30 Day Poetry Challenge - Day Four

Day Four - Look to Craigslist, newspapers, Twitter, anywhere for unintentional
poetry. Using the original text, punctuate and use line breaks to turn it into a poem. 

Write is Wrong

(Adapted from the article, “'Chapter 1: Clark,' Reports Awful Manuscript,” reported in The Onion, Issue 49.12

http://www.theonion.com/articles/chapter-1-clark-reports-awful-manuscript,31731/ )

{NEW YORK.}

An absolutely terrible manuscript…

Written by local aspiring novelist,

Brandon Heath,

Reported today that “Chapter 1:

       …Clark.”

“It was late autumn,

The leaves on the trees

Were a brilliant, blazing red,

And Clark Thurman

Was gazing at the passerby…

Just outside his apartment window,”

Continued the just awful first draft

Of Heath’s 80,000-word book…

       …The Final Light…

Which according to its author,

Details the interlocking fortunes

Of three strangers living in 1950s

       Manhattan,

And which sources confirmed…

       …is very bad.

“For a moment,

Clark thought he heard Mary

Call his name from the kitchen,

But then he remembered…

…school was back in session…

And the woman he loved

Had returned to her studies

       at Swarthmore…

Leaving him here…

       …alone.

This time of year

Often saw Clark fall…

Into such melancholy thoughts.”

At press time…

Heath’s thinly sketched character

Was rushing

To respond to an unexpected knock

On the front door of his

        apartment.

Kissing Hands and Shaking Babies

Kissing Hands and Shaking Babies

By Brandon Palzkill

Cold and dreary, aptly so;

Tuesday in November.

Resolutely, I did go,

to vote for a contender.

To the polls, I made my way,

casting my selections.

Content, that I’ll have had my say,

until the next elections.

Waiting, just like everyone,

for tallies, from the news.

Votes are in and that guy won;

insanity ensues.

Why the hell would they pick him?

Did no one see those ads?

His track record’s been awfully grim,

yet, he won… ain’t that sad?

And those, I feel, who should have called

the shots and ran the show,

had lost, completely, one and all,

and how; we’ll never know.

Although agreed, with many a “yea”,

amusingly, I thought,

desires to dull our pains away,

with hazy clouds of pot.

And I suppose, it’s just as well,

for people to get bombed.

If I could, I would, until,

his term has come and gone.

But now, it’s all been said and done,

they’ll finally leave us be.

Had the best man truly won,

though, only time will see.