Our Host
Katrina teaches English and German in a rural community in Osage County, Oklahoma. She has worked in education her entire career. This is her 18th year in the classroom. She has a master’s degree in Higher Education Leadership from Northeastern State University. In addition to teaching, she spent part of her career in higher education in admissions and student services and financial aid. It was during the pandemic that she began writing with EthicalELA. The poetry-writing community has become a staple in her life. Edging toward retirement, she hopes to return to Germany for further language study, continue writing and teaching poetry, and saunter daily.
Inspiration
What kind of learner are you? Visual, auditory, or kinesthetic? As it turns out, I am 100% visual. I have to see a new word to know it. If your name is uncommon, I might ask you to spell it for me…sorry. So when it comes to music, I often mishear lyrics. It turns out, there is a name for this phenomenon…mondegreen. The term explains why many of us hear “Reverend Blue Jeans” in Neil Diamond’s “Forever in Blue Jeans.”
Process
Using whatever form of a poem you want to create, share a mondegreen, your mishearing of lyrics. Or write about lyrics that move you to tears or to laughter. Or write what your heart desires.
Randall Mann’s poem “Mondegreen” appears on the Poetry Foundation website:
Katrina’s Poem
And this is what I heard…
“Warm smell of commitment
Rising up through the air.”
But what does commitment really
Smell like? Baked apples?
Then a few bars later…
“Her mind is definitely twisted”
Not very original really
And in verse four,
The tormented soul calls up
The captain and asks him
“Please bring me my wife.”
To which the captain replies,
“We haven’t had that spirit here
Since 1969.”
Turns out the song has survived
Without my misinterpretation
Midst the “warm smell of colitas,”
A drug-induced haze.
Her mind is “Tiffany twisted.”
Now that makes much more sense
And explains her materialistic need
For a Mercedes Benz
And for the many pretty boys (she calls men) who drive it.
With the lack of commitment,
There is no “wife” in verse four.
Of course, the colitas was not enough.
Dude wants his wine.
Reading is fundamental…
Eagles. Hotel California. Asylum, 1977.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
I wrote mine based on the word mondegreen. I love this prompt though! My brain often hears words that fit just fine in songs, and it’s not until I actually look up the lyrics or someone tells me I’m wrong that I learn any differently.
Mondegreen
It’s easy
to deceive
your brain.
For your eyes
to perceive
a lie your
ears hear
as truth.
For your ears
to receive
the words
meant to
burn
the love.
For your heart
to blind
your eyes
of pain
from the truth.
They like
to miscommunicate,
all for the
sake of
you.
Your
love.
Your
protection.
Your
humanity.
They miscommunicate for
the sake
of life.
Hope, a lovely reflection on mishearing as part of heart and truth.
Katrina, my brain is about to 🤯. Tjis was hard! This is all I can make happen for now.
Fifty Ways to Wut? [Mondegreen]
The problem was
all inside his ears,
I said to him.
Nothing hearing aides
can’t solve for the win.
Our love making requires
a remedy because…
There must be
fifty ways to mishear
your lover: Scratch
my back rack; no
need to avoid, boy;
make me a spam,
m’am; what’s that
you said to me, huh?
There must be fifty
ways not to hear
your lover. Wut?
—Glenda Funk
I love your poem and the way you’ve weaved in 50 ways to leave your lover here. Your language is humorous and I totally understand the wut? Priceless!
Haha!!! Really cute poem! I love the whole idea of NOT hearing your lover!
You are a hoot!!
I knew we’d always be friends
When she asked, “Who is Kevin,
And why are we knock, knocking
On his door?” Sorry Dylan!
LOL, this is very funny, Mo! “Knock, knock, knocking on Kevin’s door!” I’ll be using these lyrics for a good long while when listening to this song in the future. Thanks!
Mo! This is fantastic. Who is Kevin? Priceless!
Thanks, Glenda. Do you know the Dylan song, “Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door?” My friend thought it was Kevin’s door!
Hi Katrina,
I had high hopes for today because I know for certain that I sang songs all through childhood ALL WRONG but correct to me. I loved this prompt and your poem. However, I had no time to search for the lyrics or to write as I had hoped. So here’s my rough draft of a poem for today about a time when seven-year-old me didn’t use the right word.
Tough or Tender
My distant father planned a Hawaiian vacation
My sister and I on a plane all alone for 6 hours
I was seven, she was eleven
I have two distinct memories
Waking up before them
To play in the sand
And dinner at a fancy restaurant
He ordered lobster for us
I repeated, “Oh, this is so tender”
And he kept smiling and eating
He didn’t know
I meant tough, not tender
Stacey,
I struggled, too! Tough and tender feel
like two sides of the same T to me. Hey, lobster is lobster.
Mondegreen and me
“a mishearing or misinterpretation of a phrase in a way that gives it a new meaning” (Wikipedia)
not exactly a misinterpretation of song lyrics
but clearly a misinterpretation –
at some point in my high school years
I became familiar with the abbreviation BCE
I’d always known BC –
I’m Jewish and most of our religion is BC
when I first heard BCE, I heard ‘before the common error’
as a Jew maybe I could understand that perspective
so much changed as a result of the birth and life of Christ
I never could really understand why it was considered an error
I never asked –
when I studied art and archeology, I learned it was era
Jamie, this is so great. I love those memories we have of our mondegreen (experiences? I don’t really know how to use this new word yet.) That has a lot of potential–the common error. Hmmm…Thanks for sharing. You’ve inspired me to take note of all my mondegreens. Maybe some more poems coming.
