Emergency! Please Help!

Wednesday 30 November 2011, 10:19 pm   ///  

I really hope this gets to you in time! During a trip to Brookline, Massachusetts I was robbed — robbed of all poetic impulse. All of the brilliance of language was stolen from me. My poetic license was taken as well. I need your help encountering English once again.

I know the unusual diction of this note, the unusual nature of this request, the fact that I am using more than one exclamation point per email, and the fact that it is being sent to everyone in my address book must make it seem like my account was hacked, but I assure you, that’s not the case!

I’ve made contact with my library but the best they could do was to send me a poem the mail which will take 3-5 working days to arrive here. I need you to lend me some words to sort my self out of this predicament.

It would be a great help if you’d just quickly reply (you can use that “comment” mechanism, below) with a single memorable phrase, or some sort of short litany or list, or the current contents of your copy and paste buffer, or a Google search result, or a paragraph, joke, riddle, or even haiku.

I’ll pay you back as soon as I can!




  1. Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.

    Comment by Peter Pears — 2011-12-02 @ 6:55 am
  2. Sia! Strofe, ultima dea! Ancor dona al tuo poeta la sfolgorante idea, la fiamma consueta. Io, a te, mentre tu vivida a me sgorghi dal cuore, darò per rima ul gelido spiro d’in uom che muore.

    Comment by Peter Pears — 2011-12-02 @ 6:58 am
  3. Words lost? Find help, Nick. Help find lost words.

    Comment by Mark Musante — 2011-12-02 @ 9:03 am
  4. For half a century Poetry was The solemn fools’ paradise. Until I came along With my rollercoaster. Get on it, if you want. But here’s my disclaimer: you might get off Bleeding through your mouths and noses.

    Nicanor Parra (1914-)

    Comment by josemanuel — 2011-12-03 @ 9:52 am
  5. The knowledge lives in webs and networks as it has in books. [Weinberger, not I]

    Comment by Patsy — 2011-12-03 @ 9:40 pm
  6. Speaking of Fuck…

    I can provide context if necessary.

    Comment by Marie — 2011-12-03 @ 11:53 pm
  7. any time after 7:35 PM

    Comment by Marie — 2011-12-03 @ 11:55 pm
  8. Responding to stadtgorilla:

    All hope abandon, ye who enter in! – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1882) All hope abandon, ye who enter here – Henry Francis Cary (1805–1814) Leave every hope, ye who enter! – Charles Eliot Norton (1891) Leave all hope, ye that enter – Carlyle-Wicksteed (1932) Lay down all hope, you that go in by me. – Dorothy L. Sayers (1949) Abandon all hope, ye who enter here – John Ciardi (1954) Abandon every hope, you who enter. – Charles S. Singleton (1970) No room for hope, when you enter this place – C. H. Sisson (1980) Abandon every hope, who enter here. – Allen Mandelbaum (1982) Abandon all hope, you who enter here. – Robert Pinsky (1993) Abandon every hope, all you who enter – Mark Musa (1995) Abandon every hope, you who enter. – Robert M. Durling (1996)

    Verbatim, the line translates as “Leave (lasciate) every (ogne) hope (speranza), ye (voi) that (ch’) enter (intrate).” –{According to someone at wikipedia.org}

    Comment by Marie — 2011-12-04 @ 12:09 am
  9. http://mjcache.files.wordpress.com/2011/05/poetic-license21.jpg

    Comment by Anonymous — 2011-12-04 @ 10:17 pm
  10. She wanted to test her husband. She knew exactly what to do: A pseudonym, to fool him. She couldn’t have made a worse move.

    She sent him scented letters, And he received them with a strange delight. Just like his wife But how she was before the tears, And how she was before the years flew by, And how she was when she was beautiful.

    Comment by Babooshka — 2011-12-05 @ 7:52 am
  11. Trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, reverent.

    Comment by Chris C. — 2011-12-05 @ 10:12 am
  12. Nobody slows down for the school zone in front of the Montessori.

    Comment by Aric Maddux — 2011-12-05 @ 4:13 pm
  13. The lovely woman-child Kaa was mercilessly chained to the cruel post of the warrior-chief Beast, with his barbarous tribe now stacking wood at her nubile feet, when the strong, clear voice of the poetic and heroic Handsomas roared, “Flick your Bic, crisp that chick, and you’ll feel my steel through your last meal.”

    Comment by Anonymous — 2011-12-07 @ 12:25 pm
  14. It was the schooner Hesperus that listed in the sand, Dismasted and split against the rocks of that shadow land.

    Comment by Atavistic Narrativist — 2011-12-07 @ 5:49 pm
  15. She’s got it, yeah baby she’s got it. I’m your Venus, I’m your fire. What’s your desire?

    Comment by Kevin — 2011-12-15 @ 12:56 am
  16. If you asked him, the difference between whispering waves and wavering whispers wasn’t worth explaining.

    Comment by David DeSmith — 2011-12-15 @ 5:30 pm
  17. And I said here’s your fucking lunch.

    Comment by Scott — 2012-01-07 @ 7:47 pm

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a comment

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
(c) 2018 Post Position | Barecity theme