my soul, inflamed and bitter
Giorgos Seferis, from “Pantoum,” Collected Poems (Princeton University Press, 1969)
- Las cosas que perdí este año
no se pueden recuperar,
he intentado de muchas formas,
sin excusas me he quedado ya.
No se pueden recuperar
los besos que se extinguieron,
sin excusas me he quedado ya
para no olvidar cómo se sintieron.
Los besos que se extinguieron
se repiten otra vez en mi memoria
para no olvidar cómo se sintieron
pues el tiempo está en mi contra.
Se repiten otra vez en mi memoria
los silencios guardados en mi mano
pues el tiempo está en mi contra
por las cosas que perdí este año.Las cosas que perdí este año, Denise Márquez Voy a escribirte un poema
Tal vez lleve tu nombre
No espero que lo veas
No quiero que te asombres.Tal vez lleve tu nombre
En cada uno de mis huesos
No quiero que te asombres
Todo es culpa de tus besos.En cada uno de mis huesos
No espero que lo veas
Pero hay un espacio que dice:
“Voy a escribirte un poema”.No sé cómo se escribe un poema, Ricardo G.Our lives avoided tragedy
Simply by going on and on,
Without end and with little apparent meaning.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.Simply by going on and on
We managed. No need for the heroic.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.
I don’t remember all the particulars.We managed. No need for the heroic.
There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows.
I don’t remember all the particulars.
Across the fence, the neighbors were our chorus.There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows
Thank god no one said anything in verse.
The neighbors were our only chorus,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.At no time did anyone say anything in verse.
It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.
No audience would ever know our story.It was the ordinary pities and fears consumed us.
We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor.
What audience would ever know our story?
Beyond our windows shone the actual world.We gathered on porches; the moon rose; we were poor.
And time went by, drawn by slow horses.
Somewhere beyond our windows shone the world.
The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog.And time went by, drawn by slow horses.
We did not ourselves know what the end was.
The Great Depression had entered our souls like fog.
We had our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues.But we did not ourselves know what the end was.
People like us simply go on.
We have our flaws, perhaps a few private virtues,
But it is by blind chance only that we escape tragedy.And there is no plot in that; it is devoid of poetry.
Donald Justice, Pantoum of the Great Depression (submitted by awanderingjew)- A PANTOUM FOR THE BROKEN-HEARTED
The flowers festering like diseases
at the side of a dying gaslight road
bloom black and blue and bruised
in a city staggering over its ghosts.
At the side of a dead gaslight road,
my little sister mourns our mother going mad.
In a city staggering over its ghosts,
it’s hard to handle humanity with any sanity.
My little sister mourns our mother gone mad,
our love lingering in pressed flowers and paper stars.
It’s hard to handle humanity with any sanity
when every touch is a thorn pricking blood from our hearts.
Our love lingers in pressed flowers and paper stars
blooming black and blue and bruised.
When every touch is a thorn pricking blood from our hearts,
the flowers fester like diseases. - Trapped in a Nightmare
A pantoum
I am the ghost of oaken thresh.
Steal me in your sight.
Winnow the slate between these beams.
- I’ll never be afar.Steal me in your sight,
Sprint me to the mountain mouth.
I’ll never be afar
(For my shrouded smoke surrounds).Sprint me all to the mountain mouth
To ridden me away
For my shrouded smoke surrounds
- Sing as you may, my dear.To ridden me away:
Winnow the slate between these beams,
Sing as you may, my dear
But I am the ghost of oaken thresh! Cold Charm
With chilling claws, cackling,
The crisp autumn wind careens.
Through copper leaves, crackling
Adrift the curling navy trees.
/
The crisp autumn wind careens,
Craving climate’s bitter breast,
Adrift the curling navy trees,
Above the pumpkin crest.
/
Craving climate’s bitter breast,
A witch enchants the tempest’s tail
Above the pumpkin crest,
Towards a shrouded shadow vale.
/
A witch enchants the tempest’s tail
Through copper leaves, crackling,
Towards a shrouded shadow vale
With chilling claws, cackling.
- When he whispers in your ear,
promises of the warmth of his embrace
and the heat of his lips that taste of pomegranates,
remember you are not Persephone.
Promises of the warmth of his embrace
won’t ice the plains where your mother planted seeds;
(remember you are not Persephone)
A flower will not bloom where you have been touched.
Won’t ice the plains where your mother planted seeds
because she does not wield the frost of winter in her fingertips.
A flower will not bloom where you have been touched
and the seasons will go on without you.
Because she does not wield the frost of winter in her fingertips,
her wrath will not bring you back home
and the seasons will go on without you.
The harvest is near and you’re ripe for the picking.
Her wrath will not bring you back home
when he lures you away from your blooming fields
the harvest is near and you’re ripe for the picking.
You are not Persephone, but he is Hades
when he whispers in your ear.“Not Even a Goddess is Safe”; t.a.c.
