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Friday, April 30, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - #30

Riding a bike in the exhaust of cars
On streets black-tarred where trees once bravely stood
And climbing a hill. We couldn’t go on
So flung our two-wheeled steed on grass
While car-fumes passed like dragon-gas
From wars in days of yore.
Cucumber sandwiches for tea but they
Belong to times long-gone as well
And who could tell? We had French bread
A long wide loaf and shared the green
Cucumber passed from hand to hand
While drivers wouldn’t understand
But we were exhausted
Riding a bike
Two saddles two wheels two riders and
Two trees to wave us on.

The final ReadWritePoem prompt is whatever we want it to be, so I'm posting one of my poems from the PoeticAsides challenge, where the prompt was "exhausted."

Thursday, April 29, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 29

There’s a column at the edge of the newspaper
Where the news it quite over the edge
And entertainment truly wedges
More than a foot in the door. They hedge it in
With wider columns and pictures that hide it away
But each day I open the page and search inside
Eager to read the strangeness it says and the curious view
That it gives to my world. The paper’s unfurled
Stretched over dishes and plates on the table. I’ve wedged
That column at the edge between cereal and juice
’cause it wakes me up more pleasantly than the news.

Written for ReadWritePoem #29 front page news

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 28

I used to write
With mushroom clouds
And endings to it all.
I used to say
How I would watch
The day bombs start to fall.

I well knew how
To make friends cry
Drew dragon’s tears from eyes.
I’d share them all
And call them all
With haunting lonely sighs.

I used to write
An end to it
And maybe still I will.
But in the garden
White caps rise
And spill with summer’s fill.

I used to write
And weep, today
I’ll try to smile for you.
For see the shapely
White on gray
Are summer cloud’s renewed.

Written for ReadWritePoem #28 - intuition - freewriting

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 27

Puppy dog flies
Up up in the sky.
Puppy lands with a sigh
Proud and perky and why aren’t
You pleased?

Don’t you understand how he flies, puppy dog and the child?
Or maybe you’re just jealous; you’re waiting while he
Goes away so that you get to try.

Flying’s not magic, he tells you, sweet son, it’s just fun
Lifting wings to the sky as the dream’s just begun with
Imagined white feathers adorning your long weary arms
—goose-down armor the son says dear Mom—
Ever raising you higher
See Mama now, see how we fly.

Puppy dog flies.

Written for ReadWritePoem #27 - acrostic

Monday, April 26, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 26

Dig in your backpack they said
In the back of the drawer
In the box you’ve hid under your bed.

Look on that old envelope
Screwed up bank note
That ancient deposit slip.

Back of the hand?
Maybe you wrote something there once
But it’s long washed away.

All those places we poets are meant to leave words
Like seeds in the hope they’ll grow further
If we let them wait.

My words are buried and singing
In the back of my mind.
Kind of hard to dig there.

But I’m growing fine cobwebs
And musical spiders to spare

Written for ReadWritePoem #26 get scrappy

Sunday, April 25, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 25

The sky’s gone gray
They didn’t say
It was going to rain today.

We’d planned to go
See flowers and so
It really isn’t fair.

My Gran would say
It’ll do okay
There’s still enough blue there.

But we just moan
The clouds have grown
The sunshine’s growing cold.

My Gran would smile
She often did
The sun’ll come out in a while.

Enough blue sky
To patch a sailor’s
Britches make them bright.

I wonder if
We get the choose
The way that we grow old.

Maybe we just
Wake up one day
And see the sky’s turned gray.

Written for ReadWritePoem # 25 from the first thing someone said to me after reading the prompt.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 24

In year of the farm
They beat their swords to ploughshares
Refraining from harm.

With pruning hooks adorning spears
They buried war in the rain
In freedom’s reign.

In the year of the gun
They weren’t quite sure they’d won
They argued law.

Words kill and more
They whispered, shouted till
They’d had their fill

Nations shall not lift up swords
They said
Unless they’re ours.

Carrying the art of war in their arms
Destroying field and farm
They buried truth and promise under harm.

In the year of the end
Friend had the right, bore arms
And ended them.

Written for ReadWritePoem #24 based on a well-known phrase

Friday, April 23, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 23

If I measured the decibels of your tears
I guess they’d be right up there with things
That you shouldn’t do to your ears.

I feed you with formula to keep you quiet
From a bottle that measures how much of it goes inside
If I measure your diaper I’ll know how you grow.

You know there’s other formulas too
So I’m going to work it out
The rules for setting you down without making you shout.

But the tears are loud so I pick you up again
And your ears are beautiful. Sweet little child
All of you is.

