Poets vs ArchitectsYes, apparently there is a National Poetry month. Who knew? Architecture only has a week – April 12th through the 18th (six days, actually. Not even a whole week). Yep. I know, I know, it’s an outrage. I’m sure National Architecture week is marked on your calendars in bold red ink, circled, with little hearts drawn around it. I bet National Poetry month isn’t even marked in pencil. It’s April, if you are wondering.

Despite my seething anger and resentment, I am willing to step up to the plate, take the high road, be the bigger person and set aloft the dove of peace to build a bridge between these mortal enemies, the despicable poets and the architects (by despicable, I mean kind, generous and caring, obviously. Sort of like when ‘bad’ means ‘good’, or bastard means… well, nevermind). Who will stand with me?

For this week only, the two events coincide. I propose we take this week and write poetry about architecture. Alternatively, you may write a song if you prefer (but that would be playing right into the hands of those pesky songwriters. They probably have a whole year). Nah. Let’s just write poetry that in some way embraces architecture, interior spaces, buildings, ruins, monuments, cities, towns, your house, or whatever flips your (light) switch. If there’s enough interest I’ll post your poems on this blog as a peace offering to the angry (I mean loving) poets. If not, then poets and architects are doomed to feud til time stands still. It’s on your shoulders.

So, get out your frilly little poet’s pen or your solid, dependable, built-to-last, stainless steel architect’s mechanical pencil and start poeting.

I’ll start things off with some haiku, because I don’t have the foggiest idea how to write any other poetry. It’s perfect for those of us with short attention spans. Haiku is the Twitter of poetry (3 lines totaling 17 syllables: 5 syllables on the first and third lines, 7 on the second line). For any other form of poetry, feel free to ramble on for pages if your muse commands.

An old house of stone,
I am covered in ivy,
Ooh, those mice tickle!

Grand Sistine ceiling,
Four years lying on my back,
Next time, you paint it!

Pharaohs long since dead,
Red sun broils the pyramids,
Ahhh…… It’s cool beneath.

Angry wind howling,
Why is everything spinning?
There’s no place like home.

Driving the freeway,
House after house after house,
They are all the same.

Sprouting from the ground,
A cage of lumber nailed,
Someday I’ll live here.

Up, up, up the stairs,
My heart… about… to… explode.
Yay! Stairs go down, too.

No windows for me,
I sit in a cubicle,
Yearning for the light.

Like children for mom,
Shiny, glass and steel buildings,
They reach for the sky.

Big picture window,
Sparkling clean target in sight,
I like to eat worms.

Read part two here.

Just can’t get enough Haiku? Check out my Star Wars Haiku.

In Honor of National Poetry Month… Help Me End the Feud.

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