Mood:
hungryTopic: poetry
grandmother's china
filled with turkey and gravy
all it's ever known
***
Thanks to Haiku of the Day.
Posted by mary
at 9:34 PM EST
Sat, Nov 29 2008
A Thanksgiving Haiku
Mood: hungry
Topic: poetry
Mood:
hungryTopic: poetry
Sat, Nov 8 2008
the gentle art of haiku
Mood:
chillin'
Topic: poetry
Mood:
chillin'Topic: poetry
a swirling mist
over November hills—
bagpipe serenade
Posted by mary
at 11:24 PM EST
Sun, Jun 22 2008
Poetry Meme
Mood:
lucky
Topic: poetry
Mood:
luckyTopic: poetry
I got this poetry meme over at Cam's Commentary.
1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was a poem I wrote in the 4th grade about tornadoes. I thought it was brilliant, though my teacher was less impressed.
2. I was forced to memorize soliloquies from Shakespeare in school, and when I became a teacher, I had my students memorize and recite soliloquies.
3. I read poetry because I love words. I enjoy word play, sounds, and the way words and meaning can connect with beautiful and painful experiences.
4. A poem I'm likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is called Rufous-Sided Towhee, just a gem I spied in a literary journal one day. Otherwise, some of my favorite poets are Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, and Pablo Neruda.
5. I write poetry because I need to. Otherwise, the words will choke me and fill me to overflowing. I will be flat and bloated with words. When I write poems, I am skinny and lean, thirsty and hungry like an athlete. It’s not just about self-expression, but it’s my way of processing the world and its madness.
6. My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature. I love fiction, but I think some of the best fiction (other than plot) is composed of concise, lyrical words and phrases. Poetry-like. Still, there are different challenges to every genre and style of writing.
7. I find poetry in magazines, in books, on the internet, on scraps of paper, on napkins, on the back of leaves, in tire treads, and between my toes.
8. The last time I heard poetry, other than hearing myself read a poem out-loud, was listening to a song on the radio.
9. I think poetry is like the teabag in your tea, the honey you add for taste, the milk for color, and the spoon to mix it all together. Poetry is the swarm of thoughts that you can hardly utter. You’re lucky if you can squeeze the words into your fingertips.
If you're reading this and you love poetry, consider yourself tagged!
Posted by mary
at 7:38 PM EDT
Updated: Sun, Jun 22 2008 8:01 PM EDT
Fri, Jun 20 2008
Submission
Mood:
flirty
Now Playing: Michael Jackson - best of
Topic: poetry
My next mini-project is to get together all the poems I've written lately, revise a bit, print them out, and start submitting them to literary magazines. It's been a while since I've been published. You can go see my name on the "poets published" page at the Common Ground Review website. Yay internet!
I'm actually impressed with myself, with the number of poems I've written the last few months. There were YEARS when I didn't write much at all. And I didn't have a baby then. Maybe it's the blogging, maybe it's just on my mind more. When I'm writing poems, I feel so open, kind like during sex. You let go of the stress and worry, fall into the kiss, into the touch, into the quakes of pleasure. Poems can be like that. At least good ones. And I hang onto the sounds of words and phrases like those last tremors. If you're open enough, you lose yourself and find yourself all at once.
Mood:
flirtyNow Playing: Michael Jackson - best of
Topic: poetry
My next mini-project is to get together all the poems I've written lately, revise a bit, print them out, and start submitting them to literary magazines. It's been a while since I've been published. You can go see my name on the "poets published" page at the Common Ground Review website. Yay internet!
I'm actually impressed with myself, with the number of poems I've written the last few months. There were YEARS when I didn't write much at all. And I didn't have a baby then. Maybe it's the blogging, maybe it's just on my mind more. When I'm writing poems, I feel so open, kind like during sex. You let go of the stress and worry, fall into the kiss, into the touch, into the quakes of pleasure. Poems can be like that. At least good ones. And I hang onto the sounds of words and phrases like those last tremors. If you're open enough, you lose yourself and find yourself all at once.
Posted by mary
at 9:56 AM EDT
Thu, Jun 19 2008
Payday Loan Poem
Mood:
cheeky
Topic: poetry
Mood:
cheekyTopic: poetry
He was sitting on the bench
waiting to go home,
waiting for his girl,
she was waiting for that Payday Loan.
He was always waiting for something,
waiting like a game,
waiting for tomorrow,
but tomorrow will be the same.
The sign said No Fax Payday Loans,
fast and simple.
But hadn't he fallen for that before,
Caught with a smile and a dimple.
Before long, she was back on his arm,
maybe his luck had changed.
The sun was setting on him,
the lights silver, green, and strange.
