New Posts: Rewriting Keroauc

Jack Keraouc, famous Beat writer from the 60s wrote haikus of a sort.

Like this:

Early morning yellow flowers,
thinking about
the drunkards of Mexico.

And this:

Nightfall,
boy smashing dandelions
with a stick.

And this:

Drunk as a hoot owl,
writing letters
by thunderstorm.

And, of course, this one:

Holding up my
purring cat to the moon
I sighed.

In class, we rewrote this poem so that it fit the traditional haiku 5-7-5 form. Here is the version I wrote alongside you in class (in the 2 or so minutes I gave you):

by Nadine Wills

Grandiose holding
purring cat up to the moon
stumbling I sighed.

Dear (brilliant) students, please send me your rewrites so that I can post them here as well.

24.04.2007
Benjamin Heidtmann
so courageous and brilliant
sent his rewrites first.

He wrote a number of rewrites, don't worry if you only have the cat purring one we did in class. The "more the merrier" as those of us like to say who are happy to use tired cliches :-) Thank you.

Rewriting Kerouac by Benjamin Heidtmann

Early morn sweet bloom
thoughts of Mexican drunkards
haunt these yellow fields


Stick in hand, smashing
dandelions. Without care,
the boy moves onwards


Thunderstorm outside,
intoxication rises
as I pour these words


Cat exposed, purring
held up to the wretched moon
my sigh goes unheard


By Raphael Awasty

Holding up my own
purring pussycat to the moon
I sighed grief-stricken

By Shilan Anderson

Moonlit purring cat
my arms outstreched i hold you
and sigh and sigh. Why?

By Rieke Jordan

As the purring cat
encountered the white moonlight
I tumbled and sighed.

By Helen Krueger

Holding up straight my
lonely old cat to the moon
I sigh in despair.

Isn't it interesting how many variations there are on these 3 simple lines that I gave you only a couple of minutes to rewrite? Notice that each subtle difference in word choice changes the tone and meaning of the poem quite dramatically.

Here are some more rewrites:

By Susi Hauner

Midnight sacrifice -
Held up, my cat purrs at the
moon's cold face. I sigh.

By Marsha Grant

Holding cat up to
the shining facade, the moon
I sighed too loudly