Written for ReadWritePoem #23 - unlikely couple - analytical father falling in love with his child

Thursday, April 22, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 22

The squalling clouds shed tears last night
While sunshine painted pepper on the sky.
Rainwater bled the light away
To black and white and gray.

Reverberating roadways crawled
On fields of yesterday till colors all
Were saffron rust and locked away
In black and white and gray.

By dizzied crow, fierce shoots appeared
With tendrils green that flinched amid the fear
Of yesteryear. I tried to pray
For black and white and gray.

The earth’s emporium, mustard-seed
Of hope tomorrow wakening the tree
Belabored hearts might turn away
From black and white and gray.

Then morning wakes
And colorizes dreams.

Written for readwritepoem # 22, a wordle of Reverberate
Rust, Saffron, Pepper, Tomorrow, Emporium, Dizzy, Squall, Fierce, Crow, Flinch, Tendril: and earth day.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 21

In the top corner of the bathroom
By the shower
There’s a web where a spider spends hours
Just watching and waiting
To stare at me.

I’d scream of course
If he were in the bath
But mostly I cope by not looking up.

I did the vacuuming today
And could have blown him away but decided not to
A stray thought suggesting
Maybe spiders eat other creatures
That might hide somewhere out of reach.

I tell myself
He’s only offering to help
And clean away
All the insects I still haven’t seen.

I’m seriously hoping he’s not a she.

Written for ReadWritePoem # 21 perfectly flawed

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 20

You put me on a pedestal
My feet were made of clay
You trusted me to be your all
I slowly dripped away

You tried to carve my name in lights
Writ large across the sky
Then learned I was afraid of heights
A broken promise I

You made me more than I could be
And more than dreams could tell
You were my all, you set me free
Than bound me to your valiant pedestal.

I’m just a statue fallen down
I’m broken on the earth
But now you lift me up I’ve found
In you true love’s rebirth

Written for ReadWritePoem #20 the hero poem, for my husband, my hero

Monday, April 19, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 19

When darkness grows
When dreams slow down
To drops
and ticking clocks

When shadows bleed away
The words you want to say
To me

When all you’ve ever heard is lost
In all you’ve wished and haven’t got
When hopes become betrayal’s cost
And anger’s sudden hurt is all you see

When time won’t play your song no more
Nor sing your tune
So sore
Your heart
That’s when I’ve prayed for you

Bright sunshine startles with its light
Until the night’s

You say “Guess what” then I remember
Has always answered
His plan’s worked out okay

Written for ReadWritePoem #19 sudden realization of the truth, inspired by startling answers to recent prayer

Sunday, April 18, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 18

There’s a tiger in the grass
She won’t let the lions pass
You be careful not to sass
That fearsome tiger in the grass

There’s a lion cub at bay
In the corner and I pray
You won’t get too close they say
Lions eat you by the way

There’s a panther hear him roar
As he slips behind the door
And his eyes see far and sure
Wait, he’s coming back for more

There’s a little kitten crying
For her dinner she was trying
To be bigger now she’s flying
Little winner, meow, me-ighing
Better feed our little cat.

Written for ReadWritePoem #18 meow

Saturday, April 17, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 17

I washed you long ago, and flowed
To cleanse your hands and eyes.
Releasing tendrils that had bound you tight
I set you free.

I washed you in my cleansing fire
While sacred words dripped softly on your head
Soothing your fears and though you cried
The truth would set you free.

I washed you slippery sliding under
Bubbled foam and slithering fun
I washed you pouring down like rain
I washed your happy days and pain
I washed you and I will again
But will you come to me?

You wash the hurt with soap and I
Bring hope.

Written for ReadWritePeom #17, elemental - I picked water.

Friday, April 16, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 16

I remember helping in the yard
when I was small and roses broad and tall.
Thorns long as needles pricked my skin,
and petals gray as cobwebs daubed my hair.

I remember hating roses then,
mistaking their perfume for scents of soil
for worms and beetles, grubs and toil,
their color for despair.

I remember wondering was it a sin
to hate yard-work when God had made
such a beautiful world to live in.

Then I grew up. My husband brought me roses
sweet as love with sprouting shoots
I nurtured till
new blossoms spread their beauty in my yard.

Written for ReadWritePoem #16 scents and memories

Thursday, April 15, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 15

Going to build a garden flower
Going to grow a river tower
Going to wash in sandy showers
Going to find that sunshine.

Going to make that battery wind me
Going to run where lost can’t find me
Stopping clocks that try to time me
Entertaining sleep-shine.

Going to weep with pearl-white tears that
Shed the joys and shed the years I’m
Going to reap with diamond shears I’m
Counting sheep tomorrow.

Going to ride across the rainbow
Going to slide beneath the pain so
I can hide and I can gain some
Fun instead of sorrow.

