Thursday, March 26, 2009

Fun With Twisted Linguistics

Visual Poetry -
You know what these are: blasfomys!

grammor errors
book shalves
gobal warming
I was blind sighted
brake the law

That's rather a motley collection, isn't it? Never let it be said that TWISTED LINGUISTICS sits around dragging its butt. We're always on the lookout for Words Gone Wild, and we work for these damned things. And what, you may be asking, does one do with such a warped collection of blasfomys? Well, what we're doing with them this week is ... poetry! And not just any old poetry, either. You're going to use the blasfomys to write sonnets. And lest you be scratching your head in perplexment (wondering if Serena's finally lost it), look no further.

son·net (snt)
1. A 14-line verse form usually having one of several conventional rhyme schemes.
2. A poem in this form.

[French or Italian sonetto (French, from Italian), from Old Proven├žal sonet, diminutive of son, song, from Latin sonus, a sound; see swen- in Indo-European roots.]

And now, let's write! Hell, I'll even go first. Which is not to say that I know how to write a sonnet. Clearly, I don't. But that's what'll make this fun.

Gobal warming and grammor errors --
Are there any darker terrors?
Such charachers, dare I ponder?
Are they canabals or aritsts, I wonder?
I was asolutely blind sighted! I see, but I do not see,
For what can there be when I will not see what's in front of me?
If the world disappered, supposidly becauase I permote
What's on my book shalves, who would tote the crippled goat?
Oh, I am done for.
I should run for the hills and fear no more.
For should I stop quickly and brake the law,
The comapny attornry would call it a draw
And sue the faux cartographer for millions of bucks,
While I in my daiper -- oh, fluck a duck.

I am so looking forward to reading your sonnets, I'm practically salivating. Now -- start writing!


Skunkfeathers said...

Taking liberty with literary permote,
with these few lines of text I smote,
the idea that one cruciverbally spited,
would lead to this, and I am blind sighted,
in the midst of spring of blizzard's fury,
I falls on my arse, in literal asolutely.
Pathetic is as pathetic's smarming,
and pathetic is those who believe gobal warming,
for it is but for them I say "pshhaw",
and do all I can to brake the
This only gets worse and enough to encourage,
a negative scree couched in verbal descourage,
cuz sonnets ain't much of that what's for me,
and if writ bad enough will bring a stop order from an attornry.

*ducking boos and throwd sonnet books*

Skunkfeathers said...

Sorry...the only sonnet I ever found interesting was the Guns of Will Sonnet...*ducking boos and throwd TV Guides*

Serena said...

Yeah, Skunk, that's what I'm talkin' about! See? You wrote a wickedly warped sonnet in spite of yourself. No throwed sonnet books in these here parts.:-)

Guns of Will Sonnet? Nah, don't compute.:)

g-man said...

....Sherry. It was a TV Western starring Walter Brennan.


Do I look like Shakespeare? I only write about him..Hehehehe

Serena said...

Oh, come on, Galen, don't wimp out on me. If I can write a "sonnet," YOU can, too. Walter Brennan, the mule guy? I don't remember that show at all.:)

g-man said...

It was during your "Wild Years" 67-69...And OK! Stop whining, I'll write a fricken Sonnett.
But Your getting Iambic Pentameter BIMBO!!!

Skunkfeathers said...

LOL...I was only 10 in 1967. Dang I'm gittin' oldt!

Serena said...

And I wasn't that much older, Skunk.:-)

I wasn't that wild a child, Galen, thank you very much. And where is my sonnet?:-)