has reached its end
The muse, spent, will be taking in the waters
in hopes of restoration and recovery
Thank you for joining me
on this ruthless adventure
Long Live the Writers!!
The muse
looks
written hard
and put away
wet
as
she
meanders
through the eleventh hour
desert
in search
of a last word
to quench her
tantalus
thirst
and finds it
at the bottom
of a bottle of bathtub gin
the last fucking word
in the last fucking place on earth
looks
written hard
and put away
wet
as
she
meanders
through the eleventh hour
desert
in search
of a last word
to quench her
tantalus
thirst
and finds it
at the bottom
of a bottle of bathtub gin
the last fucking word
in the last fucking place on earth
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 30
Based on the prompt write a poem that engages with a strange and fascinating fact
Based on the prompt write a poem that engages with a strange and fascinating fact
Zyzzyva, a genus of South African weevils found on or near palm trees, is the newest last word you'll find in the Oxford English Dictionary.
ZZYZX The last place on Earth. It was originally founded by a crazy old man who named it ZZYZX since it would be the last word in the dictionary and hence "the last place on Earth". Currently it's an abandoned town somewhere Between Las Vegas and LA
Dear Bleep,
I hope you are well and enjoying all the wonderful holiday gifts that mother gave you. I am sure that the fur coat is keeping you warm this winter. You were always her favorite.
This pastel plastic pen she gave me is working out rather well to write a postcard. But truly, the Western Union wire was far more useful. So I as I scribble this note to you under the shadow of Big Ben I simply must ask -
How do you like your watch?
Love Always,
Iffy
Startled awake
by
shattering glass
and big ben alarm clocks
getting my bearings
in the snapchat
bedroom
my feet
bare
and
cracked
land
on a cold dusty floor
littered
with
instagram filters
and
gimcrack beliefs
Was
I was sleeping
through
life
?
This corpulent duffle
of daydream
drags
me
down
deep
Alkmaar
grooved
on
my shoulders
I long
like
Atlas
to shrug
it
off
I slide the straps back
and let it fall
to yesterday's
floor
Freed from that peaty wasteland
I
find
my
path
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 27
Based on the prompt to write a poem inspired by a random tarot card
Based on the prompt to write a poem inspired by a random tarot card
EIGHT OF CUPS
Deeper Meaning
Moving On
Weariness
There you are
Perched
like a cat
readying to rock
haunch
and
launch
I am
your willful prey
Yet I am the one who catches
your gilded rough
edges
in my sight
these edges long to know my depths
your face gleams glossy
in the errant beams
of a late afternoon sun
yet the long shadows of your autumn
belies your gamin ways
How I long
to hear
the stretching crack
when
I
break
your
spine
So
supple
rendered
docile
to
my
demands
You spread before me
your
ivory
lined
with
faint
beryl
veins
urging me
to please
leave
my
mark
between
Too much
all too much
I am overcome
torn jagged
by desire and hesitation
I bury
my face
deep in you
and breathe in
all your
dank cellar corners
and
musty hope chests
I am undone
and made
whole
by
you
again
and
again
the
words
stream
down
my cheeks
in
salty
rivers
of
ink
my
tears
taste
like
paper
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 26
Based on the prompt to write a poem that includes images that engage all five senses
Based on the prompt to write a poem that includes images that engage all five senses
Notions scamper
into my
mindspace
dust
clouds
catch
glitter
rays
of
sequin inspiration
flickering
flourescent
glitter
until
falling
on the
filthy floor
of my thoughts
into my
mindspace
dust
clouds
catch
glitter
rays
of
sequin inspiration
flickering
flourescent
glitter
until
falling
on the
filthy floor
of my thoughts
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 25
Fierce
femme
fatale
enrobed
in candy coated cobalt
Strong
stiff
responsive
to your
thighs
wishes
She climbed
steep twisting peaks
slowly
grinding
to reach
the glorious
summit
oh
And how
she goes
down
Enough to make you
scream
and
tighten your grip
if you can get one
listen
the wind
whispers her name
she
is
both
beast
and
beauty
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 24
Based on the prompt to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it
Based on the prompt to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it
Curled up
on the corner
of the daily grind
and the mean streets
lay a man
and
his dog
So many
walk past
without looking
without caring
or perhaps like me
so many days before
too tangled up
in our nest of needfuls
forever lost
in a 5x3
sapphire
glass
house
Until I stopped
to
see
his torn
cardboard sign
"Blankets please"
leaned up against
him
and
his dog
"What is your dog's name?' I ask dropping bill into the cup
"Jelly bean" he replied looking up at me, his deep blue eyes
meeting mine.
