Wednesday, January 27, 2010
So This is Love...
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Spicing It Up
Monday, January 11, 2010
Zoom Zoom...And I'm Off
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Chew on This
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Poet's Corner
Hey y’all! This is a collection of poetry that I’ve written, some recent and some older. Let me know what you think! J And, I'm sorry, but the blog keeps messing up the indentations and spacing, making my words/transitions harder to follow. It's a real bummer, but I hope that you can still get the feel I intended...
Ocean
Freedom in the epochs of the sea
once covering cliffs,
Now covering me.
Clear, crisp freedom!
sailing weightless
I’m a seagull here,
swooping.
Refreshed, subdued, elated am I.
freedom in the silt of history
Washing all around me:
dinosaur, fern, rock, bone.
This ocean was once the sky
a sky of deep ripples and undulations
Encompassing all of us in gentle
blue.
(untitled)
All the world’s poetry
if you pay attention.
Life’s impressions, stencils
vivid half-stamps.
Our laughter, lace
looping around that which should be forgotten.
Glances, gorgeous flickers of…
what?
Radiance.
Funnel
Emptiness coupled with overflow
The two thrash and write within my heart.
Endings, beginnings, patterns
that aren’t probably even there.
Hoping, praying, hoping, hoping.
You’re gone, gone, the one I love.
My disconnect from you unreal, too real.
Worrying, hating, worrying, worrying.
It’s right, it’s wrong
I miss you, I don’t want you,
All I want is you.
Y-O-U.
you.
me.
you & me.
Who is, who ever was, you?:
The one I loved, the one I love.
Love, love, love, change, accept. Harden.
Harden & accept.
Grow, shrink, shrink, grow
A piece of me gone, for the best, maybe so.
The frustration of never knowing what to make
Of this, too involved am I.
you you you me me me
you & me.
love love love. grow shrink
GROW
Louisiana
When I think of you, the first thing I see is sticks.
Mysterious, vertical sticks that pass for trees,
Lonely among the shallow swamp water.
Then, it's a padparadscha sunset,
the color of Sally Fields' grief.
Next, a rosy face with a warped nose,
laughter streaming off it like the sweat from the gumbo pot
and burning just as fiery.
Last, moss silently waving as the big, yellow moon
and the saxophone's crescendo rise.
I see you but I don't know you. You remain my enigmatic collection of beauties cast in stark relief.
Childhood
Lately, I've been seeing jacaranda leaves casting their oval shadows on my little arms.
I sigh and lean harder against the trunk, digging my feet in the sand,
Letting the sun burn my insides bright and warm.
I'm alone, except for the sun and the leaves and the sand. It's just us, safe.
Then there's the smell of green jello, or is it green uniforms?
Either way, one smelled like the other: synthetically emerald.
And my teacher, green too, an Irishwoman.
Her skin so thin I could see her mossy tired veins.
Surrounded with oxidized copper.
Missing the sun, missing the dunes.
Three homes in three years, interchangeable in appearance and in my love for them.
Dun colored stucco, matching the soil-less garden beds.
Petunias! Oh, petunias! Pushing through the sand, fuschia.
Houses that persisted to remain dark although the sun enveloped them:
Dark woodwork, thick blinds.
Designed more with office workers in mind than a family,
Indistinct and bland. But home nonetheless;
The office furniture of my past reduces me to tears of longing.
Burned grease married the grey cafeteria,
A fine, dismal couple.
Recess a cage I could not escape,
The green grass meant to be freedom
Instead presenting me with a crisp boredom.
Mask came down; thoughts surged and resurged and resurfaced.
A botched translator of children's speech
is what I became.
Looking at the white-gold smear left by a shooting star,
Nestling my head into the cool dip of the sand,
Thinking this would last
forever