Let me just make very clear that I am not a poet. As in, I do not write poetry in general, and have not written poetry since a disastrous Remembrance Day poem performance in seventh grade. I love words. I love rhythmic lyricism and that falling through space feeling Ray Bradbury’s love poems to darkness (thinly disguised as novels) leave as gifts to all of us. But poetry? Oy. Let’s just say I’m working on it. Here are some pieces I had to write for school:
———
Family Ring:
A constellation
Dreams,
Its stars thrown loose to sky.
Then falling
Caught
It glitters foil
In pounded metal hot
Gift box.
Safe with me,
Its warmth and light
Bright love.
Aggravated Turkey
Thanksgiving cold potatoes
(Reheated!)
Clump by cheese flecked tofu moss
While judgement stiffens, sneers.
Morning Rhythms
Darkness presses
Eyes gummed shut
Traffic shushes
Horns. Alarms.
Heat of breath and
Baking bodies
Sweat beads slick my
Leaden arms.
Restless children
Skipping feet
Tap, skid, crashing
Living harms.
Get up! Right now!
To-do list pace
No sleep for bright
Metropolis farms.
Shut UP Already!
Cover
Your mouth
When you cough,
She said.
Every time.
We don’t want
Your germs.
Keep
Your elbows
Off the table,
She said.
Every time.
We don’t want
Your nerve.
Watch
Your feet
On the road,
She said.
Every time.
We don’t want
Your hurt.
Use
Your voice
When I call,
She said.
Every time.
We don’t want
Your attitude.
I’ll answer
You
When I want,
He said.
Every time.
And hack, and slurp, and run.
Your will makes bars
I must escape.
I
Don’t want
Your fear.
———
There you have it. I’ve more or less put my whole life up on this blog, so what’s a bit of anxious word-working, right? Flame at will, my friends :-)
If I have to read ONE MORE damned poem about about reheated Thanksgiving potatoes…
I know, right? I mean, gawd, you’d think SOMEONE would come up with something original. Shee-eesh! ;-)
Like poems about reheated Halloween candy?
Exactly! And now you have your next assignment. >;-}
love it. :D made me smile
Hi, Shonnie!!! I’m thrilled to have shared a smile :-)
Thanks! Your writing always makes me smile. Even when it makes me cry. :D
One non-poet to another. Poetry is merely seeing with words.
Affirmation of breath,
of the irrational scrapping against the rational,
of emotions that sizzle and pop,
of affirmation of the self.
These four jewels within this ring do just that.
Sorry, Hudson. I’m still stuck on the part where you call yourself a “non-poet”. What? If that’s the case, I’ll wear that label humbly, and hope to paint as well with words as you do, one day.
No, no, no am definitely not a poet am far from being a proper noun. Besides your doing just fine and ceciliag’s reaction is testament.
‘Okay, So They Made Me Write Poetry’; seems you have a fifth poem here.
Okay
So
They made Me
Write (strike through) Think
Poetry
‘I don’t want your fear’.. good god darling that is profound.. and a perfect last line.. may I have it? may i borrow your words and paint them on my wall and sign your name for you underneath?. c
((hugs)) You’re a sweetheart, c.
Hey, they work even better with titles.
And you’re SO a poet. Maybe you weren’t before, but you are now. So there.
Yes, ma’am. If you say so, ma’am. ;-)