- Mama just means keeping someone else alive
even if your voice is a snatched wisp of air,
as if saying – mail is here, and your name is on it.Brittany Rogers, “Pantoum for Postpartum,” published in Tinderbox The Terrible Two
Little Timmy just turned two
He’s loosening his parents screws
“No” is his favourite word to use
His parents don’t know what to do
/
Hes loosening his parents screws
Climbing walls into other rooms
His parents don’t know what to do
He’s painted all the ceilings blue
/
Climbing walls into other rooms
He’s wearing nothing but his shoes
He’s painted all the ceilings blue
He’s burning out his parents fuse
/
He’s wearing nothing but his shoes
“No” is his favourite word to use
He’s burning out his parents fuse
Little Timmy just turned two
//
Electricarmchair turned two today. I hope you guys are ready for a third year of daily poetry![ I plan to have some new things happening soon! ]
Thank you for supporting my poetry and stuff.
- Laughter
While in the car you sat,
laughter was in the air.
And as you blushed and bit your lip,
he drove.
Laughter was in the air,empty cans littered and drenched the floor.
He drove.
The car sped past the light.
Empty cans littered and drenched the floor,And as you blushed and bit your lip,
the car sped past the light.
While in the car you sat.
- Something About the Trees by Linda Pastan
I remember what my father told me
There is an age when you are most yourself.
He was just past fifty then,
Was it something about the trees that made him speak?
.
There is an age when you are most yourself.
I know more now than I did once.
Was it something about the trees that made him speak?
Only a single leaf had turned so far.
.
I know more now than I did once.
I used to think he’d always be the surgeon.
Only a single leaf had turned so far,
Even his body kept its secrets.
.
I used to think he’d always be the surgeon,
My mother was the perfect surgeon’s wife.
Even his body kept its secrets.
I thought they both would live forever.
.
My mother was the perfect surgeon’s wife,
I can still see her face at thirty.
I thought they both would live forever.
I thought I’d always be their child.
.
I still can see her face at thirty.
When will I most be myself?
I thought I’d always be their child.
In my sleep it’s never winter.
.
When will I most be myself?
I remember what my father told me.
In my sleep it’s never winter.
He was just past fifty then.
.
.
.
[Linda Pastan]
- Highschool
You are not in wonderland
You are in high school
Grades mean more than health
Alice can’t help you hereYou are in high school
Everyone cheats and lies
Alice can’t help you here
You’re not going to sleep until 12:00Everyone cheats and lies
Sports are the gateway to popularity
You’re not going to sleep until 12:00 am
Tired minds won’t get you anywhere but the officeSports are the gateway to popularity
Grades mean more than health
Tired minds won’t get you anywhere but the office
You are not in wonderland - Thunderstorm
Thickening air, humid and oppressive
Restless clouds darken the sky
The wind blows strong, intent, aggressive
The land waits – on edge under the storm’s eyeRestless clouds darken the sky
Lightning slices through the gloom
The land waits – on edge under the storm’s eye –
For the thunder’s deafening boomLightning slices through the gloom
Echoes – the land applauds
For the thunder’s deafening boom
The rain – like jugs of water – poursEchoes – the land applauds
The wind blows strong, intent, aggressive
The rain – like jugs of water – pours
Thickening air, humid and oppressive We’re angels in clouds of cigarette smoke and lust,
and I realize I’m smoking your brand just for the taste of you:
a mouthful of empty promises.
It’s 3am and there is nothing poetic about this loneliness.I realize I’m smoking your brand just for the taste of you.
You’re tarring my lungs, leaving a permanent mark.
It’s 3am and there’s nothing poetic about this emptiness
and eyes darker than the vacant corners of this apartment.You’re tarring my lungs, leaving a permanent mark.
Here are the bruises you left on my flesh, here is my broken halo,
and eyes darker than the vacant corners of this apartment.
I am nothing - a pile of windswept ash, the last taste of you.Here are the the bruises you left on my flesh, here is my broken halo.
I’m an angel in clouds of cigarette smoke and lust,
but you are nothing - a pile of windswept ash, the last taste of hope,
a mouthful of empty promises.Hallowed Hollow // b.h.
- They Boil Blue
I bought three red cabbages;
They were marbled purple and white –
A swirl of blueberry tears and warm milk
Whose violet blood stained the grout, slowly spreading out.
…
They were marbled purple and white,
And they were cut to ribbons – I cut.
Whose violet blood stained the grout, slowly spreading out?
A ridiculous, cruciferous romance.
…
And they were cut to ribbons – I cut –
A swirl of blueberry tears and warm milk,
A ridiculous, cruciferous romance.
I bought three red cabbages.
- Westerly Wind
Tonight on my patio, distance sounds
like fragments of conversation
carried away by a westerly wind
through voices whispered in the night
Like fragments of conversation,
when you reveal yourself to me
through voices whispered in the night
you fill this empty atmosphere
When you reveal yourself to me
like smoke drifting from a fire,
you fill this empty atmosphere
the same way you will find me
Like smoke drifting from a fire
tonight on my patio, distance sounds
the same way you will find me,
carried away by a westerly wind So she becomes accustomed to silence.
Draws a line down her spine and splits herself in two,
decides her left side will stay.