Jamie!
This is funny. The possible interpretations based on one’s faith has my wheels spinning. Era and error are so similar anyway!
Miles from Budapest
I thought of All My Children
‘s Erica in danger because
only Helga knew the
hidden treasure chest
and Golden grand piano
ooh-ooooh-ooh-a-do-be-do
We parsed syllables,
searched lyrics for truth on the
You Tube to learn of a Castillo
and acres of land, many
artifacts, the list goes on:
Oh, for you, ooh, I’d leave it all.
Ah, so not quite a do-be-
do but soap opera-enough
in the fear of losing love
and deep longing to possess
you like treasures and pianos
and Hugo’s secret will–in the
end, Helga falls to her death
in Budapest.
(I loved learning there is word for mishearing– a cause for many arguments in my marriage– and thought immediately of George Ezra’s “Budapest” and the way I filled in words from the 1992 All My Children episodes set there.)
Sarah, what fun! I am sitting here listening to George Ezra now. I didn’t know that song at all. It is fun, and I love how you filled in All My Children names and events! Oh, my, that makes me think about the complexity of your mind! Nice!
What a fantastic idea to create a poem by meshing “Budapest” and All My Children. Your ooh-ooooh…do-be-do are so fun. I think I need to add more of those sound words to my poems. Your ending is hysterical. I do love the song “Budapest” although I don’t think I’ve ever understood a thing about it.
Thank you for this new word, Katrina! My mind is totally blank about song misinterpretations, although this should come naturally for me. I’ve created a misdirected poem, lol. We’ve been on the road all day, coming home from vacation…this is where my mind went…
vacation ends
I only saw the poetry title
before our long drive began
high school french
sailed me into understanding
mondegreen as world of green
ahh, working in a wee emerald
on this St. Patty’s day?
I thought
so as we drove, I remembered
the bright green fans of palms
how the ocean shined olive
when the clouds came in
thick mucky green so life-giving
in the Lowcountry marsh
how the dark green alligators
hide themselves along grassy green
mondegreen, I sing out joyfully
immersed in a world of green
Maureen,
This is a perfect subject for today “high school french/sailed me into understanding/mondegreen as world of green.” When I was setting up this prompt on the blog, I tried not to read Katrina’s prompt and was so puzzled by this word and what it could mean (I try not to know ahead of time the topics). And you got it. The last lines are lovely, too with this St. Patrick’s Day nod to green “immersed in a world of green.”
Peace,
Sarah
Maureen, shows me what holidays I celebrate without thinking! Until I read your poem, I’d forgotten St. Patty’s Day! That’s what we called it where I grew up!
I even forgot to wear green today. Oh well. I can wear it next week for Palm Sunday.
Mondegreen – a World of Green. We have so many reasons to consider the etymology of this word and what it means in different cultures. Now that we’re seeing more publications by and about Native Americans and ways they co-existed in mondegreen, I’m seeing another connection. Hmmm.
Thanks for sharing your poem and reminding us of another reason to celebrate with our poetry team, where we’re growing ourselves and nurturing one another.
Mondegreen–a world of green! I love the route your mind took as you misunderstood the word for misunderstanding words… Somehow so appropriate!~
Maureen, I’m with everyone else, too. This is great and fitting as a “misreading” of a misunderstanding prompt! (And, per usual, your vivid details — “thick mucky green so life-giving / in the Lowcountry marsh — are excellent!)
Maureen, that is a clever poem, Yes, indeed, a green world and you have given us so much to celebrate from your vacation–the “thick mucky green” “dark green alligators” “bright green fans of palms” I love what you did with the prompt today, and that you got to experience a beautifully green spring break down south.
Very fun play with green today, Maureen! Love “a wee emerald” and “ocean shined olive”. I can hear your joy throughout your poem.
Katrina–
I am so glad to have a name for misheard lyrics. Your misunderstandings made me giggle. I, too, am a visual learner, and rely on the written word to remember everything. Sometimes, however, my eyes deceive my brain and lock in the mistake. This is my story…
Save Soviet WHAT???
I had moved to a new suburb.
I took the same route to work every day, always stopping at the same light.
My eyes would drift to the left,
pausing at a sign that proclaimed, in large, important letters,
“Save Soviet Jewelry!”
Soviet Jewelry? Into what strange world had I moved?
What kind of jewelry? Silver? Gold? Diamonds?
And why should we save their jewelry?
How would we save it, anyway?
They really should have been more specific.
For months, I passed that sign and wondered at the meaning.
And then one day, at an extremely long stoplight pause,
I read it again, more carefully.
“Save Soviet Jewry!”
Ahhhhhh…
GJSands
3/17/24
Ah, Gayle.
You helped us along with this one by keep us in suspense as you puzzled through it over time. I still feel like I need another poem unpacking “Save Soviet Jewry” and the context.
Peace,
Sarah
Gayle, wow. So interesting how our eyes do that sometimes. We fill in the gaps and make common sense out of something uncommon. “For months, I passed that sign…” Isn’t that amazing what our brains do? I love the way you tell the story, and like Sarah said, I’d love to hear part 2.
Mondegreen Ode to Aretha
What she said…..
