Selected friends and family have read advanced drafts of my poem, "Think of Pink," but no one has yet read the latest, probably final revision. I improved it last night, mostly by excising some of the repetitive lines, but also by relocating two poems from the top of the poem to the bottom. It flows much better, now.
"Think of pink. Think of pink!"
I submitted an earlier, but decent draft of "Think of Pink" to "Lighten Up Online," the same quarterly e-magazine of light verse that published "Where Angels Dance," but editor Jerome Betts gently rejected it as "not quite in LUPO's territory."
Too bad. Even though LUPO is a non-paying market, and I may not be able to hope for better when it comes to light verse. At least there, I my work is in good company. (There's a lot of good poetry on the site. I recommend giving it a look.)
On that note, The Winning Writers' Wergle-Flomp Humor Poetry Contest publishes quality stuff and potentially pays, but is (therefore) even less likely to accept my work.
Despite earning an Honorable Mention in that contest in 2019 (for "Where Pixies Relax") I have had no luck since. More discouraging, I've read some incredibly well-written poetry among the winners, but too few I found humorous. To sum up: 1). What I consider funny doesn't seem to amuse the Wergle-Flomp judges; 2) What the judges choose to win--while reliably high art--is less reliably funny. Ergo, I don't feel particularly hopeful about the prospects of succeeding in that market.
Speaking of major rewrites, I'll confess I've often contemplated replacing some mediocre lines in "Where Pixies Relax" (specifically, the verse about backpacks).
A broader problem I have are humorous poems that rely on cultural references, since those quickly lose their meaning. "Santa Claus is Coming and He's Pissed" (an old favorite, never published) contrasts Charles Bronson's menace (see "Dirty Dozen" and "Death Wish") with Tinkerbell's harmlessness. "A Spaceman," (published in Clarendon House Publishing's, Poetica 3: Inner Circle Writer's Group Poetry Anthology 2021" likens a starry sky to "Liberace's sequined robe."
[Before I leave the topic of perishable references, I'm currently rewriting a short story that, in earlier drafts, mined humor out of "Rambo" and famous extraterrestrials: "E.T., Kal-el, Chewbacca, Spock and Doctor Who." None of those references will survive another draft.]
Back to poetry for a final subject. After Dad passed away, I inherited a stack of my own creative writing that he had saved for me. Among the stacked papers was a long-lost love poem I wrote for Sara while we were still newlyweds, living in Oakland, California: "The Light of My Life."
It's very nice, but not precious. So, I'll probably submit it soon to a vanity venue such as "Clarendon House Publishing's Poetics anthology series, or perhaps, "Spillwords.com". Once it's published, I'll likely come back and share it here, too. It begins:
The Light of My Life
Some days, I commute before sunrise,On a train that dives under The Bay,To a job in a windowless office,Where I work without daylight all day...