Going to fly!

Written for ReadWritePoem #15 carrying a tune and practicing being silly, to the tune of Bobby Shaftoe

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 14

the father held the answers and the reasons in his heart
seasons for hope the start of all things keeping promises too close for
flower’s bloom, the towering gloom of forest, watchman’s doom
was filled, o’erpowering dreams that waited till the world’s unraveling
restart, rebuild and he the holy braid
repeating all he’s fallen still
for wind that blows the promise filling
the seasons reasoning sweet answers
keeping home-fires burning hope returning
heart still yearning sends the one who understanding this
flashes furious flame unleashed a breeze that forest’s trees can speak its words
true hope eternally forsaken, newly heard.

Written for ReadWritePoem #14: a CLEAVE poem: The left hand (bold) words form the first stanza. Right hand (unbold) words are the second. And the whole poem read normally is its own third stanza. At least, I think that's what the definition meant.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 13

The churches fell to flowers long ago
The people fled
And beds of daffodils have measured waning hours
And tears they shed.

The stones broke into blossom long years gone
Some said the sunlight lit them so they glowed
Today they sign their names
To season’s will.

The windows broke of course, the shattered glass
Is shredded underneath the overpass
But if you close your eye the steeple shines
With needled pines.

His chapel fell but worshipers return
From black and white to where the fires still burn
And ashes on the ground are flowers that tell
His tales again.

Written for ReadWritePoem # 13, not quite starting with the line "His chapel fell into flowers long ago" from a poem by Norman Dubie.

Monday, April 12, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 12

The broken window won’t let me in.
The slide’s on its side in the garden
With carrots and turnips climbing through dreams
Where broken glass refuses to let me pass.
Childhood ends when your thumbs turn green.

The broken window’s outside the house
And shadows fill the rooms
But a mouse is hiding underneath geranium blooms
And the stadium roars for victories unseen.

I think if I pretend I’m inside
I’ll see the toys and games and realize
That nothing’s changed.
Old lady sits in her chair and knits
While carrots and turnips and climbing frames
Slide through her dreams.

Written for ReadWritePoem # 12 - nonsense sentence secret code

Sunday, April 11, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 11

There’s a moment there when colors meet the eye—
Horizon slipping sideways and there’s tulip fields forever—
There’s a moment when you have to decide
If you’ll walk among the yellow or the red.

There’s a moment there when shades of sunrise flounder—
Everything you’ve missed surrounding everything you’ve seen—
There’s a moment when you can’t decide—
You stand among the flowers, transformed, transfixed.

There’s a moment there when shoes stick in the mud
You wish you’d gone the other way around where ground was firm
So you imagine now. I’m wondering
If all decisions end up soiled like this.

Written for ReadWritePoem # 11 - writing to something you didn't choose - in this case, the right path through the tulip field

Saturday, April 10, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 10

I’ll drive a rental car I guess,
From strange hotel to carpark where
I’ll ask the way
Then see him cross the stage
And if I’m really lucky
Watch him smile.

I’ll breathe the plastic scents I guess
Of cleanly crowds and hear them cheer
As on the stage
Beneath the heated lights
Each child is changed
I’ll see them smile.

We’ll eat in some hotel and then
Our fingers bent we’ll pack the car
With his possessions
Record of his days
Then as we head for home
I hope he’ll smile.

Maybe we’ll even talk
The day he walks.

Written for ReadWritePoem #10 - celebration

Friday, April 9, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 9

Dark walker crossing the deep divide
You’ve made the chasm wide then campfire lit
Where winter’s torches hide, where silence sits
Entrancing darkness haunting deep divides.

You’ve made the chasm wide, relit
Heart-fire and soft-strummed music, fit the sound
To stow with dancing marionnettes around
This chasm where the campfire’s lit.

With strumming music’s flitting sound
Dark walking overhauling deep divides
Recalling startled night’s domain was mine
His talons strumming music’s hidden sound.

Dark walkers crossing deep divides
With winter’s torch to hide in summer’s pail
Be-fringed with poet’s dance the shadows hail
My name limp-writ beneath where music hides.

written for ReadWritePoem #9, including 12 words from a list - flap, winter, torch, pail, jug, strum, lever, massage, octopus, marionette, stow, pumice, rug, jam, limp, campfire, startle, wattle, bruise, chimney, tome, talon, fringe, walker

Thursday, April 8, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 8

“Fingers was made before forks,” my Granddad said
Back when I still believed that storks
Made babies.

“I like him,” he said when I brought a young man home.
We scratched our names in sand
Till the tide came in.

Fingers tap computer keys
But my heart’s key
Was a letter from the young man, penned to me.

Fingers came before pens as well,
And dreams switching from child’s to mine
Remind me Granddad’s gone.