“I ain’t gonna do you wrong, while you’re gone
Ain’t gonna do you wrong ’cause I don’t wanna
All I’m askin’ is for a little respect when you come home
I’m about to give you all my money
All I’m askin’ in return honey
is to give me my propers when you get home.”
What I heard….. as a youngster
“I ain’t gonna do you wrong
but you’re gonna
Ain’t gonna do you wrong while I’m gonna
All I’m askin’ is for a little respect honey
I’m gonna give you all my money
in return honey
Give me my papas when you get home….”
This song confused me
but I loved the rhythm, lyrics, and
popularity.
I didn’t understand “do you wrong…”
and my Mother said “it means act ugly..”
I enjoyed watching
Mommy and her girlfriends sing
along, dance, discuss and testify
along with Aretha.
The way they laughed and gave each
other knowing looks, made me realize
there might have been a lot more to it.
Years later, I brought it up to a friend of mine
who was in college and she
explained the song was about Women asking for
respect and dignity from their partners.
At the time though, I just enjoyed her name (my mom said it was
VERY Southern) and seeing her perform on Soul Train.
March 17, 2024
This makes me smile; I love the misinterpretation of “Give me my papas when you get home” – that is dear.
Seana,
Love this narrative poem you craft here. The discovery, the perspective, the way you puzzled it out with the women in your life to make sense of Aretha’s words, knowing, it seems, that there was more to it from the performance and the way she sang the verse.
Sarah
Seana, I love that you and your Mom honored Aretha this way. “Mommy and her girlfriends sing / along, dance, discuss and testify / along with Aretha.” I so love that word testify here.
Your memories of this classic is sweet in your poem.
Katrina, what a great prompt. Oh, my goodness, I’ve been singing all kinds of wrong lyrics my whole life. For the most part, I never even realized the correct ones. Mann’s poem is such a great example! Thank you for sharing it and for your own poem. Your analysis of the Hotel California lyrics is so fun! I like reading inside your head and the thought process that happened. My poem is found from the article “Lyrics to 60 Famously Misunderstood Songs” How many lines you can sing along to?
Hold me closer Tony Danza
We built this city on sausage rolls
There’s a wino down the road
Give me the Beach Boys and free my soul
The ants are my friends, they’re blowing in the wind
Wrapped up like a douche another lover in the night
I can see clearly now, Lorraine is gone
Saving his life from this warm sausage tea
This is the dawning of the Age of Asparagus
I remove umbilicals
_________________________________
Elton John “Tiny Dancer”
Led Zeppelin “Stairway to Heaven”
Starship “We Built this City”
Uncle Kracker “Drift Away”
Bob Dylan “Blowin’ in the Wind”
Bruce Springsteen “Blinded By the Light”
Johnny Nash “I Can See Clearly Now”
Queen “Bohemian Rhapsody”
Fifth Dimension “Aquarius / Let the Sunshine In”
Hot Chocolate “I Believe in Miracles”
Absolutely fabulous, so funny, Denise!
This is a fantastic collection, Denise!
Okay, Denise. This is brilliant. I have to point out that the word “sausage” came up twice.
Sarah
Denise! YES!
Denise,
I know of these songs, but never thought of the last one sounding the way it did! That’s a hoot!
so many – I definitely was familiar with – Hold me closer Tony Danza; I love – The ants are my friends – what would Dylan think? and I can see clearly now, Lorraine is gone – where has Lorraine gone? could spring be the dawn of asparagus – thanks for sharing your list
So funny, Denise! I’ve belted out many of these misheard lyrics in my day! (And thanks for sharing some new ones, too!)
Denise, I’m still laughing. I loved “We built this city on sausage rolls!” So much fun here!
red, red vines
so long, red, gummy
no aroma, blend, or age
you spiral around my heart
re-connecting to our dates
at movies, paired with buttery
popcorn, not chocolate or dinner
you too can help me forget
my woes
red, red vines
or as Neil and UB40 prefer, red, red wine
———————
Katrina, thank you for this prompt, I am glad to know there is a name for this “issue”:)
I met Jennifer J. at MRA today in Lansing, MI and we presented together. Thank you Sarah again for this space and bringing us all together in so many different ways💚
file:///Users/stefaniboutelier/Downloads/IMG_4406.jpg
Well, I am trying to add a picture and it is not working;) Here is a link in case anyone is interested in seeing Jennifer and me together at MRA today…a bit anti-climatic now.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Aun5Re2Wj17My_ZFAkOdKbxL05MdGQN9/view?usp=sharing
“red, red vines” ! I love this! Very clever…an ode to licorice, so fun. These words are great, and show that candy is also dandy at helping one to forget –
at movies, paired with buttery
popcorn, not chocolate or dinner
you too can help me forget
Yay, so great to see you and Jennifer together in Michigan. I hope you enjoyed some red, red wine or other celebratory beverage!
Stefani,
I can here the voiced over section of this song. Thanks for the trip into the past. Keep me choppin’ all of the time…
Stefani, I actually still prefer red, red vines to red, red wine. This is a classic! And I love the photo of you and Jennifer. How fun is that? I wish I could have been at your session. I’d love to sit and linger and discuss with you what poetry can do.
Ah Katrina, this prompt brings back so many memories of mispronounced and misspelled names! My full name is Anna Jamar Small Roseboro. What a life!
Name, Not Fame!
