...quiet, about a lot of things...
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Excuse Me While I work
On a list Poem for class. And just to vent..let me say that this session is different than the last, which I enjoyed very much. This one has a heady..I have my Masters feel to it... and I submitted a poem last week that had the F word in it..twice...and this week I submitted the poem about Marilyn and the Kennedy brothers. No one comments much on my stuff..Oh well. The purpose is to write, right?
So on to the list poem...
WHAT A DAUGHTER LEAVES BEHIND
I've kept the door closed, because
I am good at closing doors. A room
is not empty, if one does not enter.
My hand trembles at the knob. A knob
I have always hated. Note to self.
Replace all knobs in the house. The
house that holds one less. A daughter
who's walls are seafoam green,two different
shades, just hues apart. Subtle yet easily
articulated. These walls she left behind
hold pictures of butterfly winged alphabets
and towers, both Eiffel and Empire State.
Above me, hangs a crystal chandelier with one
bulb burnt. On the desk, stands a lamp
adorned with mardi gras beads, fastened
firm by a clothes pin, holding a memory I
did not witness. She's left behind clothes
in the closet which I picked for her, that
no longer suit the occasion.There's a guitar
she did not learn to play, and an antique ice
cream parlour chair, that I failed to re-cover.
I had promised, so she wrapped the cushion in
fabric and waited. Here is the doll from Africa
and the masks in Venetian red and kitten fur black.
Theses are the things.I can bear them all. It is the dust,
made from her skin that I can not bear. I could not
sweep it away. No more than she could part with those
roses,dried darker,but still from a boy she did not love.
wlf 10:26
So on to the list poem...
WHAT A DAUGHTER LEAVES BEHIND
I've kept the door closed, because
I am good at closing doors. A room
is not empty, if one does not enter.
My hand trembles at the knob. A knob
I have always hated. Note to self.
Replace all knobs in the house. The
house that holds one less. A daughter
who's walls are seafoam green,two different
shades, just hues apart. Subtle yet easily
articulated. These walls she left behind
hold pictures of butterfly winged alphabets
and towers, both Eiffel and Empire State.
Above me, hangs a crystal chandelier with one
bulb burnt. On the desk, stands a lamp
adorned with mardi gras beads, fastened
firm by a clothes pin, holding a memory I
did not witness. She's left behind clothes
in the closet which I picked for her, that
no longer suit the occasion.There's a guitar
she did not learn to play, and an antique ice
cream parlour chair, that I failed to re-cover.
I had promised, so she wrapped the cushion in
fabric and waited. Here is the doll from Africa
and the masks in Venetian red and kitten fur black.
Theses are the things.I can bear them all. It is the dust,
made from her skin that I can not bear. I could not
sweep it away. No more than she could part with those
roses,dried darker,but still from a boy she did not love.
wlf 10:26
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Signs of the Times
I drop Maggie off at school each morning. I am usually dressed in a robe and sporting bed head. It's all I can manage most days just to stay on the road and avoid hitting deer. (This morning it was a "husky" well pointed buck..but I digress)
On the way,I pass all the lawn signs. Obama. McCain. In my neck of the woods, there are lots of McCain signs.Today,I whirled by one lawn that stood out,but there was no time to lose. High school and first period waits for no woman.
I was alone on my return trip, so I slowed to take a closer look. There stood multiple McCain signs...and one poster board,hand made sign, proudly proclaiming
"OBAMA... AND FREE SPEECH" in multicolored pencil.
How I smiled!!!!
Oh, CHANGE...it is a coming! Yippee hoo!
On the way,I pass all the lawn signs. Obama. McCain. In my neck of the woods, there are lots of McCain signs.Today,I whirled by one lawn that stood out,but there was no time to lose. High school and first period waits for no woman.
I was alone on my return trip, so I slowed to take a closer look. There stood multiple McCain signs...and one poster board,hand made sign, proudly proclaiming
"OBAMA... AND FREE SPEECH" in multicolored pencil.
How I smiled!!!!
Oh, CHANGE...it is a coming! Yippee hoo!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I Voted, Therefor I Am!!!
Go OBAMA go!!!!
Monday, October 13, 2008
Poetry Assignment
Bad Poetry. Sure I have written my share..but never on purpose. I have written things not in my voice...but intentionally BAD..."So BAD, it's good." Tough. Then heap on top for good measure, make it a love poem. WELL NOW.
