Poem: the 20 best dressed women

Inspired by The 20 Best Dressed Women of 2014.

The Rules:  Each line is composed of words from one paragraph.  The words must stay in the order they appear.  I can use whatever punctuation I want.  (I changed one proper noun to a pronoun.)

Poem: robed

robed

with softness
and dewy eyes
let's lay down upon
that leafy cloak

the sky above
with its infinite sighs
I'll watch
taking solace from the clouds

my ear pressed
to the cool landscape beneath
hearing and kissing
all sounds of life flowing

There in the nooks
of the mountains
I can only sleep

and sleep a sleep
that ends with violence
canopies torn above me
and skin ripped by jaws

dipped in blood
from creatures charred who
crawl from fissures in the earth
and still walk among us

Poem: there's something in my closet

A silly poem I wrote in my writing prompt group.

The prompt was "There's something in my closet . . ."


there's something in my closet

There's something in my closet
it's there, if you are not afraid to see
it's big and scary, an issue so glaring
it reflects quite badly on me.

There's something in my closet
alright, I know, don't cause such a fuss
I just need some time, and a crate of some kind
and a broom to sweep out all the dust.

There's something in my closet,
by now, I bet you've called my bluff
it's no horrible monster, no spooky night terror
it's just a load of my old stuff.

Poem: now young woman

Today I did another poem made from the standout words or phrases in a magazine article I was reading (about Ellie Goulding in the July issue of Nylon). 

now young woman

Sold out,

she needs a boost

--- still going for the real thing.

Stake out. Pursue. Statement:

"I like to keep people happy."

Poem: highways & melodies

highways & melodies

I listen to the drum beat
and hate it

filled with the drag of chairs
televisions
the bottoms of cups and glasses

the horrible crumple of plastic
holding food

bang cabinet door, car door
distantly, again
and the next day
and the next morning
and the night

Poem: resting places

I've (finally!) been on a poetry kick.  So sorry, but there might be a bit of an onslaught of poetry posts.

This is the second draft of this poem.  I am always surprised to find just how much I modify my poems after not seeing them for months.  It is pretty interesting to seem the grow and evolve.

I kinda wanted to call this 'resting places for young bones' but that seemed to wordy and ostentatious.

Poem: t-shirts

This weekend was a true gift in many ways.  Unexpectedly there was some incredibly warm weather for December . . . 60-70 degrees!  Although I had my usual plans of being super responsible-adult productive this weekend, I decided to abandon them to take advantage of this rare opportunity to get outside during the winter.  There are not going to be many more (any more?) chances to comfortably enjoy the outdoors like this until the Spring.

Being out in nature helped me open up my mind.  I saw a very appropriate, sponsored bench that had been engraved "Sit and let your soul be nourished by nature."  Words to live by, in my experience.

Poem: dragon claw

For lent, instead of giving something up, I decided I would try to write for an hour every day.  It's ok if I just write a sentence or a couple lines as long as I legitimately tried for an hour.

Well, I've already totally failed at this.  It went pretty well (in that I did it, not in the sense that I actually wrote anything good or even coherent) for four days.  And then I took a seven day hiatus.

But I'm going to make another stab at it, and today I actually churned out another poem.

I'm still not sure about the third stanza (and maybe the first---and maybe also the fifth), but the third stanza (and the fifth, if I'm bragging) has come a long way in the past 45mins so I'm feeling pretty satisfied with myself for today.




dragon claw

I'll grab the land
furrows and all.
crumple the paper without mercy
or pull the rug out from under them?

it's too bad people won't be in on the fun
when their ugly walls fall backwards.
they'll keep their outstretched arms tucked behind their backs
because there wasn't much love for those walls anyway.

All it takes is a strong shoulder and a webbed elbow
to sweep in a fresh ocean of air.
A shock to their lungs perhaps
but at some point I have to stop waiting.

I'll have to dig the life out from under my nails.
It sounds horrific, but it's really the most natural thing in the world.

I've always wondered what lies beneath the surface.
for some reason I don't have high hopes.
Eventually,
It will be easy to blame me for everything,
just when everyone is feeling lucky with a chance to start again.

I'm no fool.

Poem: the eagles' nest

Started doing some poetry work today.  This one came to me only this morning.  Inspired by Baker Tower, for those who'll get that reference.

It's just a first draft, with some small revisions, for now.  I'm pretty sure that I'm going to be making some changes (I've moved the 3rd and 4th stanzas around so many times already!).  I really don't have an intellectual understanding of structure or rhythm, but I'd like to.  So I might contemplate this poem in that regard again.  I'm also still articulating to myself what this is about, and that usually means there will be stuff I'll eliminate later to achieve greater unity or I'll flesh out the imagery in a more meaningful way.  But for now . . .


"the eagles' nest"

we had a tower balcony
for one, two, three days

our eagles' nest
greyed and made of red hot stones

squinting
see just the lake
and the candied sky

the stone wasn't cold
but warm that day

we filled up space with our stretching arms
and throats
lifted higher
on budding, cherried summer breezes
hair-fluffed feathers upon our collars

barefeet
lichen against our backs

flashes of happy digital light in the night
and stars

and nothing but a fall to catch us
below

everything but holding hands
and singing "here we go round the mulberry bush"


my friends

it's all become solid
smiles in the memories