Who’s to blame
When teachers cannot pronounce a name
With so many cultures
And so many languages
Spelling no longer helps
In one language, it’s AhNa
And another it’s Anah.
Letter “A”coming out through the nose
That’s how my name goes.
We named our daughter Rosalyn
But that same sounding name
May be spelled a least three ways
What’s a teacher to do these days?
Anna Jamar became Aunt Jemima
Like the lady on the pancake box
Then Ahmed Jamal. How his jazzy sound rocks!
Both are famous, but neither is me.
Get it right or we’ll have to fight.
I’m Anna Jamar! Can’t you see?
Anna, I thought maybe we’d see you at MRA today:) Thank you for this poem, you bring light to the importance of educators in pronouncing names and asking about pronunciation from first meet.
Stefani, maybe we can include this in the NCTE
presentation! Freshen it up! See your FB
Truth!!
I love this – your examples and your message – when a student tells me it doesn’t matter, I often ask “how does your mother say your name?” a student recently told me her name was Gloria (with a long O, and not like a white person says it – I appreciated her candor
Oh, I learned something new, what the J stands for in your name. Jamar is beautiful. It is important to say people’s names right, and it is not always easy. When I was in the Middle East, I had a few names I struggled with for years. They each held one or more of those three or so sounds that we don’t have in English, and I didn’t master in 8 years.
Who was that?
In the before internet times,
I loved when a radio song hit my heart like a lightning bolt
Like fate had travelled on an FM wave to tell my truth
Maybe I caught the artist’s name, but maybe I was left
Unsatisfied…
Questing-
Who was that? I might ask a friend, and try to sing it for them,
hmm hm hm hm hmmm hm!
Anything? Nothing.
And I felt alone, a little crazed to know.
I was on the hunt, constantly scanning the horizon for the phrase, lick, line.
Who was that?
Like a cute stranger on the subway I locked eyes with and never saw again
That song could have been my love
But it rode away.
Who was that?
When it struck the DJ’s whim to play it again
My ears open, eyes wide in joy,
perhaps a cassette cued to record it,
to welcome the song back,
to not let it pass by without getting its number and making it mine.
——————-
Katrina, thanks for teaching me a new word! I used to laugh so hard with my friends when we realized these misheard lyrics, and now, that moment is less, well, momentous! Thanks a lot, supercomputers in our hands! I love your dissection of Hotel California, whose beat is so fun I think I know all the words, but do I? Does anyone really, until they get up to that karaoke machine? Thanks for the musical prompt!!
Emily, I love the possibilities in your line, “That song could have been my love”–missed opportunities or ongoing hope. Thank you for sharing today.
Amen sister, amen. “ate had travelled on an FM wave to tell my truth”
Emily,
Eternal Flame by The Bangles…my heart be still. And then, even further…Love Rollercoaster. You know the woman was killed next door when they recorded it? Listen. Hear the scream?
Emily, so much truth in the way we used to listen to music. All I really got was what the DJ chose to play; I wasn’t one to buy records. I spent lots of time waiting again for “that song that could have been my love” – What a great description. And that last line, what reward: “to not let it pass by without getting its number and making it mine.” Great poem that brings back a lot of memories.
Emily, You had me at the first line. What we could have captured long ago with a smart phone. Loved your line “That song could have been my love” and “eyes wide in joy” I can so relate to everything your poem offers today!
Thanks for a fun prompt, Katrina. I have so many songs from my growing up that work of this, but only a line or two, and not all in good taste. We would tweak songs in high school chorus, of course.
I was thinking on this, and the chorus for the Bow Wow Wow song ear wormed me, and I had to go with this version of the song, “I Want Candy.”
With Due Respect To Bow Wow Wow
I know a farmer tough but sweet,
He grows the things I love to eat,
He plants the crops that I desire,
Keeps his cows behind a wire.
Iowa candy.
Iowa candy.
Iowa candy.
Iowa candy.
He gets to rest when the sun goes down,
Ain’t no harder worker in town,
The red meats aren’t what the doctor ordered,
But they’re so good they make my mouth water.
Iowa candy.
Iowa candy.
Iowa candy.
Iowa candy.
Sweet corn at a picnic, nothing better,
But I like it salted, soaked in butter,
I thank the farmer, he’s so fine,
Grows the good stuff all the time.
Iowa candy.
Iowa candy.
Iowa candy.
Iowa candy.
Yeah!
Dang, I will for sure have this song and this version in particular in my head, Rex! I love how you played with the idea of candy in this, from corn to red meat. I chuckled
as
I read this. Earworm indeed!
Rex,
This is so fun! I love how you used your butchered lyrics as a refrain amidst very pertinent poem. Clever and funny!
Ha, Rex, thank you for this, fun and it brings back memories. Maybe we can make a playlist from today’s poems–the Mondegreen playlist? Although I bet I could just find one that somebody already made. Thank you for sharing today.
So fun, Rex! The beats are perfect and I can hear the chorus in my head, plain as day. Red meats as Iowa candy, what a hoot – and as for that good sweet corn, salted, soaked in butter.. oh my gosh, you’re so right; nothing better. Not even real candy.
So, so funny. I don’t think I will ever hear this song again without thinking of Iowa. Nothing better than sugar and butter – could it be candy corn?
I’m listening to your poem right now and as sang along with your version during it the first time. Oh, my! I smiled the whole time, and I really do think she is singing “Iowa Candy.” If I hear it again, I will surely sing your version.