Make A Wish,Love
How many birthday wishes
have been squandered?
candles snuffed, smoke
rendered heavy, carting
the cheap waxy pleadings.
Barbie doll blonde,
with fake red dye #5
sugar roses, promise
happiness, and luck thrown
in for good measure.
But only if bestowed
a corner piece, gaudy
with flourish,love laced
thick with sweet nothings;
tubed in abandon.
A lure to the greedy,
desperate to win any
prize. Craving it's
slick smooth taste
that coats the tongue
in surrender.The needy
are willing to swallow
the lies,devour them
whole, without chewing-
for fear of crushing
the truth, lurking
like a bitter pearl.
Make A Wish,Love
How many birthday wishes
have been squandered?
candles snuffed, smoke
rendered heavy, carting
the cheap waxy pleadings.
Barbie doll blonde,
with fake red dye #5
sugar roses, promise
happiness, and luck thrown
in for good measure.
But only if bestowed
a corner piece, gaudy
with flourish,love laced
thick with sweet nothings;
tubed in abandon.
A lure to the greedy,
desperate to win any
prize. Craving it's
slick smooth taste
that coats the tongue
in surrender.The needy
are willing to swallow
the lies,devour them
whole, without chewing-
for fear of crushing
the truth, lurking
like a bitter pearl.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Poetry experiment
A Very strange workshop task indeed. Rhyme with preface......also rhyme was supposed to be subtle... but that was a little too much for me........so blatant it is. I am so blatant!
Why the Sky Is Blue and Other Dangerous Questions
The sky moves by, in fits and sputters
of grey or purple or coal miner black.
Darker for emphasis, stars as beacons.
The sky moves constantly with blue
just reflection of water. What then,
reflects in the black, I wonder?
The coal miners despair? And who supplies
the claret,murky merlot purple? Which
king dips his head in surrender?
I have met the grey before,as he mocks stars.
Those brave beacons,needing only contrast to shine.
Grey;a dull flat endless nowhere,in particular.
....
She never did believe
curiosity was conceived
to kill that cat.She disagreed
with it's very premise from the get.
To be free,released, yes, to let
go is danger fraught and yet
how thrilling! She could only dream;
to cross that path, to forge that stream
of thought and wish and will supreme.
To leave this plane of mortal piss
and cough and spew and toil, this.
Just cut it loose, with good bye kiss.
To venture where she did not know.
what lurks ahead? what troubles grow?
She'd gladly trade this earthly show
toss all grey tasks she'd known so far
to gamble on some distant star,
to throw the dice, or dodge the car.
She never did agree the cat did more
than take an odds on bet, before
banking on his lives in store.
Hers much more, a deadly game,
though it may appear the same
that damned cat, deserves the blame.
Why the Sky Is Blue and Other Dangerous Questions
The sky moves by, in fits and sputters
of grey or purple or coal miner black.
Darker for emphasis, stars as beacons.
The sky moves constantly with blue
just reflection of water. What then,
reflects in the black, I wonder?
The coal miners despair? And who supplies
the claret,murky merlot purple? Which
king dips his head in surrender?
I have met the grey before,as he mocks stars.
Those brave beacons,needing only contrast to shine.
Grey;a dull flat endless nowhere,in particular.
....
She never did believe
curiosity was conceived
to kill that cat.She disagreed
with it's very premise from the get.
To be free,released, yes, to let
go is danger fraught and yet
how thrilling! She could only dream;
to cross that path, to forge that stream
of thought and wish and will supreme.
To leave this plane of mortal piss
and cough and spew and toil, this.
Just cut it loose, with good bye kiss.
To venture where she did not know.
what lurks ahead? what troubles grow?
She'd gladly trade this earthly show
toss all grey tasks she'd known so far
to gamble on some distant star,
to throw the dice, or dodge the car.
She never did agree the cat did more
than take an odds on bet, before
banking on his lives in store.
Hers much more, a deadly game,
though it may appear the same
that damned cat, deserves the blame.
Labels: Poetry Thursday
been gone..but I am back...
with a pic of the girls at the Cal game. Michael took Maggie to homecoming at Cal. I stayed behind to ride in our championships..more about that later...
here now. a pic of my real trophies....GO BEARS! PS..they won!
here now. a pic of my real trophies....GO BEARS! PS..they won!
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)
