...quiet, about a lot of things...
Monday, September 22, 2008
poetry class poem
long wide and dirty
the aisle to the
little boys underwear
department
winds past purple
paisley pantsuits
and pink cashmere
twin sets. he sees
her eyes as she
tries not to look.
But she does.
She cups his
damp and fleshy
hand in hers.
instead of
turning left
she steers him right
past the bone
and ivory breast
balloons..hadn't he
once called them that?
when he was much younger..
Lacy and deflated
they scare him now.
Hollow and haunting
they Make him feel
lost and empty.
he looks nowhere but down.
Feet on the wide long isle.
he is a foreign lad
in a foreign land.
he lets her lead him blindly
past what he does not yet fathom
he wants, to the only department
he has ever known.
the place of
6 pairs to a package,
now marked 50% off.
tucked forgotten in
the corner of
the half dressed
women and the broken
men.
the aisle to the
little boys underwear
department
winds past purple
paisley pantsuits
and pink cashmere
twin sets. he sees
her eyes as she
tries not to look.
But she does.
She cups his
damp and fleshy
hand in hers.
instead of
turning left
she steers him right
past the bone
and ivory breast
balloons..hadn't he
once called them that?
when he was much younger..
Lacy and deflated
they scare him now.
Hollow and haunting
they Make him feel
lost and empty.
he looks nowhere but down.
Feet on the wide long isle.
he is a foreign lad
in a foreign land.
he lets her lead him blindly
past what he does not yet fathom
he wants, to the only department
he has ever known.
the place of
6 pairs to a package,
now marked 50% off.
tucked forgotten in
the corner of
the half dressed
women and the broken
men.
Labels: Poetry Thursday
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Six unremarkabe things...
Thanks to Joyce for the idea..
6 Unremarkable things about me:
1. Love Kraft Mac N Cheese...yep the Blue Box...With Ketchup.
2. Am not a night bird, nor an early one.....but I am a strange bird.
3. Only closed toes shoes for me.
4. I'd be a jack Russell terrier if I were to be a dog....For Sure!
5. I'm more of a jack of all trades..a renaissance girl..than a real master of
anything...like this blog.
6. I snort when I laugh...Hard...and only sometimes.....
One good thing that happened today...I went to a horse show...had some good classes myself...but the good thing was I got an update on a horse I used to own, about 10 years ago. He is the loyal mount now, of a short stirrup rider, about 8...bows and pigtails and all. Made me so happy. He's about 17 now and spends his days making his girl laugh.
He always was a good old boy. I'm proud of you Toby! (My Toblerone)
6 Unremarkable things about me:
1. Love Kraft Mac N Cheese...yep the Blue Box...With Ketchup.
2. Am not a night bird, nor an early one.....but I am a strange bird.
3. Only closed toes shoes for me.
4. I'd be a jack Russell terrier if I were to be a dog....For Sure!
5. I'm more of a jack of all trades..a renaissance girl..than a real master of
anything...like this blog.
6. I snort when I laugh...Hard...and only sometimes.....
One good thing that happened today...I went to a horse show...had some good classes myself...but the good thing was I got an update on a horse I used to own, about 10 years ago. He is the loyal mount now, of a short stirrup rider, about 8...bows and pigtails and all. Made me so happy. He's about 17 now and spends his days making his girl laugh.
He always was a good old boy. I'm proud of you Toby! (My Toblerone)
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
You'de Think I Would Have Asked This Before...
An odd thought strikes me this morning. Here it is......What Do I Need?
I have much of what I want.....but how much of it plasters over the holes of what I NEED.
A plant has a list of things it NEEDS to bloom. It can not deny that it needs them.
It can not rationalize them away, or sacrifice them for love.
So what do I NEED to bloom?
'Cuz that's what I'm supposed to do...Bloom...right?
I have much of what I want.....but how much of it plasters over the holes of what I NEED.
A plant has a list of things it NEEDS to bloom. It can not deny that it needs them.
It can not rationalize them away, or sacrifice them for love.
So what do I NEED to bloom?
'Cuz that's what I'm supposed to do...Bloom...right?
Monday, September 15, 2008
Girl, Interrrupted
So today's assignment(for my poetry class) is an intrusive narrative. Premise being, we argue with ourselves constantly. And we are the narrators, true, of our own sagas...so why not write a poem that acknowledges our voyeuristic, Omnipotent self. Why not expose the man, I mean, the girl behind the curtain.
small hands
of all the preening done
-the smoke and mirrors
or bait and switch,
it is this, the taking of
my hands, that undoes me.
my hands, the minions
of my life, the holders
of my soul and love and
life -lined up all
scribble scrambled-
caked with grime of skin
shed,tears wiped, blood
spilt,then scubbed into
submission,bleached to
calloused surrender.
my hands betray
the fraud of my
lady like ankles,of
my tailored skirt and
kitten heels.
"such tiny nails,"
she marvels. "such
small Hands"
at this, i almost utter
"not even the Rain"
like a secret
between sisters.
as i part my
lips to offer it,
she clucks and turns
my hand with hers.
"too dry, too old"
between her teeth,
not white as my own.
still,even she is not
so easily fooled.
i have no poetry
to offer.
small hands
of all the preening done
-the smoke and mirrors
or bait and switch,
it is this, the taking of
my hands, that undoes me.
my hands, the minions
of my life, the holders
of my soul and love and
life -lined up all
scribble scrambled-
caked with grime of skin
shed,tears wiped, blood
spilt,then scubbed into
submission,bleached to
calloused surrender.
my hands betray
the fraud of my
lady like ankles,of
my tailored skirt and
kitten heels.
"such tiny nails,"
she marvels. "such
small Hands"
at this, i almost utter
"not even the Rain"
like a secret
between sisters.
as i part my
lips to offer it,
she clucks and turns
my hand with hers.
"too dry, too old"
between her teeth,
not white as my own.
still,even she is not
so easily fooled.
i have no poetry
to offer.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Digging In
So, I told you that I rejoined the poetry group. Here is the poem I wrote. We had to do an ODE. Seeing as I have written NOTHING for very longish while... I might as well massacre an ode, right. So here goes.
Ode to Mongrels
"You know they are weeds!"
she said as if that should
make a difference.
"They blur your edges,
all but destroy your borders."
She used that same tone when
I was 14 with crimson lips.
"Now, REALLY, you have let
them take over. Not just this
years problem anymore. This year
and years to come".
A bold prediction, A seed
set to root deep.
She waited for me to say something.
Do something she understood.
Something that linked us
cell to cell, species to genus,
me as graft of her,
she the root of me.
She all but dared me to start
digging with my bare hands.
Tidy up my mess of uncontrolled creation,
this clutter of my unfettered pollination.
When I said nothing,
did nothing,
she turned her gaze away,
as if she always knew I
would welcome the mongrels
in my bed.
Ode to Mongrels
"You know they are weeds!"
she said as if that should
make a difference.
"They blur your edges,
all but destroy your borders."
She used that same tone when
I was 14 with crimson lips.
"Now, REALLY, you have let
them take over. Not just this
years problem anymore. This year
and years to come".
A bold prediction, A seed
set to root deep.
She waited for me to say something.
Do something she understood.
Something that linked us
cell to cell, species to genus,
me as graft of her,
she the root of me.
She all but dared me to start
digging with my bare hands.
Tidy up my mess of uncontrolled creation,
this clutter of my unfettered pollination.
When I said nothing,
did nothing,
she turned her gaze away,
as if she always knew I
would welcome the mongrels
in my bed.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Some Pictures
Just for the fun of it...
Katanga and I
Katanga and I
