Dinner Party

Have been working on the novel, but this very rough draft of a poem popped up tonight...

Dinner Party

We do not know the creatures

with whom we feast, not really,

using the correct fork,

keeping the napkins in our laps.

Underneath we pulsate like novas,

pant like fish out of water,

beat like drums before a sacrifice.

The temples of our bodies glow

with secrets that make us

as warm as the firelight.

We push down our wildness,

hold our raucous laughter in check,

drink wine with our pinkies up,

speak in soft tones about what, we will forget.

But underneath we are feral,

sniffing in the woods under a jaundiced moon,

gushing forth like waterfalls in spring.

We keep so much under wraps,

the good china of our souls,

the dust-covered boxes of our minds,

the birthmarks of our desires.

It is too much to lay bare

on this linen-covered table

surrounded by polite company,

so we serve ourselves up in sample portions only

and wonder why it is never enough.

Last day of April poems and thank you!

Day 30: I cannot believe it's here! Today is a free day to write on whatever we want. I just want to thank everyone who read and commented on my work. Your support gave me the push I needed to complete this challenge. Thanks to Poetic Asides and Writing Vein Playground and most especially to Read Write Poem for the various prompts. This has been a month to remember and I hope to keep poeming from time to time on this blog. A special thanks to National Poetry Month for making April such a magical time(:

A few poems today--the first loosely based on the RWP perfection prompt:

Perfect Insomnia

In the darkest hours of morning

those yet to be born

whisper in your beloved's breaths.

You count how many times

your heart beats

between the plaintive queries

of an owl.

A far off train's call takes you back

to wide awake childhood nights

safe under soft heavy blankets

watching the shadows

of passing cars on the wall.

You amble among more memories

as though on a walk in the woods,

finding daisies and bird feathers,

arrowheads and volcanic glass.

Seeing the clock numbers change

is like being able to time your wishes

to falling stars.

Your eyes do not feel heavy

until sunlight pierces

the slit between the curtains.

Only then do you surrender

to dreams.

And a haiku:

At the Museum

Cracked clay bowls, knives, combs

Still speak of people long gone

Dust under our feet

A cleave:

Awoken

Looking back I hear

So many words

magical spells whispered

being softly

awoken spoken

invoked truth

And an acrostic:

THANKS!

Thirty days of poetry cannot begin to say

How fun it's been to write and play

All of April has gone so fast

Now it's time to wrap up this last

Kick the cobwebs off the book

So farewell Napowrimo, so glad you took!

And Suddenly We Grew Brave

Day 29: Today's RWP prompt was to choose news headlines and work elements of them into a poem. I chose headlines from the science section (online) of The New York Times. They were:

Like Origami, Pollen Grains Fold Just So

The Search for Genes Leads to Unexpected Places

Found Alive: The Loch Ness Monster of the Northwest Prairie. Alas, it Disappoints.

I also used the Poetic Asides prompt, which was to begin the title of a poem with, "And Suddenly."

And Suddenly We Grew Brave

For many moons, we cowered in the tall grasses

Of our hearts, afraid.

Our truth was as elusive as the Loch Ness Monster,

So somewhere along the way we stopped looking.

We mastered the art of folding ourselves up

Into pleasing forms, like origami

And only unraveling on sleepless nights

Or in quiet rooms with the blinds drawn.

We were purposeless

as pollen grains carried by the wind.

And then one day the wind whispered words,

The echoes of our genes, stories from our ancestors

Long forgotten. We dug our hands into the earth

And drank falling rain. We doubted everything we

Had been taught and believed only what we felt.

We wondered again why we were here.

And we set out once more across

the vast prairies of fear,

millions of fireflies on a cloudy night.

This time we were not disappointed.

Road Trip

Day 28: Almost there! Followed the Poetic Asides prompt today, which was to write an end of the line poem. Here's one about not wanting to come to the end of the line...

Road Trip

Somewhere in Nevada,

Tumbleweeds racing along

Either side of us,

The desert wind robbing our breath,

No one ahead or behind for miles,

I turn to you with your sunscorched hair,

Sunglasses grazing your late afternoon stubble,

And say, “Let’s never stop.”

And you laugh and say,

“Ok.”

In Amish country, we counted carriages,

In Cincinnati, we sang our way

Up and down the dial.

In Kansas, we got homesick

For the jaggedness of NYC.

In New Mexico, we watched for UFOs.

And all along I enjoyed the ride.

But it is here in these great open spaces,

Sun set to broil,

Cacti reaching their prickly mitts

Toward each other,

Rushing toward the coast

Where you will leave and I will stay,

When I realize I don't want this trip to end.

One day many years from now,

I will be in a quiet room,

That you and I may or may not share,

And I will think of this moment.

I will not remember the nettles still stuck

In my shoe from our morning hike

Or the patch of sunburn on my right shoulder

Or even the Eagles song playing on the radio.

I will only remember

How I wished I could drive forever

On this road with you.

9/11/01

Day 27: Today's RWP prompt is to write an acrostic poem, using some word associated with us. Each letter of the word starts one line of the poem...

9/11/01

September for me meant sultry end-of-summer

Evenings, blushing leaves surrendering to breezes

Pinstripes making the diamond sparkle, headed for

The playoffs, amber-colored lights on the

Empire State at night, and planning things to do,

Making promises anew to make the most of every line,

Before that birthday when the towers fell.

Ever since, it's been as well a month for

Remembering those denied the gift of more time.

1

1

Playing with Fibs

Day 26: Feeling exhausted today. No prompts inspired me today so I decided to experiment with a short form called the Fib, where the syllable count is based on the Fibonacci Sequence in mathematics. It's a six-line, 20-syllable poem with a syllable count of 1/1/2/3/5/8:

Remember

I

know

you still

remember

no matter how you

try to show me you've forgotten.

Destiny

You

me

three words

wedding bells

till death do us part

it's not too late for destiny

Volcano

Steam

ash

lava

shooting high

before Earth breathes deep

and blows out its birthday candle

Muse

Day 25: Decided to use the Poetic Asides prompt today, which was to write a poem inspired by a song. Here's mine, inspired by When I Dream of Michelangelo by Counting Crows:

I wish I could dream

of Michelangelo

or at least of women

talking of him,

But when I awaken,

I futilely grab at fragments

like one who is drowning

reaches for air.

And when I gaze

at the waiting page,

I think perhaps the Muse

is not my friend

because there he goes

inspecting cracks

in the ceiling again.