Rex, love the imagery of the sweet corn. Iowa Candy, it is! Very fun poem!
I don’t know.
There are times
I need to hear
the conversation
on screen, need to
know what that
character says
just before his death,
what final gasp or
declaration was
pronounced, so,
yes, we’ll rewind,
put on the closed
captioning, and,
effectively, break
the scene of its tension
slow down all the
built up momentum,
(I’ve found that if we
have the text on at the
start, though, I’ll tend
to read the movie instead
of watching it.)
but there are other
times that I’m okay
with just letting it go,
reminding myself that
Samuel Beckett would
craft entire plays that
had dialogue that was
Intentionally meant to
be garbled and misheard,
miscommunicated:
the audience left to fill
in the gaps, to build a
bridge over these (perhaps)
troubled waters.
So when I think of
misheard lyrics, I am,
often times, ok with
my interpretation of
the line rather than
the songwriters’.
I’d much rather
believe that Michael
Stipe is losing his religion
while also peeing in the corner
or that Creedence was, indeed,
singing about the bathroom
on the right, and, hey, maybe
The Eurythmics are on to
something, maybe sweet
dreams are made of cheese.
(Who am I to disagree?)
except for “Blinded by
the Light,” I really
prefer their original
lyric – “revved up like
a deuce” – instead of
what, for years, I thought
they were singing about.
I just couldn’t fathom
what a feminine
hygiene product had
to do with the song,
and could you really
be “wrapped up like” one?
I just didn’t get it.
_______________________________________________
Katrina, thank you for this fun prompt and for your mentor poem! I smiled throughout it, singing your misheard lyrics rather than the original ones. And I’m left with the same question: what does commitment smell like?
Oh, Scott! You read my mind! Just last night I am watching an episode of The West Wing when I realize I am reading the episode and missing facial expressions and such. And the songs you mention are just perfect for mishearing! There are many, many people who failed to realize Bruce Springsteen (the song writer) or Manfred Mann was indeed referring to a DEUCE! Your poems always entertain!
This is so much fun! Yes, I have always wondered about that particular lyric and didn’t know until today it is deuce. Amazing what this poetry is teaching me today, and I agree – the prompt is bringing out all the best laughter! Love your mixture of lyrics today.
Being okay with a mystery like “revved up like a deuce” is appealing to me, too! I’d rather laugh with the confused than know with Lyric Genius. So funny, and a little thought to hold
onto there. Love it!
Bwahaha! The images I’m envisioning! And what I’m henceforth going to refer to as the “breaking of the 4th poet wall” (the aside to the reader – Who am I to disagree?) is brilliantly landed. 10 out of 10!
Scott, we have become text-dependent at our house too! Closed-captioning is essential when watching British crime procedurals. And like you, I heard the same gross thing in “Blinded by the Light.” I grew up watching ALL IN THE FAMILY. Finally, I looked up the lyrics to “Those were the Days.” I always wondered what “Ye are all a sour regate” meant. It is “Gee, our old LaSalle ran great.” Knowing that we all mishear is reassuring and funny.
Scott, so funny. I was reminded of all the mondegreen in closed captioning! Sometimes the mistakes we read really change the narrative. I think I’m like you too, in that I never really tried to figure out what the words really said, I would just sing along to songs whatever I thought they were saying. There was no Soundhound app back then, so we just sang!
Katrina, I love the way your poem today progresses, and I also adore the mentor poem. Thanks for sharing a new word with me today as I was totally unfamiliar with mondegreen. My poem today is based on a memorable moment when I realized I was singing the wrong lyrics. I’m leaving this poem untitled, but I was thinking about naming it “Subconscious Wishing”…Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
Man in love
Man in love
Love, love, love
I must have been dreaming,
singing loudly
cruising down the avenue
screaming off key,
Man in love
Man in love
Love
Love
Love
I suddenly thought,
That can’t be right!
What am I dreaming?
A man in love?
Yo, dumbass, it’s
Panama
Panama
Ah!
Panama
Woo!
Barb Edler, 17 March 2024
Barb, I read your blog and laughed and had the image of you singing the wrong lyrics with all the gusto! This prompt is bringing out so much laughter and fun today, and I’m enjoying all these songs in brand new ways I’d never expected. I love that you pause and we hear your inner dialogue, too……so funny!
I love the wild abandon of “man in love!” Why not, right? Maybe it’s better than the actual lyrics! Strong imagery of that car ride and the joy of belting it out, right or wrong! Thanks, Barb!
Barb,
I’d love to see you in the car with you, having a dialogue! This one made me laugh a bit out loud, as I am crazy enough over Van Halen to hear the David Lee Roth section where he talks in the song while you are driving to the same song… The Yo dumbass clinched it.
Barb, I’m having so much fun listening to songs while I read the poems today. I didn’t know this song, but Man in Love certainly sounds like a great interpretation of what Van Halen is singing (screaming). It really did change the meaning when you learned the correct lyrics, doesn’t it? I like your proposed title.
Thank you for an inspiring prompt! Sometimes what you hear deep in the Georgia Woods can be a “ tail” of its on tale.
The Uncalling
Hear her scream along the Flint river,
Black as the night,
November frost, a panic shiver.
Hair raising fright.
