Mary Aris Bio

Mary Aris Author

Monday, 7 July 2014

Poetry Is Dead!

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Poetry is dead! I heard it through the grapevine.
It lay there like a corpse packed in formaldehyde
 They tried to resurrect it but there was a flat line
 Oh, I cried the day they announced poetry had died!

 In this age of Facebook and chat acronyms
 Kids don't need to read or spell the lingo;
 Instead of Keats, they use computer memes,
 Leaving little time for Shakespeare or Poe.

Oh, where is the phoenix of legend and lore?
 With healing tears of strength and immortality?
We need its antidote to heal the metaphor
And its power to resurrect the hyperbole.

Is there no literary physician here?
 Is there no supernatural power? We need a miracle,
 To bring back Whitman, Poe and Shakespeare?
 Kids need Ovid, Virgil and sophocles.

 Wait....what is that crawling out of the sepulchre?
Out of the ashes rises this old form of literature!

 Author Note: They say Poetry is dead; that it was replaced by prose and modern technological advances like the E-reader, the internet and the use of internet memes and lingo. But like fashion, everything that's old has a way of renewing itself. There is still life in poetry's bones! © Mary Aris. All rights reserved

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

Grumpy Cat

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 A poem about Grumpy the Cat.

Grumpy Cat


Grumpy by nature I am; Get out of my face or I’ll
Ruin your day in my own sour puss way.
Upset are you, well that’s my intention.
Make no mistake; I’m not cute, cuddly or furry, I'm no sweet little
Puss; I'm the real McCoy; what you see is what you get, mister.
Yes, I love to sleep and love my tuna.  I go
Crazy for catnip and bananas for a nap
And if you don’t like my frown you can kiss my
Tardy sauce paws; now kindly remove your nose off my keister!

 © Mary Aris. All rights reserved

New Poem

Welcome to my Author Blog! Photobucket Photobucket I've written about thirty new poems since the start of the year. I've been suffering from Writer's Block for awhile now. Keeping a Journal has helped tame my Writer's block.  I find that writing an entry a day for fifteen minutes helps me to open my subconscious to new ideas.   Here's one of my new poems:


Wordsmith, you who conjure language into
Readable masterpieces for the sake of knowledge and pleasure that
Inspire mankind with your colourful imagination; you that with flying fingers
Type and conquer the blank canvas of an empty page,
Entertain us with the magic of your craft; your
Readers will whisper your name across the annals of time.
 © Mary Aris. All rights reserved