. I like poetry: stories written without poetry in mind are dead. Writers who have never even tried to write a poem, like Robert Jordan or Kevin Anderson, stand out because their imaginations are so obviously blanded. They imagine things in Hollywood camera-eye style, rather than caring about the meter of their sentences. You can't read a story out loud that wasn't first written that way.

And there are still poets worth reading. Today, I'll send you to Lemonhound, although there's not a lot of actual poetry on her blog.

Yes in the pantry while the poker game peaked.
Yes in stilettos.
Yes in flats.
Yes in pink plastic.
Yes you do.
Yes I will.
Yes while there's still time.
Yes while I can.
Yes whenever possible.
Yes I'll be a top.
Yes I'll be your bottom.
Yes I'll whomp your ass.
Yes after shopping.
Yes with chocolate.
Yes now.
Yes here.
Yes even alone.