Watches the mirror like a television screen.So she draws a line down her spine and splits herself in two,
decides her right side will walk away.
Watches the mirror like a television screen
relearns herself noting everything in intricate detail.So she decides her right side will walk away.
Feels empowered rather than sad, rather than bitter,
relearns herself noting everything in intricate detail,
takes time to celebrate herself.So she feels empowered rather than sad, rather than bitter.
She tells the truth and feels free,
takes time to celebrate herself:
this is how she heals, this is how she forgives.“How she heals” by Cassie Lewis (via daydreamsandheartbeats)
as it breathed out, savoring September,
trying to bask in a bliss
that could leave you to remember
that moonlight tasted like a kisstrying to bask in a bliss
often forgotten is the texture
that moonlight tasted like a kiss
leaving the moment a derelict mixtureoften forgotten is the texture
that could leave you to remember
leaving the moment a derelict mixture
as it breathed out, savoring September-Paredes de tu amor aprisionan
necesito ya escapar.
La luz de tus ojos
no me deja ver más allá.Necesito ya escapar
escribo con crayones.
No me deja ver más allá
tallo palabras con colores.Escribo con crayones
sobre el cielo de esta cárcel.
Tallo palabras con colores,
pido una voz como rescate.Sobre la ternura de esta cárcel
no me podrán nunca encontrar.
Pido una voz como rescate
que me lea en tu mirar.Vuelta y Giro.- We Showed them All
We showed them all
We found love
And we climbed up a tree to show it off
The world saw
We found love
We kept it clean
The world saw
And they shattered it
We kept it clean
And we cherished it forever, high in our tree
They shattered it
You fell from the tree, the love was gone
We cherished it forever, high in our tree
We climbed up the tree to show it off
You fell from the tree, the love was gone
We showed them all - A Man Can Only Witness Beauty
Today is the type of day
Where a man can only witness beauty.
There are no worries to worry,
There are no cares to carry
Where a man can only witness beauty:
On a walk through the world.
There are no cares to carry,
There are unseen dangers of many.
On a walk through the world
A man may no longer exist.
There are unseen dangers of many:
The drunk driver, who aims to hit.
- Mockingbird Part 2
A sequel to Mockingbird
Silly, Silly Mockingbird
Why let your heart to dream?
Your voice should not be heard.
Your promise you cannot redeem.Why let your heart to dream?
The pain is in your imagination
your promise you cannot redeem
This is not your damnation.The pain is in your imagination
The words I said to you
This is not your damnation
That was very stupid of youThe words I said to you
The words were meant to improve
That was very stupid of you
You shouldn’t try to disapproveThe words were meant to improve
Pointing out mistakes along the way
You shouldn’t try to disapprove
I’ll tell you how to feel every day.Pointing out mistakes along the way
You shouldn’t allow your heart to long
I’ll tell you how to feel every day
In this cage you do belongYou shouldn’t allow your heart to long
Your voice should not be heard.
In this cage you do belong
Silly, Silly Mockingbird. - Afrique #1
Du souvenir présent de l’Afrique natale,
Je suis l’orchidée blanche au parfum sombre et lourd
Et s’éveille en mon cœur la quiétude fatale,
La douceur du climat où l’humidité sourd.Je suis l’orchidée blanche au parfum sombre et lourd
De forêts où les arbres sont des cathédrales,
La douceur du climat où l’humidité sourd
Étouffe le désert, apaise l’astre pâle.De forêts où les arbres sont des cathédrales,
Je suis les cris de femmes à la tombée du jour :
Étouffe le désert, apaise l’astre pâle,
Des hommes le murmure et tam-tams des tambours.Je suis les cris de femmes à la tombée du jour,
De la terre à la nuit, il s’élève le râle
Des hommes le murmure et tam-tams des tambours,
Musique et grondement des rumeurs ancestrales.De la terre à la nuit, il s’élève le râle
De la mer à la vague qui se rompt toujours,
Musique et grondement des rumeurs ancestrales.
Je suis infiniment bercée par le retourDe la mer à la vague qui se rompt toujours,
Et s’éveille en mon cœur la quiétude fatale,
Je suis infiniment bercée par le retour
Du souvenir présent de l’Afrique natale. © Fabienne Passament, Correspondances, 2013
- Among the Stars
A camp for souls who live among the stars
I’m so happy that I get the chance to go
Maybe some of us will get to go to mars
One day this will all be so long agoI’m so happy that I get the chance to go
Two weeks of learning of the world above
One day this will all be so long ago
Like when I saw the sky and fell in loveTwo weeks of learning of the world above
Working together to discover all
Like when I saw the sky and fell in love
This is truly a moment for recallWorking together to discover all
A camp for those who live among the stars
This is truly a moment for recall
Maybe some of us will get to go to mars Time passes
Just right here
Mornings like butter; evenings
Like, teaJust right here,
Soil like blood,
Like tea.
We are sitting and watching the sunset.Soil like blood,
Like going home like,
Sitting and watching the sunset.
Laughter like waterLike going home; like
how time passes; like
laughter; like water
like mornings and evenings and butter-like going home like
- The Tale of Canis Rufus
Step quietly - these are no longer your woods.
