Posts Tagged ‘Poem’

What Counts (Emphasis where you want it)

December 5, 2011

A poem can be read from many perspectives. Words may have multiple meanings. This poem is meant to be first read in the traditional way, from top to bottom. When you are finished, read it again backwards (still from left to right).

What Counts (Emphasis where you want it)

Potential lies down in your bed.
She stretches you out.
She works her fingernails over you.

Hammer 7 nails in your bedpost.
Slice a 5mm wide skin flap below your ninth left rib.

Slide two nails into their coffin

A place of rushing, beating noise
She made a new small bed for them

What did she do with the last (1)?

(Are you counting? You must be careful to never lose count.)
You cannot say (emphasis on the second word).
(I love you)
You can not say (emphasis on the third word) “I love you.”

Potential lies (emphasis on the first word).

Potential lies (emphasis on the second word).

Potential.

The Way Home

November 23, 2011

Color me red.
Dance me up.

Pip pop pep paa!

Swing around and snag your snarl
all around the town.

Bring me your love in a wicker basket
your Mom nestled with straw.
Scissors curled ribbons enswirl the handle on one end.
The other, she strung out against the sky.

Apple red balloons juggle themselves
around the mailbox flag.

Up pup paa!

Ten children tramp up the lawn
grass caught between toes and treads,
torrent of pumping elbows,
streaming hair.

Cool Kool Aid on the lips of these babes still in their baby teeth.
Laughing all the way home.

Grow your hair long and unlock your teeth!
Tip tip top!

Skate along a line.
Jump inside a chinese jumprope.
String along a boat.
Bounce your 4 square all the way home.

Sing and wing and swing.
Pump your sneakers and white folded socks to tuck
the whole world under yourself.
Let them fall gently as sun dried sheets
your Mom strung against the sky.

Tether one end of yourself and let the other
out against the sky.
Cleaned and warmed and kissed and kissed and kissed by the sun.

A poem dedicated to my Mom, on her birthday

In a helix enchambered

October 26, 2011

Another story.

N doesn’t have kids. He’s 43 years old and has no plans to have kids in the future. N is a good guy, but just never wanted to be a father.

Last week his sister came to visit him with her two kids, ages 1 and 4. N lives in a beautiful house by the sea. He loves the water and spends entire days with his sandals, sketchbook, and swimsuit, capturing the pink curls of shells or the swell of warm waves. He finds great joy in the search for remarkable colors and shapes.

When his sister arrived, he decided to share the most beautiful spot he had found: a white sand beach with bioluminescence in the water. Live silver that can be touched. It was a 3 hour drive from his home by the sea. He packed the kids and his sister into his car. This story happened a long time ago, so the four took the ride with no air conditioner or fast food restaurant stops. The children cried and the backs of their legs stuck to the dark leather seats.

The group reached the beach just at sunset, when the bioluminescence was most magnificent. The older child whined that the beach at night was terrible. She clutched her pail and shovel, knowing that it was too dark to build a castle. The baby was very hungry and thirsty from all the heat.

N’s sister had a thought that lingered in her mind for years to come, open and spiraling like a nautilus.

Dear reader, finish my poem. Please also give it a title.

This Wikipedia and Wikimedia Commons image is from the user Chris 73 and is freely available at //commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:NautilusCutawayLogarithmicSpiral.jpg under the creative commons cc-by-sa 3.0 license.