Newt Haikus

I went to a party Saturday night that was billed as a poetry slam. I have to admit I have this weird aversion to the whole artiste theme sometimes -- I was always going to be a physicist, and so admitting that I'm a writer gets stuck in my craw occasionally. I came prepared to listen to others read their poetry, and I was also prepared to be well-behaved about it, but I had a wee bit of a chip on my shoulder about the whole thing.

Instead, they totally sucked me in with a CONTEST. I mean if you're going to make me compete, then I'm going to get psyched up, completely involved, and try to win. (In fact to be honest, we were supposed to work in teams, and I pulled a classic Karen move, and left my assigned team, grabbing just two friends to go with me whom I knew I could work with. Hey, writing is about creative genius, you've got to indulge it.)

So we picked a word out of a hat and had to write haikus and then read them aloud. I worked with my friends Eleni and Elizabeth and we won handily -- though I think mostly because everyone wrote serious poems and we understood that the way to the judges' hearts was to make them laugh. . .

And, of course, we picked the best word ever: newt. Our four poems were (and for one of them you need to know that Sunday was the huge pro-choice rally in DC on the mall) --

The frog was not a prince.
They never turn out to be.
Next I'll try a newt.

Which newton to choose?
The best Newton is a fig --
My lunchbox food rules!

Newt is off the hill.
He's not marching on Sunday.
His sister may be.

Apple, apple, splat
Under the tree Newton sat.
Aha! Gravity!