Let your sandy fur caress the swamptree bark;
it is no small wonder that it does not belong to you,
though your pawprints pattern the river from your prance.
Let your sandy fur caress the swamptree bark.
It feels like home, but there is no room for red ears.
Though your pawprints pattern the river from your prance,
the water’s step has been slowed by human hands.
It feels like home, but there is no room for red ears.
Your paths are carved through the forest and
the water’s step has been slowed by human hands.
Sing your song. Mourn your love. Grieve your loss.
Your paths are carved through the forest and
it is no small wonder that it does not belong to you.
Sing your song, mourn your love, grieve your loss,
but step quietly - these are no longer your woods. - Pantoum #3: i'll plead induced insanity
I’m not sorry
About what I did
Your death
Brings me joy(What I did
On that camping trip
Brings me joy
To remember)On that camping trip
You dragged me
To remember
My proper placeYou dragged me
In the woods I knew
My proper place
What you could doIn the woods I knew
No one would hear
What you can do
When we’re aloneNo one would hear
The sounds that come
When we’re alone
Your secret takes overThe sounds that come
When I’m your canvas
Your secret takes over
And I existWhen I’m your canvas
You’re quite the artist
I exist
To be bruisedYou’re quite the artist
And you just laugh
And bruise
And lastYou laugh
With your fists
At last
You put me underWith your fists
We will never let me be
Reality
I pray for yoursSoaked in your violence
Under your boot
Lost in your anger
I’m trying pleaseUnder your boot
I’m your fiction
I’m trying to please
Post-screaming nowI don’t live here anymore
In my body
Post-screaming now
Lost in your angerIn my body
Trapped in weakness
I pray for yours
You don’t deserveTrapped
Sudden quiet in bags
You don’t deserve snoring
You objectLocked in your bag
You died screaming
You object with
A loud, piercing soundI’m not sorry
You died screaming
The loud, piercing sound
Brought me joy 9:09
The clock turns
9:08, 9:09
I am still
I have not left bed in a day9:08, 9:09
Tap-boom-tap loops on the radio
I have not left bed in a day
The beat repeats, loses senseTap-boom-tap loops on the radio
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears
The beat repeats, loses sense
I have heard this all beforeI can hear my heartbeat in my ears
I am still
I have heard this all before
The clock turns- karmaalwayswins
- Luscious Lotus Locks
My man has beautiful thick blond hair,
Tied back with cord when it demands.
“Behold, glorious ponytail!” I declare.
I got myself a long haired man.Tied back with cord when it demands,
Falling modest on his shoulders.
“I got myself a long haired man!”
I say as I hold him closer.Falling modest on his shoulders
In delicate waves of dirty blond.
I say as I hold him closer,
“I wrote a poem and your hair’s the cause.”In delicate waves of dirty blond,
“Behold, glorious ponytail!” I declare.
“I wrote a poem and your hair’s the cause!”
My man has beautiful thick blond hair. - Pantoum of Twin Peaks
Diane, I’m holding in my hand a small box of chocolate bunnies.
Excuse me, is there something wrong, young pretty girl?
It’s not the first time, it won’t be the last, but I’m in that doghouse again.
Your milk is gonna get cool…Excuse me, is there something wrong, young pretty girl?
They found my friend Laura… lying facedown on a rocky beach.
Your milk is gonna get cool…
Break the code, solve the crime.They found my friend Laura… lying facedown on a rocky beach.
How long have you been in love with her?
Break the code, solve the crime.
I like to think of myself as one of the happy generations.How long have you been in love with her?
Sometimes things happen just like THAT.
I like to think of myself as one of the happy generations.
It is happening again. It is happening again.Sometimes things happen just like THAT.
Shut your eyes and you’ll burst into flames.
It is happening again. It is happening again.
The things I tell you will not be wrong.Shut your eyes and you’ll burst into flames.
Black as midnight on a moonless night.
The things I tell you will not be wrong.
Better to listen than to talk.Black as midnight on a moonless night.
Smell those trees. Smell those Douglas firs.
Better to listen than to talk.
The owls are not what they seem.Smell those trees. Smell those Douglas firs.
J'ai une ame solitaire.
The owls are not what they seem.
That gum you like is going to come back in style.J'ai une ame solitaire.
It’s not the first time, it won’t be the last, but I’m in that doghouse again.
That gum you like is going to come back in style.
Diane, I’m holding in my hand a small box of chocolate bunnies.Assembled by Adam Wilson, 2012
Her name was Leelah
With pretty lips and beautiful face
A girl so brave and strong
One to look up toWith pretty lips and beautiful face
Her name was never josh
One to look up to
Pretty little LeelahHer name was Never josh
Do not misgender
Pretty little Leelah
Who sacrificed so muchDo not misgender
A girl so strong and brave
Who sacrificed so much
Her name was LeelahHer name was Leelah- Snow Fall~ re posting
It blended well with the wind,
all the warmth my eyes could hold.
Spoke of hearths warm,to softly bend
the frozen tendrils lost in the fires’ gold.