Delivered
A lady lost in Georgia hollows,
wrenching fear down my trail,
A lump grows i cannot swallow,
is it the Blue Lady from Hagan’s tale?
Hell?
Statued I dare not flinch,
Silhouetted black against the death,
Petrified, I smell her stench,
she creeps with intentional stealth.
Knelt
Her Oval eyes search for prey,
Yellow sparks above ivory teeth,
Wanting to run, I chose to stay.
She strides above, I am beneath.
Bequeathed
” Lord save me from her advance,
Let her pass me by,
Grant me one more chance,
I shall give, if I do not die.”
Cry?
She pounces over my head,
A sacrifice the Doe shed
of her fawn laid in its bed,
Blessed me instead.
Fled
A scream heard only by a few,
not the ghost of Blue,
there were three then two,
I was granted to stay true!
Whew!
The lady’s vicious scream,
was not a lady at all,
erupted a Novembers scene,
it was a Georgia Panther’s bawl!
Uncall
Your narrative poem is fast-paced and action packed. I really appreciate the way you break up the stanzas with individual words that I think help show your actions/reactions. I’m not sure I’d want to run into a Georgia Panther!
Boxer, wow, what a suspenseful poem. After I read through once, and saw the Georgia Panther then I read it again. Then I thought of the Georgia Panthers football team, so now I’m going to read it again. So much tension and suspense, and the rhyming with those single words really adds to the poem.
Good Morning, Katrina!
This was a really fun prompt — especially because it gave me the opportunity to listen to my favorite band this morning for a spell. If you don’t live in the northeast part of the U.S., you may not have heard of the Tragically Hip, but I just love them and I especially love that I often misinterpret singer Gord Downie’s soulful lyrics haha! My poem is based on a mish-mosh of misheard lyrics from “New Orleans is Sinking,” “Blow at High Dough,” “38 Years Old,” and “Poets.”
Breaking Free
Some kind of heavy state
Never likes to start.
Like to the rhythm,
Livin’ at the archetypal father –
(She gathers her courage to confront him.)
Draws pictures of does
Across the front page
Seems the man had a summertime
And walled the way
(It’s been a long time running.)
When the birds and bees
heard above:
The wrecks and the cars and a
Final Accounting
On the street in the epitome
of faith
And horn speaks to the splintered legion,
of poets —
The blue on the sea –
You gotta do what you feel is real.
Blue sea complete,
Dixie dish sheen,
I can’t foresee
under sky so smoky blue-green
So we danced the sidewalk,
Clean.
Wendy, I’m fascinated by your poem, and I will have to check out this music. I love the last two lines of your poem. The idea of dancing the sidewalk clean is energetic and fun!
We danced the sidewalk clean…what a wonderful phrase!!
Wendy, I don’t know the group or the songs, but the poem has a wild sense of freedom building throughout. It’s absolutely captivating! I lingered on every lyrical line, savoring the feel and flow of the phrases.
What a great idea for a poem. I love the lines and phrases and poem you’ve built from mismashed lyrics from the songs you list. I’m listening to your songs by Tragically Hip right now. Interesting. You are right they are not familiar, but I’m enjoying them now. You have misinterpreted some beautiful images and lines:
“On the street in the epitome / of faith”
“The blue on the sea – “
“So we danced the sidewalk / Clean”
Katrina, what a fun challenge! We look at mondegreens in 7th grade and this will be fun to add to the unit. This is as far as I got this morning – heading out to the Michigan Reading Association JOY convention!
Katy Mondegreen
I remember listening to
Rap City in Blue
And the Tattoo Detective,
cracking that whip
when I was little,
long before I became
black toast intolerant.
I grew up fast.
Once my father cheated and mother
carved her name into his legacy,
we left town.
She always said I was his
spit and image
With a birthdate of
March 17,
I earned the nickname
Lady in the Green
*nods to Gershwin, Devo, milk, Carrie Underwood, the original of spitting image, and Sylvia Wright
So clever, Jennifer. The “spit and image” line–whoa.
First, Jennifer, Happy Birthday! There is so much to love here in your poem. The Spit and Image is such a fascinating spin on the phrase, taking it from one to two separate things. I love the lines I grew up fast and we left town. These show the hurriedness and hurt that life can bring when we least expect it. I, too, left town with a young daughter who grew up fast, under those same circumstances – so your lines resonate so powerfully with me. I know you will have a happy birthday at the convention!
Ha! I almost moved this into third person so readers didn’t think this was me – but I’ll take the birthday wishes early (it’s actually July 4). It’s also interesting to know that spit and image is the original and spitting image is now a mondegreen we’ve adapted into our language.
Wow! Happy Birthday. Black toast intolerant cracks me up…it IS a true thing in itself. And then….I’m all serious by the end. Bravo!
Thank you! I appreciate early birthday wishes (it’s in July) and will hold yours until then :). I should have written this in 3rd person!
This phrase was stunning!
“Once my father cheated and mother
carved her name into his legacy,”
Loved this, Jennifer!
I love “black toast intolerant.” It makes perfect sense to me.
Jennifer, I’m still laughing at “black toast intolerant”. What a fun poem and enjoy your Reading Conference!
Thanks, Barb! It was a good day.
What an amazing montage, Jennifer! Your poem reminds me of the origin of the word mondegreen (the creator hearing Lady Mondegreen instead of “laid him on the green” in reference to a murdered earl). I confess to looking that up today. I am awed by all the fascinating phrases in your verse, and how they connect so very well, line by line.
