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A, B, Q, R, S, T, U, V
As promised, I circled back around to fill in my gaps in Writer Pilgrim by So Elite’s month-of-May song-title poetry challenge — and got my entries in just before the clock struck midnight on May 31, 2024.
So I’m reposting the letters I’d missed along the way: A, B, Q, R, S, T, U, and V. I followed the rules and limited myself strictly to song titles (with some poetic license applied to capitalization and punctuation) and I made them all into fourteen-liners, which you might therefore call pseudo-sonnets. I also created, as best I could with what’s available, Spotify playlists that correspond to the poems.
Allison Russell
Persephone
the runner,
the returner —
Eve was black,
rag child —
stay right here,
you’re not alone,
nightflyer:
all of the women,
the hunters,
demons,
everything I wanted
all without within
by your side.
Björk
Come to me
violently happy
like someone in love.
I miss you
Isobel,
it’s oh so quiet.
You’ve been flirting again —
possibly maybe
big time sensuality.
It’s not up to you —
an echo, a stain,
quicksand.
All is full of love,
all neon like.
The Quizlings
I am the robotman,
come join me
in the outerspace of my dreams
you beautiful people.
How hot does it have to get
until the haters start to love?
Who do you think you are
sunrise rider?
I’ve been down this road
crazy shaking angry.
It doesn’t do me no good,
Mrs. Flash Gordon.
Won’t you be my neighbor
all ye who labor?
The Ramones
Listen to my heart:
Sheena is a punk rocker;
I don’t wanna walk around with you,
I don’t wanna go down to the basement,
I wanna be your boyfriend.
I remember you —
Do you wanna dance?
Do you remember rock n roll radio?
Rock ’n’ Roll High School?
Blitzkrieg bop?
Gimme gimme shock treatment,
I wanna be sedated —
teenage lobotomy —
I just want to have something to do.
Bruce Springsteen
It’s hard to be a saint in the city
racing in the street,
tougher than the rest
out in the street.
I wish I were blind,
blinded by the light,
lost in the flood,
born to run.
Darkness on the edge of town,
my hometown,
I’m goin’ down,
downbound train
meeting across the river —
the river.
Tori Amos
Cornflake girl,
abnormally attracted to sin,
sleeps with butterflies.
You can bring your dog
Mr. Bad Man,
putting the damage on.
In the springtime of his voodoo
I can’t see New York,
maybe California.
Don’t make me come to Vegas,
Mrs. Jesus,
bouncing off clouds.
Welcome to England,
another girl’s paradise.
U2
I threw a brick through a window
staring at the sun
where the streets have no name —
two hearts beat as one.
I still haven’t found what I’m looking for
when I look at the world
with or without you
stuck in a moment you can’t get out of.
I will follow
in a little while
until the end of the world
running to stand still.
I fall down
when love comes to town.
Van Morrison
Sweet thing,
moondance,
these dreams of you
when that evening sun goes down
come running
into the mystic
hymns to the silence,
the eternal Kansas City
brand new day,
crazy love,
and it stoned me
hungry for your love —
I wanna roo you,
Natalia.
Potter Poems is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jopomojo.substack.com/subscribe
View all episodes
By Jonathan PotterAs promised, I circled back around to fill in my gaps in Writer Pilgrim by So Elite’s month-of-May song-title poetry challenge — and got my entries in just before the clock struck midnight on May 31, 2024.
So I’m reposting the letters I’d missed along the way: A, B, Q, R, S, T, U, and V. I followed the rules and limited myself strictly to song titles (with some poetic license applied to capitalization and punctuation) and I made them all into fourteen-liners, which you might therefore call pseudo-sonnets. I also created, as best I could with what’s available, Spotify playlists that correspond to the poems.
Allison Russell
Persephone
the runner,
the returner —
Eve was black,
rag child —
stay right here,
you’re not alone,
nightflyer:
all of the women,
the hunters,
demons,
everything I wanted
all without within
by your side.
Björk
Come to me
violently happy
like someone in love.
I miss you
Isobel,
it’s oh so quiet.
You’ve been flirting again —
possibly maybe
big time sensuality.
It’s not up to you —
an echo, a stain,
quicksand.
All is full of love,
all neon like.
The Quizlings
I am the robotman,
come join me
in the outerspace of my dreams
you beautiful people.
How hot does it have to get
until the haters start to love?
Who do you think you are
sunrise rider?
I’ve been down this road
crazy shaking angry.
It doesn’t do me no good,
Mrs. Flash Gordon.
Won’t you be my neighbor
all ye who labor?
The Ramones
Listen to my heart:
Sheena is a punk rocker;
I don’t wanna walk around with you,
I don’t wanna go down to the basement,
I wanna be your boyfriend.
I remember you —
Do you wanna dance?
Do you remember rock n roll radio?
Rock ’n’ Roll High School?
Blitzkrieg bop?
Gimme gimme shock treatment,
I wanna be sedated —
teenage lobotomy —
I just want to have something to do.
Bruce Springsteen
It’s hard to be a saint in the city
racing in the street,
tougher than the rest
out in the street.
I wish I were blind,
blinded by the light,
lost in the flood,
born to run.
Darkness on the edge of town,
my hometown,
I’m goin’ down,
downbound train
meeting across the river —
the river.
Tori Amos
Cornflake girl,
abnormally attracted to sin,
sleeps with butterflies.
You can bring your dog
Mr. Bad Man,
putting the damage on.
In the springtime of his voodoo
I can’t see New York,
maybe California.
Don’t make me come to Vegas,
Mrs. Jesus,
bouncing off clouds.
Welcome to England,
another girl’s paradise.
U2
I threw a brick through a window
staring at the sun
where the streets have no name —
two hearts beat as one.
I still haven’t found what I’m looking for
when I look at the world
with or without you
stuck in a moment you can’t get out of.
I will follow
in a little while
until the end of the world
running to stand still.
I fall down
when love comes to town.
Van Morrison
Sweet thing,
moondance,
these dreams of you
when that evening sun goes down
come running
into the mystic
hymns to the silence,
the eternal Kansas City
brand new day,
crazy love,
and it stoned me
hungry for your love —
I wanna roo you,
Natalia.
Potter Poems is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jopomojo.substack.com/subscribe