All the warmth my eyes could hold,
seemed so fragile by design.
The frozen tendrils lost in the fire's gold,
intangible moments,forever entwined.
Seemed so fragile by design,
spoke of hearths warm,to softly bend,
intangible moments,forever entwined,
it blended well with the wind. Once I turned from the path, mysteriously drawn
Deep under boughs, where the fairies are found,
And bravely hiked through the night till the dawn
To the place where the wondrous magic is bound.
-
Deep under boughs where the fairies are found,
I weaved and I trod, flanked by sparrow and fawn
To the place where the wondrous magic is bound;
Lost in that glory, my worries were gone.
-
I weaved and I trod, flanked by sparrow and fawn;
I breathed in the secrets, glimpsed truth on new ground.
Lost in that glory, my worries were gone.
Amidst magic and wisdom, with peace I was crowned.
-
I breathed in the secrets, glimpsed truth on new ground,
And bravely hiked through the night till the dawn.
Amidst magic and wisdom, with peace I was crowned
Once I turned from the path, mysteriously drawn.
- [I don't like doing what I do, I just don't like seeing people die.]
I don’t like doing what I do,
I just don’t like seeing people die.
Injecting numbness inside veins and vessels,
I send fairies jogging through your arteries.
I just don’t like seeing people die.
People, take every breathe for granted;
so I send fairies jogging through your arteries.
Hoping when you wake you will see something new.
People, take every breathe for granted;
the lights through their doctor’s loops illuminate
hoping that when this form wakes it will see something new.
Somewhere inside taped eye lids,
the lights through their doctor’s loops illuminate
their grasped platelets of despondency and apathy,
somewhere inside taped eye lids,
clinging, suctioned, to the blinds.
Why can’t we all just be biromantic
Perhaps, romantics of any sort
We are being cancers and dicks
To our most beloved EarthPerhaps, romantics of any sort
We want our lovers to die for us
To our most beloved Earth
We want her turn to dustWe want our lovers to die for us
And we spread our virus that kills
We want her to turn to dust
While we swallow healing pillsAnd we spread our virus that kills
We are being cancers and dicks
While we swallow healing pills
Why can’t we all just be biromanticMusette’s Musings- Vacancy
Wind whips through this vacant space
I’m alone here, as I’ve always been
I would vanish without a trace
I’ve lost track of what’s within
I’m alone here, as I’ve always been
No one is coming to find me
I’ve lost track of what’s within
I can’t even keep my company
No one is coming to find me
Why should they come?
I can’t even keep my company
I truly am completely numb.
Why should they come?
There’s really not too much to find.
I truly am completely numb.
I don’t mind that I was left behind.
There’s really not too much to find.
It’s not as though I am bereft,
I don’t mind that I was left behind.
I’ll waste away ‘til nothing is left.
It’s not as though I am bereft
I would vanish without a trace
I’ll waste away ‘til nothing is left.
Wind whips through this vacant space.
- The Devil In Yellow
He is a rotten liar
but he speaks the truth.
Warm fingers burn
cold skin
but he speaks the truth
sewing unbreakable stitches.
Warm fingers burning
across the puce tie
sewing unbreakable stitches
pacing through the high rise flat.
Across the puce tie,
his shattering eyes
pace. Through the high rise flat,
the devil in yellow holds me
and his shattered eyes
seal the boundary.
The devil in yellow holds me.
Warm fingers burn
sealing the boundary
He is a rotten liar.
- It Rained
It rained that day I went for a walk
The air was cool and crisp blowing against my skin
I heard the busyness of rush hour
It felt so loud, yet still so peaceful
The air was cool and crisp blowing against my skin
I touched the beautiful architecture as I walked past the buildings
It was loud, yet still so peaceful
I saw the long white painted lines of the large crosswalk
I touched the beautiful architecture as I walked past the buildings
I heard the loud screech of the brakes from an unfocused driver
I saw the long white painted lines of the large crosswalk
I felt my heart nearly jump out of my chest
I heard the loud screech of the brakes from an unfocused driver
Everything was busy but in that moment, so still
I felt my heart nearly jump out of my chest
That’s when it hit me, nothing would ever be the same
Everything was busy but in that moment, so still
I heard the busyness of rush hour
That’s when it hit me, nothing would ever be the same
It rained that day when I went for a walk.
{v.m}
- Pantoum of the Last Funeral
Christianity chased me from Church.
A crucifix with no resurrection.
He’s dead and pastor says he’s sin.
We’re all liars, but not helpless like him.A crucifix with no resurrection.
Killed and forgotten, never forgiven.
We’re all liars, but not helpless like him.
A mother cries without holy comfort.Killed and forgotten, never forgiven.
Pastor wonders if he should look down
and a mother cries without holy comfort.
That cross of flaming reflections and exorcisms.A suffocated son left me without belief.
He’s dead and pastor says he’s sin,
like there’s no heaven for the betrayed.
Christianity chased me from Church. - #Gospel of Thomas Saying 102
Jesus said: Cursed are religious authorities,
for they are like a dog resting in a manger.
The dog neither eats
nor allows the oxen to eat.