***
Okay, was that the worst poem I ever wrote? It was an exercise in rhyme, meter, and word choice at least.
Posted by mary
at 10:22 PM EDT
One Weird Quiz
Mood:
incredulous
Topic: poetry
You are John Ashbery. People love your work but have no idea why, really. You are respected by all kinds of scholars and poets. Even artists like you.
Mood:
incredulousTopic: poetry
Um, I'm not sure about this quiz or its results.
What Modern American Poet Are You?
You are John Ashbery. People love your work but have no idea why, really. You are respected by all kinds of scholars and poets. Even artists like you.
I found his poems at poets.org (and a better picture), and just have to disagree. First, my poems are so not that long and dense! I was going to copy and paste one of his poems in this post, but... I dare not. I don't know what the other choices were. If I had my say, it'd be Sylvia Plath or Anne Sexton.
Posted by mary
at 10:04 PM EDT
Updated: Thu, Jun 19 2008 10:29 PM EDT
Found!
Mood: hungry
Now Playing: Josh Rouse - Nashville
Topic: poetry
Mood:
hungryNow Playing: Josh Rouse - Nashville
Topic: poetry
I found this poem in my old email attachments. I had sent them to myself, probably from an old or work computer. I had written to myself, "Hey, girl! Here are your files!" I can see this poem needs some work. It doesn't even feel like I wrote it, which is amazing.
****
Headache
blood seeping from ear
small hammer tapping
at the back of your eye
persuasion
for whatever you want
a challenge
to your translation
dance moving around
a red stone
only a metaphor of fire
conjurer woman
make me not a soft woman
but receptive like a womb
make me not like a honeycomb
but singular
with many allies
memory reaching down
through contractions
impulses
a hot brand on skin
movement
like human touch
mother
make me not a human woman
but a glass jar full of hue
make me not a cave
full of echoes
she has read you
you are just an utterance
a speech act
talk your own way out
of this fight with angry bees
Posted by mary
at 11:12 AM EDT
Sat, Jun 14 2008
Word Association
Mood:
not sure
Topic: poetry
Mood:
not sureTopic: poetry
Thinking about fathers and my father in particular makes me also think about my mother. And I was inspired by this prompt. I guess one of these days, I need to go through the poems I've written the last few months and do some revisions. The dreaded revisions!
***
A Memory
her words fill the gaps
of our work
like strands of sunlight
from here to there
we are shaping dumplings
or walking through a wood
our eyes to the ground
to spy out the roots we want
she tells me about a little girl
scared of caterpillars
who would hop up
on her brother’s back
at the clap of thunder
who cracked the whole length
of her fingernail
falling from his shoulders
and other times
she comes across a memory
that stills the air
then only the smoke and ash
of the cigarette between her stained fingers
fill the space between us
Posted by mary
at 8:48 PM EDT
Updated: Mon, Jun 16 2008 10:51 PM EDT
Mon, Jun 9 2008
The Thing's Gone Wrong
Mood:
on fire
Now Playing: Indigo Girls - Retrospective
Topic: poetry
Mood:
on fireNow Playing: Indigo Girls - Retrospective
Topic: poetry
Inspired by two different prompts, Lucille Clifton (via ReadWritePoem) and sleep via (Mad Kane). I think it needs a lot of work, though.
The Thing's Gone Wrong
when I watch you
I see your shame
layered like winter clothes
you wrestle
under nightmares
and strained sunlight
life's juices
leak from the corners
of your eyes, your mouth
it has taken this long
since your heart broke
to see the cracks
Posted by mary
at 11:34 PM EDT
Fri, May 30 2008
Seen
Mood:
caffeinated
Topic: poetry
Mood:
caffeinatedTopic: poetry
This poem might as well be called "An Attempted Visit" because I got to the Seen Gallery right before they opened, waited almost 15 minutes, and nada. But I could see some of the art through the many windows, and it was very nice and peaceful on their patio. Yay poetry!
Visit to an Art Gallery
May 30, 2008
robot art
yellows of an artifical sun
lucky Chinese cat
paw raised
expectantly
metal twisted into bouquets
daisies that will
never falter
moth
caught in oil
and the likeness of
plum blossoms
figures long and sad,
sister, mother, but
cartoonish
miniature clothes
woven from paper
or banana leaves
or the refuse of the
rich
this art
for their eyes,
their senses,
their credit cards
one hundred feet away
with their backs to the
white brick building
people wait
the bus stop
under oak
cigarette ashed
beer scented
human stained
picturesque
Posted by mary
at 7:44 PM EDT
Updated: Thu, Jun 5 2008 4:11 PM EDT
Newer | Latest | Older