Yes! I did some searching on that as well and thought it would be fun to nod it in.
Happy Birthday, Jennifer. Missed MRA this year. Where’s it scheduled next year.
Re: terms :I grew up with “spittin’ image”, too. Never quite sure it was a positive or negative declaration! Hmmm. Now, I’m still not sure.
Ha! It’s not really my birthday. I should have changed this to a 3rd person narrator! MRA is in GR next year! It would be lovely to see you there.
Jennifer, this cracked me up! So many great nods. “Rap City in Blue” started it out well. Fun! Good for you to come up with this before you went to the MRA convention and your presentation. Impressive!
Katrina,
Thank you for helping give name to something that has been so fun to uncover over the years . . . the wrongly sung lyrics. I laughed out loud this morning and started our dog when I saw your reference to Reverend Blue Jean, because, yes, this seventh grade girl when forced to do a solo in General Music class indeed sang “Reverend Blue Jean.” Jeesh, the embarrassment was compounded. Why didn’t I have the liner notes? Well, I didn’t own the record. I recorded the song on cassette from the radio and furiously scribbled the lyrics as I often hit pause. Do kids today know how much they have it made with music and lyrics??
Your poem is classic. You definitely shined a light on some very misinterpreted lyrics.
Here is the story of one of the many funny misinterpreted lyrics that have become legendary in my family and friend group . . .
Born to Botch
The Boss had been my long-time fave,
an odd choice among my peers
but being the youngest of four
exposed me to a lot.
I had spent the summer nights
listening through the paneling
as my older brother’s turntable
scratched out the Born to Run album
on repeat.
I loved how one song would rock the house
and the next would put me to sleep
the harmonica’s squeal
obnoxious yet not.
At times, propped in my bed,
I’d futilely try to scribble down the lyrics
so I could understand the plot,
sing along
with accuracy,
or ease my curious head.
One day when my brother was at work,
I dared to pick up the album sleeve
next to his bed
to get a closer look at the man whose
gravely voice filled our basement bedrooms.
There
on the liner notes
were the lyrics.
all of them.
what a bounty of discovery!
The songs started to make more sense,
his images solidifying in my mind.
The one that had perplexed me the most
and sometimes kept me up at night
worried that our house might be
haunted by a demon . . .
It wasn’t “Dead Devil in the Freezer”?
My young Catholic brain no longer
had to ponder whether Satan
was a few rooms away
next to the packages of the side of beef
and frozen TV dinners, pot pies, and pizza
in the deep freeze.
My eleven-year-old brain was never so relieved
to read the words
“Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out.”
~Susan Ahlbrand
17 March 2024
Susan, I can see this entire scene–the little girl creeping into her brother’s room, paging through lyrics, then looking relieved. How great to record (pun intended) this memory.
Susan, what a ride! I love your play on words in the title of Born To Botch – the boss born to be wild. If anyone ever wondered about the power of words to affect us, your poem brings both the fear and the peace of the before and after discovery of the lyrics. That detail of a frozen devil in the actual freezer next to a pot pie, waiting to be thawed out with the rest of them, might well be an idea of what would happen if someone did discover a frozen devil in a freezer. All the whatifs…….thank you for sharing this memory!
Susan,
LOL! This was great. I love how you skillfully built this to its climax — I was riveted waiting to hear which song it was!
P.S. I also appreciated your story about transcribing lyrics from the radio — been there!
Susan, first of all, if you were going to get anyone’s lyrics wrong, I’m glad it was the Boss’s. We saw him for the first and maybe only time last year. Secondly, how did those of us VISUAL LEARNERS born before Spotify, Pandora, and Sirius XM make sense of any rock and roll lyrics?
OMG! So glad it wasn’t a dead devil in the freezer, Susan! I’d have never slept nor gone looking for ice cream ever again!
Susan, what a great way you have told this story. Love the relief you felt with finding out he wasn’t singing about the dead devil in the freezer! So funny!
Katrina,
I am so thankful that there is a word for misheard lyrics. I’m a fan of Coxy.Official, and when the whole bed is shaking with my laughter at night, my husband knows I’m watching Nathan Cox on Tik Tok. He’s the king of music mondegreen, and so thanks to you, I now know this misheard lyric genre has a name – – mondegreen (his vids are for adults, and it’s not the words as much as his reactions that get my tickle box turned over). Thank you for hosting us today, and I love the poem you wrote with one of our favorite group’s lyrics and a favorite song. You definitely gave it a unique spin with the wife and wine and….colitas…., and now it makes me want to go to all those songs I often mis-sang growing up. I was never sure whether Clapton was saying She don’t ride, she don’t ride, she don’t ride cocaine or she’s alright, she’s alright, she’s alright cocaine, but either way you sing it, it works. Mine was a misheard text that became a phrase for us shortly after we married.
Loyding On Purpose Now
notification
his familiar text ding~ I
knew what it would say
same time, each morning
and his words never get old
or lose their meaning
I pulled up his text
unaware it would become
our new word for love
his ear-clogged iPhone
or else his autocorrect
sauced up his message:
I loyd you, he’d sent
over and over I laughed
trying to respond
in all-cap letters
I replied: I LOYD YOU, TOO
we’ve been loyding since
Awwwww, you two are in loyd. Funny! This is such a fun prompt. Katrina has hit this one out of the ball park today. I’m having fun.
