Friday, September 07, 2007

An Ode on Haughty Men

This is probably one of my least polished poems...I think that the more bizarre the experience, the harder it is to fit adequately to words. I don't even know if this was a valiant attempt. It was more of a geyser of words & thoughts carelessly ordered on paper. As a side note, the silly site won't let me format it the way I have it typed on my computer so it doesn't look as cool as I had intended. Well, without futher ado, here it is: a poem based on actual events that occured last week at a Christian concert in Portland.

An Ode on Haughty Men
by Joann Renee

There you stand.
Rugged good looks
making your smile
lofty & disturbing.

You pick your target.
Tall, athletic, blonde
with an infectious laugh
and quick temper.

Yes.
A brilliant choice.

She seems to be accompanied
by two other females.
One with wavy auburn hair
and that same easy smile.
The other—
well, she’s wearing a sweatshirt
with owls on it. Bizarre.

You work your way into their trio,
Focusing 85% of your charm
on the blonde beauty
and 15% on the wavy-haired temptress.

You are aware that owl-girl
is impertinently staring at you,
demanding a glance, if not
an introduction.
But you stand firm!
her owls do not deserve
the slightest attention.

Owl-girl is amused,
though her eyes brim
with incredulity.
The male specimen so clearly flirting with her
friend has made several colossal mistakes
if he wishes her to be at all awed by him:

First
He’s patted her shoulder.
Second
After asking for her myspace,
he then casually mentions
his girlfriend.
Third
In under 5 minutes he’s managed
to insinuate his school is better than hers
at least a half a dozen times.
Fourth
This arrogant 20-something is trying
to impress her by completely ignoring
one of her closest friends.
Fifth
Seriously? Did you just hug me?

Mr. Haughty struts away:
“Mission accomplished!”
Miss Blonde Beauty clenches her fists
and growls most ferociously.
Wavy Temptress smiles sweetly
and shrugs her shoulders.
Owl-girl doubles over in laughter,
pointing out that of the two topics
he brought up (besides insulting
their alma mater): Mutemath
and the Emerging Church,
she alone of the three had any interest.

It was a match made in heaven—
If only she was 3 inches taller,
20 pounds lighter, fuller hair,
and had opted for her black sweater
instead of the wise owls who hold
the secret to life’s deepest mysteries—
like how many licks it takes to reach
the desired tootsie in the center of the pop
and why bleachers always attract
haughty men.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

Joann,

You are the fragrance of genius.

Your poem, perfectly titled, brought me back to last Friday so much in mind, that my body convulsed in wretchedness; oh,haughty man!

That said, you remain, the most beautiful human being of my acquaintance, the fragrance of poetic genius and fellow harbinger of quintessentially defining moments.

Ode on My Jo.

Sarah

Danny said...

Hey sis, looking forward to your arrival in 25 days! You are an inspired writer, I look forward to your poetry of Singapore!! 8)

Lis said...

Fabulously brilliant. In love with your poetry since your publication of the poem on rain dripping and pierc`ed men. Anything you'd be interested in me setting to music? :-) :-) if so, do email posthaste.

Anonymous said...

Bahahaha.

I know that guy. Seriously. He comes to my hut every single day. How you captured him so well, I do not know. But you did, so kudos to you.

- Steph

Anonymous said...

I just read it again and really felt that it deserved another comment.

Oh the owl-girl. How I adore her so.

- Steph again.

farmgirl beth said...

You encapsulated the encounter quite well in your brief tirade! So sorry his alma mater happens to be mine as well. The quality of men was MUCH better 12 years ago...

And I find the owl sweatshirt quite intriguing and would be proud to wear it myself if my belly wasn't so ridiculously large and full of Katie.

Whitney said...

Joann,

I think I would enjoy knowing this story first hand...let's talk sometime. ;)

Love!
Whit

Grace said...

Joann I love your writing... It takes me right to the place and the moment! I was there with you watching the scene unfold... what fun to read.