Pantoum on the Dog in the Manger, an Aesop Tale
A dog once for its nap jumped into a manger,
Nestling itself into the soft hay.
When he got home from work, tired and hungry,
The ox found the dog there,
Nestling itself into the soft hay.
“If you come close, I will bite,” barked the dog.
The ox found the dog there.
The ox said, “But you don’t even eat hay!”
“If you come close, I will bite,” barked the dog.
When he got home from work, tired and hungry,
The ox said, “But you don’t even eat hay!”
A dog once for its nap jumped into a manger.
- Pantoum (4)External image
Locusts fill up vein space
until blood is open air.
Each is braced against itself,
little blundering nightmares.
Until blood is open air
it’s hard to breathe with surety.
Little blundering nightmares
are each charred-colour, grapefruit-large.
It’s hard to breathe with surety
when black dots expand and
are each charred-colour, grapefruit-large,
knotted and alive, unswallowable.
When black dots expand and
each is braced against itself,
they’re live knots. Unswallowable
locusts fill up vein space. - 38
ON WALKING ALONE AT NIGHT.
Keep eyes forward until you see him approach
then discover that rusted mud on concrete
is bluer than you remember. Finger
the trigger of mace.The mud on the concrete is a discovery.
Learn your height difference through the corners of your
eyes and keep your finger on that mace trigger.
Quiet your heartscreams.Learn your height difference through the corners of your
breath. Count to yourself like you do at bedtime
when you try and quiet your bloody heartscreams.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.Count your breath. Your self is your bedtime. Dial
those numbers into the pad of your smart phone,
one too many nights where three blocks seem like five
so you all but runthose numbers into the pad of your smart phone
for safety. Your destination seems so far away
you all but run―except, don’t be dramatic.
What are you scared of?Your destination is safety. Ask Nick to meet you.
Keep eyes forward until you see him approach,
a shelter under a night sky that’s more blue
than you remember. - The Method
by J.D. McClatchy
When you’re away I sleep a lot,
Seem to pee more often, eat
Small meals (no salad), listen
To German symphonies and … listen.
Sympathy, more often than not,
Is self-pity refined to Fire
And German Symphonies. Nun lesen.
Read a book. Write “The Method.”
Or is it self-pity, refined, two fires
Seen as one? Instructions collapse:
Write the book. (Read: a method.)
The hearth’s easy, embered expense,
Seen as one instruction, collapses
In the blue intensity of a match.
The heart’s lazy: remembrance spent
Forgetting. Love, break a stick.
In the blue intensity of as much
It is bound to catch—the far away—
Forgetting love. Break a stick.
The flames are a reward, of sorts.
They’re bound to reach that far away.
The book says so. And who can’t say
The flames are his reward? Of course
They are dying. Still, they scorch
The book. Say so, and—two can play—
Fires kindle (smack!) their own display.
They are dying, still. How they scorched
When I put this light to time.
Kindled fires smack of their own display.
Of smaller denials, no saying. Listen:
Where I put this light, it’s time,
When you’re away, asleep, or lost.
It was kindness saved the world
A Good Omens pantoum
It was kindness saved the world.
An angel gave his sword away,
And love, its holy wings unfurled,
Took flight. She always finds a way.
An angel gave his sword away;
God’s soldier, though his will to fight
Took flight. She always finds a way
To make her story come out right.
God’s soldier, though his will to fight
The wily snake was compromised,
To make Her story come out right
Befriended him and fraternised.
The wily snake was compromised.
The secret kindness in his heart
Befriended him, and fraternised
With one from whom he could not part.
The secret kindness in his heart
Cringed as he beheld the Son,
With one from whom he could not part
Belief in Heaven’s battle won;
Cringed as he beheld the Son,
The Anti-Christ, after whose birth,
Belief in Heaven’s battle won
Stood for the end of life on earth.
The Anti-Christ, after whose birth
They worked together closer still,
Stood for the end of life on earth:
For only humans get free will.
They worked together closer still
To neutralise Heaven and Hell,
For only humans get free will –
And how they hoped he turned out well.
To neutralise Heaven and Hell
They used each prophecy and ploy,
And how they hoped he turned out well.
Then everything changed with this boy.
They used each prophecy and ploy,
They faced down death to reach the end.
Then everything changed with this boy –
Somehow, when all seemed lost, a friend.
They faced down Death to reach the end,
They fought the riders at his side;
Somehow, when all seemed lost, a friend
Could lend some courage, be a guide.
They fought the riders at his side,
An angel and a demon. Both
Could lend some courage, be a guide.
When all seemed lost they made their oath.
An angel and a demon both,
They offered him their words of grace.
When all seemed lost they made their oath,
Heaven and Hell put in their place.
They offered him their words of grace,
So let him be a human child.
Heaven and Hell put in their place,
Remade by this boy, reconciled.
So let him be a human child,
To love who loved him from his birth,
Remade, by a boy reconciled
Into the father of the earth.
To love who loved him from his birth –
Whose kindness made him, from the start,
Into the father of the earth –
Made him the guardian of his heart.