First – I loyd how you and I both crafted in haiku today, Kim! Second – this poem is so precious for what it reveals, knowing what the ‘ding’ means before you ever read the message, because of the reliability of the relationship. A sweet read, sparkling with the ever-present Kim humor that I also loyd so much.
Oh, Kim, what a sweet poem! So many couples have their jokes, but yours will stay with me. I bet your “Loyding since” will find its way in many poems now. Thank you!
Hee hee! I love this story and your take on the mondegreen, Kim!
Kim, I LOYD this! And you! There’s an insight into your relationship, the fun of it, they joy of it, throughout the poem. Such a fun read with you this morning.
Kim— I really loyd this!!!
Kim, your poem is perfect. It’s amazing how texts can sure mess up, but I will remember “loyding” for a long time. Lovely!
Katrina, what a great prompt! My journal is paragraphs long of memories…especially one memory of being corrected on my pronounciation of the word, brooch. I couldn’t think of any way of sharing but to turn it into a funny…limerick…for St. Patty’s Day.
There once was a lady cockroach
Who wore a glittering brooch
Pinned tight to her thorax
She couldn’t relax
But her style was beyond reproach.
Love!! I can see this stylish lady cockroach (ooo la la) before me – the only one I have ever appreciated! A great limerick is hard to beat. What a great lesson, too, on the correct pronunciation of “brooch”. Isn’t it a marvel how one word can bring a whole idea, a whole new creation, into existence?
A great way to capture that “broach” in a poem, Linda! Love the limerick; it serves well here, and “a lady cockroach” has quite a distinct character. Thank you for this gem!
Linda, this works on so many great levels – the humor is great medicine with the image of a lady cockroach wearing a glittering brooch, the science is amazing for teaching the parts of an insect, and the wondering about what would make great animal and bug fashions if they wore things. And who doesn’t love a limerick, especially on St. Patrick’s Day? This could be a children’s picture books with all sorts of things that make all the bugs and animals unable to relax and tell why they don’t wear clothes. I love what you have here, this poem to stand alone or this seed to grow many similar rows of verse that become a collection. Bravo!
Haha! Clever, clever limerick and so appropriate — thanks for the chuckle!
Linda, love it! What a perfect way to capture the pronunciation mishap. I’m thinking of all the ways we could incorporate limericks and rhyme into strengthening misunderstood words (lie/lay, effect/affect) and how this could be a way to have kids show what they understand. This is a riot of a limerick.
I can certainly understand mispronouncing “brooch.” For years, I thought almonds were silvered. Silly, I know, but sounds better than slivered, which rhymes with slithered.
What a great way to demonstrate/teach the pronunciation of brooch. Such a cute limerick! I love the “glittering” brooch the cockroach wears!
Katrina, your poem is pure fun in the attempt to make sense of misheard lyrics! The smell of commitment-! Love that you were wondering if it was akin to baked apples, and your observation that “definitely” twisted seems like a lackluster lyric (because, yeah, it certainly would be; who expected “Tiffany” twisted?). Our poor pattern-seeking brains, working overtime to decode messages… this prompt invites all sorts of hilarity and I can’t wait to see what others will do with it. Now…I know there are at least a half-dozen songs I could write about but the only “mondegreen” moment that comes to mind is this scene that I’m using. Maybe I’ll write some others when I can remember them…thank you for the great new word and all the fun today!
Why Would the Lord Look at THAT?
Music is his thing.
Even as a little kid
he counted the beats,
making untallied
tally marks on his whiteboard.
At five, he joined me
at choir practice,
singing the hymns and medleys
with greatest gusto
and remarkable
musicality for one
so young and so shy.
Around Eastertime
he seemed perplexed.
He finally asked:
“What does it mean, Mom?
This part: He looked beyond my
fault and saw my knees?
“It’s NEED,” I told him
when I managed to draw breath,
laughter-tears streaming.
Good morning, Fran! I have just seen today’s prompt and your poem is already posted. How do you do it so early? Thank you for sharing bout your son’s love if music. The mondegreen at the end is priceless, but I would, probably, hear the same at first. What a treasured memory! Thank you for sharing. I need to try and remember my mondegreens 🙂
Giggles here! Love it. I need to go back to my journals of when my kids were little. Some of those mondgreens were hilarious! This one too.
Fran, I think Mondegreens are especially funny when children reveal what doesn’t make sense and ask for us to clarify, and we see why they are standing there quizzically scratching their heads. I know that must have been a moment of sheer laughter and one of those times where everything around you – the where, the when, the who – was all preserved in a visual memory that as forever etched in your mind. How fun to be able to bring that back up – and with a wedding coming, I can see a bride lifting her wedding dress to reveal a knee when he sings it the first way he ever heard it and the way it was written. This is such an precious memory, and thank you for sharing it!
Fran — lol! Adorable story. I think he had a point, though — if you’re on your knees, praying…He could look beyond your fault and see your knees…lol. I think he was wiser (and more metaphorical) than he knew, a poet and English student in the making! XD
Haha, I love this story and poem, especially at the beginning where we see his sweet love for music. This reminded me of a story. When driving in the car we had a cassette tape with church hymns sung by children. We would sing along with them in the car, and my daughter would sing “Bringing in the Sheets,” which certainly made more sense to her than sheaves.