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Electoral Math When I'm president, I'll take away the clouds and the rain. Instead, the air will be infused with a fine mist from four thirty to six every morning. I'll tilt our planet to the vertical. Summertime will never end. The sky will whiten and ache. The moon will scream and shatter. Every particle will sing of emancipation. The balloons will fall from the rafters and I will smile, wave, grip, grin, howl, clutch, and crumple, and the song won't fade, and the moon won't rise, and my legacy will signal the dawn. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: G. Donald Cribbs On Date: 2006-08-27 16:23:53
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Fowler,
Wow, you do a great job of balancing the tension between the grimness of your presidential rule, and the edgy/bizarre things you plan to do with the country and even reality. I quite liked the "just a bit off track" nature of the poem. The short lines running down the page made me read it rather quickly so I could find out exactly what your diabolical plans entailed. Would I vote for you? I don't know, there are some sinister thoughts in these lines, but that doesn't mean this isn't a fine poem.
You take the reader on a humorous journey to find what your fantasies are in this "what if" poem.
Thanks for sharing this with us. I enjoyed it immensely!
Warm regards,
Don