"I am Jenny"
"Garret" - The amber haired young man said with a bright smile. Jelly bean snarled with one snaggletooth my way "He is a bit protective"
I smile back and say I will bring a blanket tomorrow
As I leave I think how another time, another place, another life
we could have met at a happy hour, sipping liquor and slipping numbers and notions to one another
Garret and Jelly Bean
Curl up
on the corner
beneath a burgundy blanket
I bought
and
I walk back
through the door
of my ordinary life
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 23
Jelly-Bean - In United States slang during the 1910s and early 1920s, a "Jellybean" or "Jelly-Bean" was a young man who dressed stylishly but had little else to recommend him
I spoke my truth
or at least
found
the exit
and walked through it before
being swallowed
and spat back
out
on my own face
I chose a different
heaving
seat
heading
headlong
into the first summer sunday
funday festival
fear not
I have the funds
even though the ATM
is empty
I stepped boldly
off the tarmac
landing
safely
in
new
neutral
territory
where
money
horologic creativity
and
chocolate
meet
for coffee
and trade talks
If only
but no matter
You cannot turn back time
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 22
Based on the prompt to write a poem in which the impossible thing happens
Based on the prompt to write a poem in which the impossible thing happens
walk by windows
mirroring smooth
skin notions
bright eyed
intentions
set
out
on
the world
to
be
seen
the little girl
in the waiting room
whispering
She is so pretty
the many men
long
in
the
sink your tooth
into her thigh
high
wasted
life
the doctor
betraying her own
mumbling
slurs
as
old
as the
profession
she proclaimed
she couldn't
she didn't
cannot
outrun
Adrestia
she catches
you every time
leaving
long
lines
hitting
you
square
between
the eyes
leaving
deep
gouges
of
want
and
worry
behind
Pass by windows
unseen
passed by
all
Based on the prompt to wrote a poem inspired by the myth of Narcissus
*Adrestia (Ancient Greek: Ἀδρήστεια) in Greek mythology 'she who cannot be escaped'
*Adrestia (Ancient Greek: Ἀδρήστεια) in Greek mythology 'she who cannot be escaped'
I wake
but do not rise
My yeast
intentions
have not
been rendered
active
instead
sit still
in foil
wrapping
next to
sunbleached magazines
and
loose leaf
notions
I lay
in the hot ash
as my skin
forms
a
crinkle cracked
crust
I melt
and expand
I dissolve
and clabber
Parts of me
evaporate
Others
fade to meaninglessness
change or breakdown
oh but
when the time is right
the words
emerge
all warm
and Maillard browned
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 20
I pull
out
of
the closet
art
supplies
and
the urge
growing
flooding
mandalas
on the floor
the muse
gets
juicy
always
wanting
more
I breathe in
the smell
of
rain soaked
tar
and
turpentine
rain soaked
tar
and
turpentine
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 19
Based on the prompt erase words from a paragraph to create a poem
Based on the prompt erase words from a paragraph to create a poem
Sunday Night in the City
Hand in hand we lie on the bed
our edges blend
our long legs crossed like folded
white swan
wings, our long feet touching
pressing against
footboard in the shadow, carved like a headstone
the love epitaph fills our open mouths
with grapes, your hair is ruffled, dark
such soft darkness
black as walnut, curled like tendrils
wrapped around our dreams like
vines, your right hand is in my right
you reach forward offering an open
hand, my left hand in your left
inseparable we move as one
arms linked like skaters; we lie
green and hopeful
under the picture of farmland; brush
fires spread
dark and blurred as smoke, trees
those familiar strangers like little death mongers
lifting their ashen fish skeletons
like stories we held
and central to it, over us
diving deep into
the calm pond
We held our breath
Silent as if eternal
*New lines written for the poem Sunday Night in the City from Satan Says by Sharon Olds
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 18
Based on the prompt to write a poem coupled with lines from an existing poem
Based on the prompt to write a poem coupled with lines from an existing poem
Think twice
when you are 8 and 9 of 10
before
you
ignore
the lesser of the two
Because if you sit
for the better part
of a humid summer day
curling the cord
and
twisting tales
with a girlfriend
on the other side of town
waving away
the one wanting
just a tiny
tidbit
of your
time
You may find
your throat dry
and say
"June - get me a glass of water" -
you watch the little one smile and leave
She returns proudly
holding out the offering
a tall clear glass
of cold water
filled to the rim
drops of condensation
glistening on the sides
You grasp the cool glass
and take
a big gulp
but she stops you before you take another
and raises a knowing eyebrow
proclaiming
"I got it from the Toilet"
when you are 8 and 9 of 10
before
you
ignore
the lesser of the two
Because if you sit
for the better part
of a humid summer day
curling the cord
and
twisting tales
with a girlfriend
on the other side of town
waving away
the one wanting
just a tiny
tidbit
of your
time
You may find
your throat dry
and say
"June - get me a glass of water" -
you watch the little one smile and leave
She returns proudly
holding out the offering
a tall clear glass
of cold water
filled to the rim
drops of condensation
glistening on the sides
You grasp the cool glass
and take
a big gulp
but she stops you before you take another
and raises a knowing eyebrow
proclaiming
"I got it from the Toilet"
Perhaps revenge is a drink that is best served cold...
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 17
Based on the prompt to write a poem re-telling a family anecdote that has stuck with you over time.
Based on the prompt to write a poem re-telling a family anecdote that has stuck with you over time.
