Update

it has been two years since I've last posted. wow oh wow.

never fear, I'm working on it. eventually I'll have something. Last month was actually National Novel Writing Month and I had every intention of writing something, but really did nothing.

soon I hope to have the first part of my novel written. or at least my character figured out.

rejection. . .

Yet another one, that's a count of 3 for me. Dang it. . .now I just have to wait for that last one to come back to me.

a combined effort

Sometimes I just steal lines from people, and well, parts of this poem are stolen (thanks!) actually, I've always been told good writers borrow everything, therefore. . .I'm justified. . .I think :)


Last night I thought of you, and it rained.

The stars shook their fist at me,
leaning out the window of the heavens
so I would be sure to see.
Smelling like you, rain dances on my face,
weaving fingers in my hair.
I'm alone, teardrops squeezing through saturated clothes,
molding to my body.
I want you to infect me with your decay again.

As the rain fell, the lakes drained themselves into streams heading south.
Rivers moving in every direction,
following the twisted paths my thoughts create.
Night breaks around me,
shattering glass on slippery pavement
I shake my broken fist against the stars,
as they try to hide behind clouds.


so I'm curious, what's the theme people are seeing? I tried to make it clear, without smacking you in the face with it. . .but I want to know if it's clear enough

12 tasks

for those of you that write and read all this jazz, here's an interesting assignment I'm working on, and should *crosses fingers* get a poem out of it

1st stanza:
1-start with something doing something impossible
-the moon fell down on the sidewalk
2-Continue that picture for us. . . .
-and broke like a hen's white egg
3-4-In the next two lines, use two of your senses to describe where or when or how this is happening, and try mixing the senses up. . .
-the summer was brown and dry, but it's music
felt soft on my arms.
5-describe yourself in a weird way. . .
-I was small, and I wore a small hat.
6-Make the 'I' say something he/she desired
-I wanted nothing more than to dance on my neighbor's green lawn.

2nd stanza:
7-Make an assertion that sounds true but couldn't be. . . .
Because the Earth's core was cooling, animals felt the urge to wander.
8-Now make a truer assertion. . .
Maybe the core wasn't cooling, but I felt a coolness in my wife.
9-Write a line describing another part of your settling, using one or two of the senses,
The night stilled, settling like sugar on our yard.
10-Then repeat the initial image in line 1, but change it in a noticable way.
The moon rose up on her elbows and shook out her long blonde hair.
11-Now write a line that seems to continue the story of mood.
12-but cross it out and make it the title of the poem instead (ha! I like that)

that's what I'm working on for poetasters this week, but the stuff up there isn't mine (I wish I was, I like the moon image, and the sugar one)

the day of doom. . .

I got a copy of city weekly this afternoon, and alas, I did not get published *kicks a rock* dang it, I'm never going to get published anywhere, this writer stuff can be mighty frustrating

Awareness

I read this in poetasters tonight, and i realize I've got to put another stanza in to help explain some things (probably will be the stanza I orginally cut out) but for now, this is how it goes

Awareness

Somebody else's war
is in my heart and the pink
ribbon to expose the truth on my breast
changed into lead last week,
pulled me down near my shoes.
They shuffled through leaves
fallen off the arms of trees, covering
a trail no one wants to take
but too many women hike every day.

Shifting from plank, to cobra,
to downward facing dog, I breathe.
My heart takes up a sword
to fight her battle. twentyseven years ago
the war was lost with Grandma,
and their forces decided to rally again
against us. They push forward, their armor
crashing, the chain mail glinting
in the sunlight. I slip into triangle posture
readying my single force, watching the enemy rise
over the hill, trudging towards me.


Ok, yes, it's about my mother and her cancer, and about how I'm bound to get it some day too (read my rantings page for the story--"My mom was sick" post) but I'm curious what everyone's first reaction to this is, how they view this poem, and what I should fix. i think this one might actually go somewhere!

Night sky

I lied. My next poem's entitled "Night sky" because "Hesitating Beauty" decided it wants to be a short-short instead. go figure.
here ya go though, first daft, but I'll fix it up a bit and post it again--once I have a few people rip it to shreds

Night Sky

My heart is stuck
to the stars, as much as I pull
away and try to cut free,
it only damages me.
Nights spent in big cities,
buildings full of lights tower
above me. Flashing signs, glowing
bulbs sear their image in my eyes.
I feel a twinkle high above me tap
my heart and tug
at the arteries, but I can’t see
where it comes from.
Street lamps light up
the neighborhood, chase away
the darkness that lets pinpricks
shine, force their way
through the cloth.

Joe told me that it was a brave
hummingbird who rescued
everyone from a world of darkness.
The bears couldn’t rip holes
in the fabric, the coyotes tried
to tear it with their teeth. A tiny
bird, with vibrating wings poked
holes in the blackness
so we could lay on the tin roof, bundled
in sleeping bags and blankets to create
pictures of our own, in the stars blinking
above as they lowered an invisible thread,
tied a bowline around my heart, a string
strong enough to snap the scissors
of the three muses.