poem thingys

what's nice about being an english teacher is that when you make students do a certain style of writing, you sometimes feel inclined to do that writing as well. so my kids are doing poetry right now and that has spurred some recent ramblings from me, which for some reason i feel the need to share with you. sometimes i think that writing about my sister calling me a writer is a blessing and a curse for both of us, it holds me accountable to continue writing, but then it makes me feel obligated to post my writing. and well the rest is all your misfortune. so here we go:

amiable is what we aim for
it's curiosity
of independent co dependence
that keeps the crazy
from controlling
her composure.
cute and crass she's
charming in her
confidence and compliments
-to the casual
observer.

humming to herself
-in public no less-
her happiness is
hearsay
even to her ears.
but she continues
swinging her shopping bags
as heads turn.
unaware, culpable for
and in control
of the hints she's sending
simply said:
amiable is what we aim for.



NEXT!

blessing from Mother Nature

Your first intake of sweet,

life-giving air,

will be from the gust of my

wind blown blessing to you:

May the storms of your life

be summer rains

that rejuvenate and affirm

with every downpour.

May all your nights

be promises

And your sunrises crowded in

mists

bringing clarity to your

surroundings

in simple snapshots of ordinary beauty.

May your tree

of truth and understanding

grow, unhindered

by circumstance,

to mighty depths and

height

finding light and water

in the dry shadows.

May the breezes and waves

that scatter

bring chills of delight and

anticipation

as they direct you

places of

creative insight.

May your long journey

be guided with

sweet earth and

soft grass,

trimmed with

whispering meadows

for contemplation

and comfort.

stay one with me,

wholly as you,

and your last breath will be as

sweet

as the first.

Random Poems

I was cleaning my room today (yes it does happen) when i came across a notebook that contained some old poems i'd written. a few i liked enough to read a second time, despite their melancholy tone. these are the ones that i'm passing along today because I feel like putting up another post yet I am lacking the creativity to come up with fresh material.

getting old~ beautiful lies

i miss him and his beautiful lies
his mesmerising tales
of made up woes
and how sweetly he'd hold me
when he confided.

i miss the way he could find
all that was wrong with the world
keep a captivated audience,
then dismiss it all-
like blowing an eyelash from the tip of a finger-
and chase it with a beer.

i miss the man he swallowed.
the one who brought me here,
the one who would never
let these things happen to me.
he smells of death
no longer sweet sleep.
i miss him.

sorry for the mood on that one, i just liked a few of the lines...
next...

why my quilting doesn't solve the problems of the world

mapping out
fat scraps
and must have finds,
as though piecing together
this puzzle could some how solve
the fragments
that i see
in my window.
simple math,
mistakes fixed with a
snip or scribble.
in the end
the pieces add up to
less than i had imagined.
colors are off,
patterns collide.
i know why
i've only been
concealing to comfort
from the puzzle-
unbalanced equation-
outside.
another tool of avoidance-
this one just slightly
more vibrant.

the funniest part is that in the same note book on the next page is a to-do list entitled "things to stop putting off." one item is crossed out with the little amendment: "too late"

poem post #2

i'm doing two today because i have one that relates to the celebration that today is: moving in with my parents. again.

shame

i'm 28.
eating at my
parents' house
should not be
a nightly
ritual.

yet here i am
knee deep
in spring greens
and chicken
waiting for
their program
to start
on tv.




~happy moving day to me!

poem post #1

as i mentioned in the previous post, i'm trying to write more. my skill has fallen, but practice makes... better, right? i've always had a problem with being to flowery, being too wordy, etc. so here are two poems telling the same story; one where i'm really wordy and one that's a little more direct.

listening

rich words fall
like variable pearls
dripping from your ruby tongue
my heart expands
from collar bone
to belly button
and the heavy warmth
sprouts wings
making a home in every
corner of me.
my cheeks stretch and warm.
the waterfall of words abruptly
stops.
your mouth open as though another pearl
might fall out,
you look at me
as though I’m the one with
gemstones cascading from my lips.
my cheeks flush,
the winged warmth does
flips in my gut.
sound escapes you.
i anticipate the flutter of opalescent gems-
but it’s simpler
plain, even
And yet more eloquent.

-gag- the romantic element of it makes me want to puke, but it's what comes out on the first go round. here's the second:

Lane change

even in passing conversations-
like now when we’re driving-
he uses more syllables
in one word
than I do in a sentence.
my pulse races and my brain reels
trying to keep up with him.

it’s a weird turn on.

he says something amusing-
i’m concentrating on my driving-
so I simply grin.
he stops-
mid multisyllabic word-

“wow, your smile is amazing”

i blush, check my mirrors to distract myself
and he continues prattling on.
i signal and switch lanes.
…i think i just fell in love.



*i prefer the second.. my old age has made me less of a romantic :)