Tell Me More, Tell Me More

A Wistful Wish

OK, it’s an age thing. Some people hear “Tell Me More,” and they think of the program on National Public Radio. I hear “Tell Me More,” and I think of a song (not the Billie Holliday song; I don’t go that far back). The song isn’t called “Tell Me More,” but that’s the refrain/chorus/most memorable/only audible line in it.

Last Thursday night, some 29 people decided to “tell me more” and participated in Twitter poetry party. Some interesting side notes: we had one self-described lurker; @Doallas brought a fan following with her, with some 10 (!) people retweeting her tweets; one participant signed up on Twitter just to be part of the party; one showed up in cracked curlers (I don’t comment – I merely report); two participants couldn’t abide the suspense of waiting and launched into their own unprompted exchange.

The prompts were taken from Caduceus: Poems by Sorina Higgins. The poet herself (@IambicAdmonit) was at the party. And it was one rockin’ room (which is why I was reminded of that movie).

Tell Me More

By @lwlindquist, @memoriaarts, @VinaMist, @llbarkat, @EscapeIntoLife, @SimplyDarWrites, @renokingstweet, @PatriciaSpreng, @annkroeker, @IambicAdmonit, @chrisyokel, @RadBeliever, @jejpoet, @DianaBridge, @Doallas, @SandraHeskaKing, @matthewkreider, @dorphlthewise, @sethhaines, @mjpaulusjr, @leximagines, @LoveLifeLitGod, @ArelyStdenis, @shortcake0369, @kconwayireton, @lauralynn_brown, @secarey, @mmerubies, and @monicasharman. Lurking by @monicabrand. Edited by @gyoung9751.

Potomac Pink

That blaze of pink
so unlike the blossoms
falling along the Potomac;
power melts into pink,
pink melts into power.

Pinkless Dakota

No pink tractors
on the Dakota gravel

School Rules

School rules to twist and fool:
only wear colors, and only hair colors
that nature has made
flamingos arrayed!

Pink Horsepower

Let’s speed baby
in that Pink Limo
Oh she’s a beauty
a pink beauty!
Ride the pink pony.
And the limo whispers
to the pony,
“I am, I say.”

The pony opens her eyes,
like miniature wings,
with little pink gums,
little pink tongue
whispering, pink,
the color of not knowing
what to say and,
not knowing what to say,

the color of pink shadows.
I am cherry,
I am pony blossoms,
I am feather blooms
My little heel-wings are not
made of feathers
but pointed to crush
the blooms your lips make.

Cherry blossoms

Cherry blossoms drift
from mythological boughs,
boughs I saved for you.
Flaming bushes of autumn
whisper “I am, I am”
to my doubtful, stuttering heart.

Shadows cover the finger-thin trees
with identity crises, with little green lies:
tender stroking of fragile branches,
pink blossoms bursting free,
arms raised in worship,
sugar spun blossoms
bursting at the seams.

Little tongue with your spun
come spin yourself on me;
My finger-thin lies can only
clutch the shadows,
not the real green thing.

Light as honey

I am light as honey
I am speech like bees.
Sing to me, fly with me.
I am curves, I am blush
honey, a sung myth.


Ice in the springtime?
Just in my bones.
Wait for the opening.
The stamens can thaw you,
can sing in your marrow.

Jeweled shadows float long
caress the branches
of our metaphors fragile
beneath the wait
of our expectations.

Warming to gentle touches,
I am a metaphor spun
a myth newly,
I am true,
a make-believe.

Photograph by Joel Olives. Creative commons, via Flickr. Post by Glynn Young, author of Dancing Priest: A Novel


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  1. says

    I admire the speed of this first posting of our twoems, Glynn.

    I knew we had many at the jam, but 29(!); that’s a lot of tweets to edit. It was a fun evening that produced a lot of good lines. I sent a few reshaped tweets into the Twittersphere the next day.

  2. says

    I must also say that in the midst of this wild party, Sorina and I formed an anti-pink alliance and tried to call down the wrath of the Norse gods, but nonetheless, everything ended with the last strum of the lyre 😉

  3. says

    The experience of my first Twitter poetry party was a bit overwhelming (and I didn’t quite know what to do with All That Pink!) but very interesting – Sorina, thanks for the invite! It’s interesting and satisfying to see the way that the tweets shaped into poems. Even though I didn’t contribute much, I did a little bit – and it’s delightful to find “pink, the color of not knowing what to say” in one of these poems: not knowing what to say, but saying it anyway — isn’t that part of what making poetry is?

  4. says

    Mister Glynn, I would love to see how you actually weave those together. Do you print off the tweets and cut them into line then puzzle them together? Or is is all via computer?

    It was an interesting event to say the least–quite a shocker for my maiden twitter voyage. My tweets went something like this:

    am i in?
    how do i make this blasted thing work?
    toss me a line!

    Maybe next time it won’t hurt so much. But I dare say that those poems are a terrifical bunch! Thanks for all your hard work.


  5. says

    I wasn’t sure what to do with all the pink this time, either, but in your able hands, Glynn, it all came together. I am ever struck by the longing that always seems to come thru in these parties: longing for a lover, for understanding, for truth, a combination of all three or more. It’s fascinating.

  6. Sandra says

    As a Tweetspeak virgin so this past Thursday was crazy to say the least. I had so much fun participating in the jam and writing about pink everything and the mystical gods. I had just come back from D.C. Right before the blossoms burst so writing those tweets was a fantastic way to celebrate my memories. The ending poems turned out so fun. Thanks so much. I can’t wait til the next jam.

  7. says

    Thanks for including me in the lineup there, Glynn. I think I wrote a total of three tweets :)

    I’m not sure how you Tweetspeak poets think of things to write so quickly. I can’t even read fast enough to keep up with you, let alone write a line of poetry (or even a line of something that might become poetry). But it was sure fun to see all the lines flying around. Y’all are a super creative bunch!

  8. says

    It was my first time at a TSPoetry party too. The time-zone difference is a killer. I think I put in about four tweets, mainly because I was struggling to keep up with everyone else.

    It’s fascinating to see the order you manage to create from the apparent chaos, Glynn.


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