Escrever poemas é totalmente o tipo de coisa que, só porque você pode fazer, não significa que você deva.

Limericking

Alguns meses atrás eu descobri uma conta americana do Twitter  (@limericking) que dá as notícias em forma de poema. Especificamente, um tipo de poema chamado limerick, que tem 5 versos, esquema de rimas AABBA, métrica 9-9-6-6-9 e é geralmente usado pra sátira, humor bobinho ou surrealista. Eu achava o flow dos poemas muito bom, e achava geniais os poeminhas com notícias, mas fiquei meses sem tentar me aventurar a fazer um. Ontem eu tentei pela primeira vez, e surpreendentemente saíram vários em sequência. Decidi postar aqui os que eu achei mais engraçados ou inocentes.

Sobre o filme da Kéfera*:
A nation-renowned children's writer
Thought movies might be a good idea
But horrible casting
Made such a disaster
It makes you stop and wonder "why, dear?"

Sobre um evento recente na política brasileira:
Um político irreverente
Que já quer virar presidente
Quando questionado
Da verba do Estado
Disse que usa pra comer gente

A premissa de Evangelion resumida:
A teenage boy known as the third child
Was called to fight angels, who were wild
Destroying the city
But the boy just stopped and said
"No, please, not me, I am too mild"

A premissa de Rocky Horror resumida:
Two regular folks, Brad and Janet
Not having, of course, before planned it
Wound up on a castle
Of a sweet transvestite
Who was from a whole other planet

Eu não sei se a inspiração vai continuar nos próximos dias/meses, mas eu tô achando que vou acabar escrevendo mais. Tá muito divertido. E eu quero aperfeiçoar o formato também (alguns versos saíram da métrica, algumas rimas não foram exatas, acho que isso se treina com o tempo).

*Sobre o filme da Kéfera, eu fiquei realmente incomodada, por um motivo bem específico. O filme é supostamente baseado no livro da Thalita Rebouças "Uma fada veio me visitar". Eu li o livro quando era pequena e achei lindo, de verdade. É uma história bem sensível sobre amizade e sobre tentar não julgar os outros de antemão, construir pontes, ser mais aberto a relacionamentos.

E aí a Thalita deu uma licença para escreverem um filme... horrendo. Eu só vi o trailer e já quase morri de desgosto, mas um amigo meu viu o filme inteiro e me contou em detalhe como é, e aparentemente consegue ser pior do que o trailer sugere. E não tem todo esse plot central da história original, sobre amizades e tudo. E a atuação da Kéfera só consegue piorar as coisas, tornando o filme mais Sessão da Tarde e esquecível do que já seria normalmente.

Eu tento não ser dessas pessoas "esse novo filme estragou minha infância!!1!", mas tenho que me permitir um minuto de silêncio sobre o potencial que esse filme tinha e como ele foi brutalmente enterrado.

Rise O Days from Your Fathomless Deeps

1

RISE O days from your fathomless deeps, till you loftier, fiercer sweep,
Long for my soul hungering gymnastic I devour'd what the earth gave me,
Long I roam'd the woods of the north, long I watch'd Niagara pouring,
I travel'd the prairies over and slept on their breast, I cross'd the Nevadas, I cross'd the plateaus,
I ascended the towering rocks along the Pacific, I sail'd out to sea,
I sail'd through the storm, I was refresh'd by the storm,
I watch'd with joy the threatening maws of the waves,
I mark'd the white combs where they career'd so high, curling over,
I heard the wind piping, I saw the black clouds,
Saw from below what arose and mounted, (O superb! O wild as my heart, and powerful!)
Heard the continuous thunder as it bellow'd after the lightning,
Noted the slender and jagged threads of lightning as sudden and fast amid the din they chased each other across the sky;
These, and such as these, I, elate, saw—saw with wonder, yet pensive and masterful,
All the menacing might of the globe uprisen around me,
Yet there with my soul I fed, I fed content, supercilious.

2

'Twas well, O soul—'twas a good preparation you gave me,
Now we advance our latent and ampler hunger to fill,
Now we go forth to receive what the earth and the sea never gave us,
Not through the mighty woods we go, but through the mightier cities,
Something for us is pouring now more than Niagara pouring,
Torrents of men, (sources and rills of the Northwest are you indeed inexhaustible?)
What, to pavements and homesteads here, what were those storms of the mountains and sea?
What, to passions I witness around me to-day? was the sea risen?
Was the wind piping the pipe of death under the black clouds?
Lo! from deeps more unfathomable, something more deadly and savage,
Manhattan rising, advancing with menacing front—Cincinnati, Chicago, unchain'd;
What was that swell I saw on the ocean? behold what comes here,
How it climbs with daring feet and hands—how it dashes!
How the true thunder bellows after the lightning—how bright the flashes of lightning!
How Democracy with desperate vengeful port strides on, shown through the dark by those flashes of lightning!
(Yet a mournful wail and low sob I fancied I heard through the dark,
In a lull of the deafening confusion.)

3

Thunder on! stride on, Democracy! strike with vengeful stroke!
And do you rise higher than ever yet O days, O cities!
Crash heavier, heavier yet O storms! you have done me good,
My soul prepared in the mountains absorbs your immortal strong nutriment,
Long had I walk'd my cities, my country roads through farms, only half satisfied,
One doubt nauseous undulating like a snake, crawl'd on the ground before me,
Continually preceding my steps, turning upon me oft, ironically hissing low;
The cities I loved so well I abandon'd and left, I sped to the certainties suitable to me,
Hungering, hungering, hungering, for primal energies and Nature's dauntlessness,
I refresh'd myself with it only, I could relish it only,
I waited the bursting forth of the pent fire—on the water and air
I waited long;
But now I no longer wait, I am fully satisfied, I am glutted,
I have witness'd the true lightning, I have witness'd my cities electric,
I have lived to behold man burst forth and warlike America rise,
Hence I will seek no more the food of the northern solitary wilds,
No more the mountains roam or sail the stormy sea.

- Walt Whitman

Pobreza

I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.

J.K. Rowling, em discurso proferido em Harvard em 2008