Festival of the Arts Collective Poem, Result
by Zachary Lutz
Kent State's College of the Arts hosted the annual Festival of the Arts on Thursday, Oct. 11. Luna Negra decided to gather partcipants and write a collective poem. Two baskets were found and filled with nouns and verbs printed on small clips, each placed more carefully than the next in a flurry of paper, for inspiration. After All Media Art Supply Co. graciously donated a large scroll, we headed to Risman Plaza with some markers and set up shop in what felt like 80 mph winds. There were some logistical problems, and a whole lot of fighting against the weather. But when the sun finally peered and triumphed around the library, we saw that our scroll was filled with a substantial poem. Did you contribute a line to our poem? See if yours made the cut, below (of course it made the cut). All content credited to willing, Kent State area poets who braved the weather and didn't worry too long about being put on the spot. Few, if any, edits were made to this poem.
Fight right weary, countrymen!
We star-spangled her denim dress for waiting so long;
a home of brave souls does she live,
GOAL! But we all unite over hate of soccer.
Roses r red, violets r blue,
does anyone love Kent as much as I do??
Walls with a tact talk with a mouth, and was is what is all about;
the door was open, and so we went through it — then the door was closed.
Then the cattle became my very best of friends
as we mooned the world.
Then we saw ourselves on the television channel.
A group of kids play in the abandoned factory, playing freeze tag.
Time was frozen back then.
The BIRD, to young to ﬂy, left the NEST, and found his dreams lived out.
He ate a delicious meal of black squirrel that he found, in his nest.
Prison Mike didn’t like prison due to all the dementors,
the judge threw a curve toward the criminal.
Mike said “Put the lotion in the basket!
“And put the basket on the bumper of the car!”
I eat cashews but I don’t like peanuts;
but when I eat peanuts, I normally wear fuzzy pink slippers!
The captain held the glass to his mouth,
as the wind knocked over his favorite pot of ﬂowers.
Startled, the captain spilled the russet red wine over the sofa cushions.
The wine snaked through the valley over the couch
so they built a fort instead.
And from the valley of the couch, it trickled down through the ﬂoorboards
and made a box of valuables damp.
Exit the bear. From inside, the throat of our volcano fuming
comes a single ﬂower, blooming through the fumes
and the fairies circle around its bud,
and the rabbits devour its leaves and leave
no trace of life.
While no traces remain, dinosaurs think twice.
Tennis was had on the patio, overlooking the veranda, giving us tears.
This is the view from a motorcycle drive-by.
There is a ﬂame in my soul.
Forsaking her faith, the nun tore off her habit
and gave herself the the henill.