Whose kindness made him from the start
One secret bonded half of two,
Made him the guardian of his heart?
The angel and the demon knew.
One secret bonded half of two
Stood in the flood and in the flame:
The angel and the demon knew
The love that dares not speak its name.
Stood in the flood and in the flame,
Ineffably, they knew their choice;
The love that dares not speak its name
Now rose unconquered, given voice.
Ineffably, they knew their choice;
And love, its holy wings unfurled,
Now rose unconquered, given voice.
It was kindness saved the world.
- Robot Love Song
Your frosted breath births steel
like cheap Midas. Feed me screws
and kiss me with hammers
until we melt into rusted shadows.
Cheap Midas, feed me screws
coated in velvet barbed wire
until we melt into rusted shadows.
We weren’t always machines
coated in velvet barbed wire.
Kiss me with hammers.
We weren’t always machines—
your frosted breath birthed steel.
- lover dearest,
This electricity is torturous,
these sparks that ignite within our eyes are lethal.
Even that smile you give me, that rare, perfect smile
almost breaks my heart because, I swear to God,these sparks that ignite within our eyes are lethal.
Fingertip to fingertip, tip of pen to piece of paper, every touch
almost breaks my heart because, I swear to God,
I think I’ve fallen in love with you.Fingertip to fingertip, tip of pen to piece of paper, every touch
reminds me of us, the clichéd coupling of the writer and the poet.
I think I’ve fallen in love with you.
You–with that contagious smile and electrified skin. - the glade
I search for the place
where sunlight splits the trees
and the birds call, gentle and loud
lulling the words from my mind
Where the sunlight splits the tress
the spider spin webs of gold
lulling the words from my mind
“it is here you are safe, my love”The spider spin webs of gold
gathering dew in bright lines
“it is here you are safe, my love”
she whispers to her preyGathering dew in bright lines
the siren sets her sweetest face
she whispers to her prey
the endless song of oldThe siren sets her sweetest face
the innocence in her eyes is sharp and cruel
the endless song of old
sung of the shape of her breasts
The innocence in her eyes is sharp and cruel
but her cruelness is kind
sung of the shape of her breasts
my love is endlessBut her cruelness is kind
she leads me this secret place
my love is endless
the wild flowers crushed to perfume ‘neath our bodiesShe leads me to this secret place
her laughter pressed at my lips
the wild flowers crushed to perfume ‘neath our bodies
here we are safeHer laughter pressed at my lips
as her fingers discover what is hers to claim
here we are safe
-I search for the place. - Just another dead star
Stars die in fiery glory
He says I destroy him
The core shrinks and relights while the outer layers expand
I don’t see how
He says I destroy him
The core relights over and over until iron is made
I don’t see how
The iron core the collapses while the outer layers expand
The core relights over and over until iron is made
I have a solid grip on his heart
The iron core then collapses and the outer layers explode
He’s blinding me with his passion
I have a solid grip on his heartIf the core survives it becomes one of two things,
He’s blinding me with his passion
A star that emits radio heart beats or a black hole
If the core survives it becomes one of two things,We are two hearts that beat as one, or so he says
A star that emits radio heartbeats or a black hole
He used me to fill a gap in his heart while my sadness became a void
We are two hearts that beat as one, or so he saysThe faster pulsars spin, the faster the heart beats get
He used me to fill a gap in his heart while my sadness became a void
The threshold of gravity and light, also the center of our milky way
The faster pulsars spin, the faster the heartbeats getI was his whole universe
The threshold of gravity and light, also the center of our milky way
And to me he was a dying star
Exercices de style - Pantoum
J’ai erré dans les rues après minuit
Les lumières étaient jaunes sur mes paupières.
Au fond d’allées lointaines que nul ne suit,
Mon cœur saoul de passion désespère.
Les lumières étaient jaunes sur mes paupières
Tremblaient-elles réellement ainsi ?
Mon cœur saoul de passion désespère
Il me faut un asile où l’amour fuit.
Tremblaient-elles réellement ainsi ?
Le vague des heures bleues vacille et erre.
Il me faut un asile où l’amour fuit
Âme perdue entre ciel, entre terre.
Le vague des heures bleues vacille et erre
Le halo du pavé ne fait un bruit.
Âme perdue entre ciel, entre terre
J’ai erré dans les rues après minuit.
I tried to do something that respects the codes of a pantoum, and had quite some trouble doing so… I barely know what this poem is about, it was mainly for practice purposes!
- Restlessness
Sleep is the thing that evades us
in the night, when we’re out to seek it.
It is the one thing that can ground us
To a simpler sense of peace.In the night, when we’re out to seek it,
the darkness opens imaginations and bars us
from any semblance of peace.
We’re swallowed by the chaos.But, darkness opens imaginations and bars us
from the mundane nature of reality.
We’re swallowed by the chaos,
and it tastes the same as freedomFrom the mundane nature of reality.
And I think that’s what we’re after, really.
A taste that can compare to a freedom
that we have yet to experience.That’s what we’re chasing after
when we’re evading sleep.
Something we don’t experience
while we are grounded. - She Put on Her Lipstick in the Dark
I really did meet a blind girl in Paris once.
