Tag Archives: poem

Moore

crushed, contorted, and clobbered

the surge of stunning snaps

splinters of sanctuary

stolen

 

bruised, broken, and battered

sobbing in the streets

riptide of random ruin

razed

 

My heart and thoughts go out to those who are suffering following the disastrous tornado in Moore, OK. 

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I found an old poem…

Judging by when I emailed this poem to myself, I wrote it on July 15, 2010. This poem lay forgotten because the email account I used at the time was compromised to the point where I had to shut it down. Still, I had some of them archived with another email address, waiting to be discovered. This is a rough draft–I am posting it unedited because it feels right to do so. I think I will bring it with me to the next poetry workshop, and, since I haven’t gone to that club all year, it will be very fitting, I think, to bring with me a re-discovered poem.

Sinking Suspicions
 
Proudly we raise anchor
Cheerful as the engines propel
Increase knots per hour
All the while we sing
We dance, we dine
We revel in uncommon beauty
Addicted to rumors
Of flawless design
 
An icy mountain grows
From beneath the sea
Waves crash against the base
Jagged edges hidden
We surge forward
Gripped by hubris, fate now sealed
By the time we spy the danger
There can be no retreat
 
Grab hold of a life vest
Or frayed ends of rope
Jump into the boats
As they pull away from her side
Take a deep breath
Before the cold takes you
Feel your stomach jump
As the stern jolts
 
The bow is sunken
A dread weight
On borrowed time
The others cry
You watch the hull
Disappear below white caps
The ice mountain looms
Blotting out moonlight
 
Near a century later
Some still cannot see the signs
And sail blindly toward their doom
Save our souls, we should cry
Our silence bred
Concentration needed to
Hand carve our lifeboats
The Titanic sinks again.

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A poem…

zombie, or stalker?

white-wall eyes deny him sight

ears honed only to the cry of pray

fleeing his outstretched arms

his nose catches their fear

the virus, voodoo or curse

propels him forward

ignorant to the broken leg that

drags behind

never sleeping

never tiring

ever famished


insomnia grabs him from his bed

facebook glows before his face

he reads her info page again

(since four hours ago)

texts her phone with

not-so-subtle supplication

“friendship” limps along

forever passed out

forever tired

never hungry

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Free Promo off to a Good Start

Paulo Coehlo was right.  Offering something for free is the best way to go.  Starting today, and for the next three days, my book of poems, A Modern Masquerade is available free for download.  Up until today, no one had downloaded it (not that I’m going crazy marketing this one, because I’m not), but already, early in the day, I’ve had some downloads:

Can’t help but be pleased that my little book of poems is getting read :)

Of course, this might just be friends and family…but I’d be okay with that too.

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Delays…but it’s okay.

I’m currently formatting my book of poems for publishing through Kindle.  Other versions will become available after I successfully get this version up, but the formatting is taking a little longer than expected.  I did finish editing the poems though, and am about…1/3 through the formatting.  I’ve just learned too that the book may take as much as a day to become available for purchase.  I’ll keep everyone posted here, via my blog.

As for Snowed In, there have been delays.  I have more to rewrite.  I also decided that I will offer this story free of charge, once it’s completed, as a PDF available on my website.  I’ll provide a link when it’s ready.

Not everything is delayed though–today I began co-writing a book with a friend of mine.  We’ve each committed to at least 1,000 words per day for July (and then we will see if we can continue in August or if we need a break that month).  Today I wrote 1,048 words.  I won’t be posting snippets for this book, but I am excited about it because it involves characters we’ve been writing and developing for years.

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Incoming

A bird fans out her wings
She cheep-cheep-cheeps
Races through buttercup forests
Bounds over gravel mountains
Light
Quick
On spindle-feet
Dodges a rain drop

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Letter Writing as a Catalyst

A person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill. ~ Jane Austen

Today I wrote a letter to a good friend of mine.  We’ve been exchanging letters for a couple of years and I was woefully behind on our correspondence.  I am fortunate in that she’s patient with me, but in writing her a letter by hand, I further cemented my desire to write more.  I’ve been going out too much, which, while fun, takes away from writing.

This brings to mind an earlier post I made on this blog about moderation.  There was a time when I would spend all of my free time writing.  While I pumped out a fair number of stories, poems and journal pages, retreating from life made it difficult to find inspiration.  The last few months have been spent going out as much as I could–the writing suffered, but new experiences always spur my creativity.

I need to strike a balance, because right now, the part of my brain that wants to spend its energy on writing has been severely starved.  I have some upcoming projects though that should jump-start things.  I will start tomorrow with a daily poem–they will probably be short, but that’s one of the things I miss doing.

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Hiatus Over!

I have not yet determined what, if any specific, schedule my blog will follow, but my hiatus is officially over.  Today I share with you a poem that came to me today.  It’s not about anyone or anything specific really, except maybe I’ve heard “Rumor” by Adele on the radio too many times…

 

Delicacy of Reputation

A whispered slur

Hidden in shadowy creases of rooms

His taunt, “traitor, traitor”

Grows until it fills halls and alleyways in her mind

Wraps around corners

Seeps into mitered moldings

Hangs like mildew-damp air

In a begrimed basement

Voices join in

Swell to a steady staccato

A hollow claim, once given speech

Becomes dangerous

By perception or fact

She incurs the damage

Despite frantic feats

To claw away at spindly stilts

On which rumor rests

I welcome your feedback.  I will likely bring this and/or another poem to poetry group next week, but am always eager to receive constructive criticism.  Being that it’s a new poem, I’m rarely married to any line, but I like the moments of alliteration in this one and would be inclined to keep them intact.

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“Hatty Birthday”

a finger lick of frosting
he smiles, revealing baby teeth
bright, round eyes shine
with the giggle
waging its escape

gifts wrapped and taped
curled ribbons bouncing
a skin more colorful and enticing
than the toys revealed when
paper is ripped from box

months later
lit candles still produce
calls of “Hatty Birthday to you!”
adults laugh and oblige
a toddler’s expectation–

Hatty Birthdays happen every evening at dinnertime.


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Missing Cities

embalmed in a pyroclastic fate

the burials of Pompeians await

evidence of Atlantis found wanting

ancient city bequeathed to haunting

perhaps Eden resides hidden in

Babylonian gardens, forbidden

these lost cities claimed passion and lives

a legend, with every quest, survives


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