Image Courtesy of Scooter Lorimore
Spring rains
down upon The City
Streets slick
with oil
leached up
from pavement
Sidewalks strewn
with pink cherry
blossoms battered
off the trees
and the puddles - they are everywhere
street corners
stairwells
and random
low lying
intersections
flood
with rain water
and
detritus
I wrap myself
in the ordinary
uniform
of
Monday
dread
those meetings
spreadsheets
and the gnawing sense
that no matter what I do I will never be finished
soak me
to the bone
That is when I hear
Hunter-Wellington
calling out
Come out, Come out wherever you are
That is when I do it
everyone else rushing
through the 4 way
STOP
tightly gripping
umbrellas
briefcases
and
intentions
I stomp
wildly
into the deepest
of the puddles
Some scowl
I make my way across the street
puddle jumping
as though I were a stone
skipping across
a calm lake
Some giggle
Ka - Sploosh
I high step
through
eddying edged
curbs
An old man
in an old overcoat
Smiles as I pass
gloppy drops fall
from his kettle curl
"Nice boots!"
I wear my sunshine all day
I know
all too well
the
creak
and
wobble
of the return
Mornings
collect dust
of forgotten intentions
I run
my cracked
fingers
over
the
groove
worn
deep
by the memories
pained
by that awkward
pull
of hestitation
out of shape
struggles
slow
and
stiff
Wind whips
through tree tops
grown tall
since
winter's bare
all the colors
muted
bland
blending
sullen to sky
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 15
a second before wakening up - salvador dali fat ginger cat Image courtesy of fatcatart
So if
A surreal
ginger sleeps
20 of 24 hours
in a day
of what
wild
things
he dreams
you say?
A
Chipped
and
Tea stained
Teacup
tells
you will slip
from a slick surfaced
sill
stalking
sparrows
A surreal
ginger sleeps
20 of 24 hours
in a day
of what
wild
things
he dreams
you say?
A
Chipped
and
Tea stained
Teacup
tells
you will slip
from a slick surfaced
sill
stalking
sparrows
A
Seagull
flying far
from
sandy shore
signifies
a sock surprise
filled with nip
to sniff and kick
Seagull
flying far
from
sandy shore
signifies
a sock surprise
filled with nip
to sniff and kick
A
creaking
Wobbly table
warns
of
water
a squirt in the face
or
worse
creaking
Wobbly table
warns
of
water
a squirt in the face
or
worse
And do not forget
the
Rowboat
row row row your boat
gently down the stream
meowly meowly meowly
life is but
a
dream
the
Rowboat
row row row your boat
gently down the stream
meowly meowly meowly
life is but
a
dream
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 14
Based on the prompt to write entries for an imaginary dream dictionary
Based on the prompt to write entries for an imaginary dream dictionary
the other day
to buy myself
a purpose
the man behind
the counter culture
quipped
a price
That will cost you
a lash
and
a snot
to which I replied
you are purring down the right mushroom!
So I paid
in cash
on the spot
NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 13
Based on the prompt to write a poem in which the words or meaning of a familiar phrase get up-ended
an arm and a leg
barking up the wrong tree
an arm and a leg
barking up the wrong tree
It is difficult
to see beyond
the initial sun
against the shadows
to see if there is a possibility
of a storm
of a nice day
of a place
and time
of harmony
either way
writing is a dress
I like to keep
in my closet
hoping for an occasion
and that
hopefully
it still fits
despite
bloated
stories
I tell
myself
I have no idea
if it is
still in style
or wearing it
is a garish
costume
of a crazy person
it takes work
to wear
a dress
Constricting
undergarments
to pull
in the protruding
focus
and hopefully
remembering
to tuck in
the vestigial ribbon
of prior work
ah muse...
Always wear a dress as though you are going to meet the someone you have been waiting for
two stewards and five bottles of rosè
on a warm spring night
stolen kisses on the sidewalk
insecurity masking as respect
well-nigh willing
to make
a beast with two backs
*"Then I get to see how close I can get to it
Without giving in
Then I get to rub up against it
Till I break the skin"
to see beyond
the initial sun
against the shadows
to see if there is a possibility
of a storm
of a nice day
of a place
and time
of harmony
either way
writing is a dress
I like to keep
in my closet
hoping for an occasion
and that
hopefully
it still fits
despite
bloated
stories
I tell
myself
I have no idea
if it is
still in style
or wearing it
is a garish
costume
of a crazy person
it takes work
to wear
a dress
Constricting
undergarments
to pull
in the protruding
focus
and hopefully
remembering
to tuck in
the vestigial ribbon
of prior work
ah muse...
Always wear a dress as though you are going to meet the someone you have been waiting for
two stewards and five bottles of rosè
on a warm spring night
stolen kisses on the sidewalk
insecurity masking as respect
well-nigh willing
to make
a beast with two backs
*"Then I get to see how close I can get to it
Without giving in
Then I get to rub up against it
Till I break the skin"
*Lyrics by Ani DeFranco - Shameless
