What is an “Undead” Poet, and how do you know when you are in the presence of one (or may be one, yourself)? This is an excellent question, an important one to ask, and one that needs must be answered…
If you are feeling adventuresome, take the following “What is an Undead Poet?/Am I an Undead Poet?” Quiz…if you dare!
Do you feel that you are in the presence of greatness (even when you are the only person in the room)?
You could be in the presence of an Undead Poet.
Do you expect an Undead Poet to have (or do you have) pale, alabaster skin, glowing, haunted eyes, attenuated canines ready to imbibe copious amounts of blood, like ruby globules of life-sustaining yumminess?
Do you think an Undead Poet would have (or do you have) a ghoulish and frankly, rather rotting, appearance, with a particular fondness for brains?
Do you think an Undead Poet tends (or do you tend) to speak in rhyme (at least some of the time…)? Does an Undead Poet (or do you) murmur seemingly nonsense phrases like, “Planes, trains, cranes, drains, brains!”?
You are perhaps getting warmer…
Is an Undead Poet (or are you) a devilishly handsome and poetic individual (maybe like yours truly 😉 – or perhaps, Adam Selzer), or beautimous and intelligent (like all of our lovely and talented lady Undead Poets)?
You are nearly burning hot (or ice cold, depending upon your personal preference)…
If you answered “Yes” to any or all of these questions, then congratulations, you may be an Undead Poet!
The simple fact of the matter is that Undead Poets come in all shapes, sizes, sexes, and genres; we simply share these things in common:
We love poetry – its meter, its rhyme (or lack thereof), and how it joyously trips lightly out of our thoughts, through our pencil/pen/keyboard/quill and onto the page;
We write all kinds of poetry, for many different genres (not just the “macabre”) and many different age groups – from poems for children/MG/YA, to poems for any age; and
we are “undead” i.e. we are (most of us anyway) rather alive.
About Tim Keeton
Flashfiction published by Seedpod Pub. Poetry appears in Read Write Poem 2010 Anthology. Founder & creator of the Undead Poets Society
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Long live the undead poets.
If I wasn’t already a member, I’d sign up right away.
I don’t like brains. Not even with eggs. I have actually had it. When I was a lot younger (around 8 or 9, I suppose), my Aunt Bea fed me (and my cousins) brains and eggs. She didn’t, however, tell us what it was until AFTER we finished our plates. UGH. A
And more recently…
While ordering food at a restaurant this weekend, I thought I was ordering shredded beef taco. Seeing as the word “cabeza” was in the description, it should have given me a clue. My friend, who is fluent in spanish and english, heard me and said, “No, Donna! You don’t want that!”
She then talked to the waitress, corrected my order and explained my mistake to me.
My friend explained that I was actually ordering brains. Needless to say, memories of my eariler experience with brains flooded MY brain. I shivered and said, “LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA” in a really loud voice. NOT the best thing to do in a small crowded restaurant.
In other words, brains for breakfast (or any other meal) makes me want to hurl. Does that make me a rebel in the undead poet society? 🙂
Not at all, not at all.
How about a nice blutwurst; you know, blood sausage? 😉