It was in the garden of a museum,
Where I saw her touching the statues.
She had brown hair and an aquamarine scarf.It was in the garden of the museum.
I told her I was a thief disguised as a guard.
She had brown hair and an aquamarine scarf.
She told me she was a student from Grenoble.I told her I was not a thief disguised as a guard.
We had coffee at the little commissary.
She said she had time till her train to Grenoble.
We talked about our supreme belief in art.We had coffee at the little commissary,
Then sat on a bench near the foundry.
We talked about our supreme belief in art.
She leaned her head upon my chest.We kissed on a bench near the foundry.
I closed my eyes when no one was watching.
She leaned her head upon my chest.
The museum was closing. It was time to part.I really did meet a blind girl in Paris once.
I never saw her again and she never saw me.
In a garden she touched the statues.
She put on her lipstick in the dark.I close my eyes when no one is watching.
She had brown hair and an aquamarine scarf.
The museum was closing. It was time to part.
I never saw her again and she never saw me.Stuart Dischell
- Caffeine And Curiosity
It began with a faint foreign accent
caught
from across the coffee shop.The man held a worn wallet.
The woman swore
repeatedly,
in French.Caffeine and curiosity got the best of him.
The man held a worn wallet.
“Can I help you with that mess,
Miss?“Caffeine and curiosity
got the best of him.
He wanted to be a gentleman.“Can I help you with that mess, Miss?”
The wood floors
glimmered
with her spilled coffee,
her spilled confidence.
A slippery mess of what was once certainty—
embarrassmentHe wanted to be a gentleman.
She wanted to be
invisible.The wood floors glimmered
with her spilled coffee, her spilled confidence.
French expletives flooded
the area,
her form of disguise.She wanted to be invisible.
He saw none of her
humiliation,
only felt his infatuation.French expletives flooded the area,
her form of disguise.
A crooked smile snuck upon his face,
the profanity was not profane,
just perfect.Paper napkins
getting soggy, so easily
disintegrated,
piling up.He saw none of her humiliation, only felt his infatuation
It was a resolution of sorts, though his improvisation was
lacking
and his time was escaping.Paper napkins getting soggy,
so easily
disintegrated, piling up.
She caught her balance; he caught her eyeIt was a resolution
of sorts, though his improvisation was lacking
and his time was escaping.
It was a glance filled with significance.She caught her balance;
he caught her eye.
Nervous dialogue
and a fresh cup of coffee, his worn out wallet persisted
for romance’s sake.
always for romance’s sake.That glance, filled
with significance.It began with a faint foreign accent
caught
from across the coffee shop. Pantoum of the Infirm
03/03/14
“Tell me your birthday, please?” the nurses always say.
Seven Thirty Ninety-Seven.
At the hospital, you’re a barcode and a birthday.
101467-073097 is sick.
Seven Thirty Fifteen.
Long nightmares of cancerous green.
101467-073097 is sick.
“Happy birthday, Jonathan” someone says to me.
Long nightmares of tombstones, blanketed with moss.
This might be the final day.
“Happy birthday, Jonathan” a doctor says to me.
“Thanks”, I whisper. I’ve always gone by ‘Jack’.
This might be the final day.
The time for me to glide away.
“I’ve always gone by ‘Jack’” I say.
“Tell me your birthday, please?”, the new nurse replies.- Jack O'Neil
- A Convict's Scars
I like to count the scars on your back
Deep rivers that tell a story
You are the bravest soul I know
These jagged marks are proof of thatDeep rivers tell a story
How you suffered and survived
These jagged marks are proof of that
And no one will harm you againYou suffered and survived
And made your way back home to me
No one will harm you again
Your secret is safe with meYou made your way back home to me
They should have never taken you away
You’re secret is safe with me
You were innocent, my loveThey should have never taken you away
You are the bravest soul I know
You were innocent, my love
I cry and count the scars on your back - butterflies - a pantoum
I am the girl who draws butterflies in pen
You don’t draw butterflies anymore
I used to use razor blades
You don’t understand what for
I don’t draw butterflies anymore
You tell me I should try to get better
I don’t understand what for
You tell me I’m wasting my life like this
You tell me I should try to get better
I ask myself why I bother with anything
I tell you you’re wasting your life like this
You should have picked someone nicer
I ask myself why I bother with anything
I used to use razor blades
You should have picked someone nicer
I am not the girl who draws butterflies in pen
- To the Dad that Never Noticed the Third
To a dad that never noticed the third
I was never a loser or leader
I was just a part of the herd
They say I am a lovely girl, but I’ll never meet her
I was never a loser or leader
I didn’t exist or matter in the least
They say I am a lovely girl, but I’ll never meet her
Hidden away like a beast
I didn’t exist or matter in the least
Only a dusty trophy sitting lonely on a shelf
Hidden away like a beast
Because of your lack of interest in me, I’ll never fully love myself
Only a dusty trophy sitting lonely on a shelf
I was just a part of a herd
Because of your lack of interest in me, I’ll never fully love myself
All to because of the dad that never noticed me, the third.
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