Perhaps I’ll write his name in sand
Next time the tide comes in.
Then child and man and I will dine, with forks in hand.

Written for ReadWritePoem #8, unusual metaphors for love

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 7

In sun-cut shadow
Dark-haired half-unseen he seemed
The one, not who I
Thought, a stranger, loved him though
He’d never change.

In sun-lit day my
Eyes need to adjust to see
Change cannot mend it
Still the changeling arrow blends
Two into one.

Sun holds my heart he
Keeps my soul protected stills
My fear, no more I’ll
Catch a stranger’s eye or hide
Unseen, fills me.

In sun-cut shadow
I’m not who he thought me still
As one together
Bought a promise, future hope
Found love we sought.

Sunlight will wake
The changing hope makes both
More than before.

ReadWritePoem #7 said we should write a tanka about an amusing romantic episode. I guess I lost the rules along the way.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 6

On keeping a picture of my dog as a screensaver.

Desktop, the screen-
Saver, it seems

She used to wait;
Me typing; her fate
My plight.

Face turned away;
Eyes turned; they say

Why do I keep
Her picture? See,
Still mine.

Look in her eyes—
Still black and white,
Still shine.

Memories can’t feel
Memories can’t steal
The time.

Image refreshed
Background redressed
Hey there.

Dark against light
Dream against night
Not fair.

Can’t hear her paws
Can’t see her—pause—
Not there.

Can’t feel her fur
Watching her stir

Till one last time,
One last sad line,

Desktop: The screen
Saver still seems alright.

Written for ReadWritePoem #6, converse with images

Monday, April 5, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 5

That blank stare, was it mine or yours?
And you’re still there.
I thought we’d said goodbye.

I watched your empty eyes then as you left
That half-felt wave
Like words still not quite penned upon the page.

I watched your empty gestures, wondered still
Were they once filled
With love for me?

That blank stare.
You’re still there.
Okay, I’m trying to talk to you.
If you’d just answer once or twice maybe
Don’t look at me like I’m not there
Like you just couldn’t care

That blank stare.
The muse demanding poetry
Of me.
It isn’t fair.

Written for ReadWritePoem #5 give your poetry a personality

Sunday, April 4, 2010

April - NoPoWriMo - 4

If life was a picture, flowers would bloom,
And people would gather and talk in the room
Of the shining outdoors.

If life was a picture, they’d hang it on walls
And people would gather in whispering halls
Of the rich, not the poor.

If life was a picture, the wise man would tell
How its image reflected the future so well
And he’d ask us to see.

If life was a picture, the painter would cry
And he’d paint himself into the scene and ask why
Aren’t they talking to me.

The cross on the frame signs His name.

Written for ReadWritePoem #4 Inside Out

Saturday, April 3, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 3

It’s not the dark that scares me. See,
I’m walking without light. The night
Is bright enough for me.

It’s not the shadows. Watch them flee.
They have no words to answer me.
They haven’t heard my cry.

It’s not the walls. They try to close
Me in, surround on every side,
But I just pass them by.

It’s not the memories either. They
Were just another night or day,
Another time of life.

Not this, nor that, but sudden snatch
Of thought or light or image catches
Fire, detaches me.

He touched me
Who should not desire
Such sin.

Written for ReadWritePoem, April 3rd prompt - something that scares you.

Friday, April 2, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 2

He used regular white
Paper for his boat
And folded it
To make it float.

He used regular blue
Paper to make a kite
To fly the sky.

He used regular sand
Paper to scratch
The scars and lines away
That marred his face
When age took him too far
From boats and kites.

He used regular bright
Paper in many vivid hues
And typed
His story all his did-s and done-s and do-es.

They disappeared.

He used regular news
Paper to line the bench
And cover hope and tears.

One day we read he’d died,
Just as he feared.

Written for ReadWritePoem’s April 2nd prompt; use something for which RWP is an acronym to inspire your poem.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

April - NaPoWriMo - 1

Smile empty soul
And they won’t see
The tears behind your eyes.

Unstable land won’t let you fall
If you hold tight to memories of lies.

Count on your fingers, toes;
There’s 30 seconds to Mars and war
And dreams that no one knows.

You switched the TV on, opened the book, and read the chapter -
V for victory
For dying -
And you cried.

Ah, empty soul
Did memories and lies agree on this
That no one else should see your eyes?

I read another chapter now
Becoming I for mine
And 30 seconds slowly ticking by
To wonder why.

Written for ReadWritePoem's April 1st prompt: use five CD titles in a poem. Being musically, or albumly challenged, I read five album labels from the shelves in my son’s room and made this list.

smile empty soul
30 seconds to Mars
becoming i
Chapter V