To navigate and pass through...

Poem #3 for the Read Write Poem Poetry Mini-Challenge. Inspired by the poems of Elizabeth Alexander.

Traverse

Snow floods the city, covering
Everything we created
Breathing slows down
Comes out in flimsy clouds

Now out of breath
We are contagious
Victims of time wasted
My hands are like islands

I use them to tempt men
And would-be business associates
I’m almost certain I garnered this talent
From my grandmother

Who never went anywhere without
Putting on her face
If only mine were as sweet and subtle
Mine is ridden with disease

And must be covered up at all times
So as not to scare the children
Everyone has an opinion, I have a theory
There is no remedy

The toxins on the inside are working
Their way out through my pores
I’m on a boat in the water
Tattered and writhing with scars

I cannot tell you what I lost
Not because I don’t remember
But because you wouldn’t understand
And there’s no use in dwelling on the past

If I can’t get it back, then I must let it go
Let the crows carry it off to Hell
And pray the angels carry me home
When I have sufficed on suffering

Vanished Skyscrapers to continue the challenge.

My day two contribution to the February Poetry Mini-Challenge for Read Write Poem, since the real day two was...well...days ago. I'm still kicking myself for missing the prompt, but it was too tempting to pass up.

Lines from this poem have been taken from Elizabeth Alexander's Ars Poetica #100: I Believe, Autum Passage, Peccant, End, At the Beach, Island Number Four, Neonatology, and Fugue. I like the way this poem turned out.

Vanished Skyscrapers

I.
It only happens once.
In the days before you smile at me
I’m on a train, thinking about my friends.
Recalling every misbegotten everything, lamenting, repenting.
Though I do not know what I took, I know I took something
In the details, the only way
To get from here to there.

II.
The city burns. We have to stay at home
where all I will see is the circus
as it dims, as it shrinks,
but nonetheless burns
as it turns to something else.
Emptying the proverbial pocketbook,
then everything dries and disappears

III.
You tell me knees are important, you kiss
the air that dries the mouth.
What looks to be perfect is not perfect.
I must remind you that the earth is round.
To be perfect is handmade, disturbed.
Even as it falls apart, the body
Is where we are ourselves

IV.
In my head I search for understanding,
screen for the virus, which I imagine
is not all love, love, love.
Its greens and purples
in the dirt in the corner
of the body that operates
on suffering, which is real

Better late than never right? Falling in love with Elizabeth and circling the universe with Aphrodite.

I'm a little late on this Read Write Poem Mini-Poetry Challenge. I don't know how I missed it! This poem is made up of lines taken from The Venus Hottentot by Elizabeth Alexander, a.k.a. my muse for the duration of this challenge. For five days I will emerse myself in her poetry and try to come up with writings that are somewhat worthy by comparison. I don't think somewhat is too much to ask for. LOL!

Observations and Aphrodite

Small things in this world are mine
A drop of water swirls

Blown beneath my glass
There are singing mice here

So the whole world could see
Everything is beautiful

In my silence I possess
National character

Woven through my hair and diamonds
Between my legs, poking, prodding

I have made other parts private
In this newspaper lithograph

There is unexpected sun today
And I am moving closer

The End of Starting Over.

Poem #6 for the January RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge. This is the final poem in the Starting Over series. Another untitled poem, but I'm happy to have completed the challenge. Thanks to all who have come to read these poems over the past couple of days and who have offered their support. These poems have not been as structured and clear as I would like them to be, but they are a window to the issues I am dealing with right now.

My tears stain the pillow
The blanket, the bed

In the morning we can pretend
It never happened

A second chance
Another first attempt

With dry eyes I have the power
To see things different

Another Untitled Poem.

Poem #5 for the RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge. I'm too sad for a more cheerful introduction.

Winter has been unusually cruel this year
And we’re only two weeks into it

Already I feel like throwing in the towel
Maybe I should have made a resolution
Perhaps the New Year thinks I’m taking her for granted

Perhaps I am
Seeing as she only brings me
More of the same

And I’m a litter bitter because of it

Same lovers
Same arguments
Same lessons learned

I haven’t really learned anything from the looks of it

Still tomorrow is another day
And with it come the promise
Of a new beginning

The only question is
Will I be bold enough to reach for it?

An Untitled Poem. An Unsure Future.

Poem #4 for the RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge. This was a tough one. It's pretty generic at the moment, but I'm in too much pain to continue and too weak to follow through. Tomorrow promises more of the same. In my dreams I'll have the strength to do what I need to do. Untitled.

The promises
Have been broken
Shattered as you
Walk out the door

Picking them up
Is an unbearable task
At the moment

In the morning
When the world
Starts brand new
I will too

Starting Over, Just Barely

Poem #3 for the RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge.

Barely

My lips part, unevenly
Unsure

I can barely feel the words rising
In my throat,
Touching my tongue,
And slipping through the spaces
Between my teeth

It’s not like I ever loved you
So why is this so hard?

We only existed in half-hearted gazes
And back-handed compliments

Holding hands because we needed
To feel the warmth of another human being

The thrill, once rooted firmly
Like a tree
Is now growing weak,
Fading swiftly

The words escape safely
Certain in their departure
Ready for a new beginning
But just barely

Insignificant

Poem #2 for the RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge.

Insignificant

I spent years carving the line
Trying to get it perfect
Only to spend years
Trying to erase it

Coconut butter
Miracle creams
Lotions

I tried to wish it away
I tried to pray it away

Nothing seemed to work
No one seemed to be listening

A line so small
Most people wouldn’t notice
Unless held under a microscope

I see it clearly every single day
My tiny little reminder
That starting over
Doesn’t always mean
Wiping the slate clean

January is Foretelling

Whoo! I made it.
I went out to an early birthday celebration with co-workers and still made it home in time to get in my final poem for the December Mini-Poetry Challenge. Writing is definitely one way to make it through the holidays.

January is Foretelling

The first person you kiss
Is the person you’ll spend
The rest of the year with

And it could end something tragic
But there’s magic in that moment

The fortune cookie of the calendar
The bearer of new beginnings

All things in place
And determined to do things differently
The next time around

It’s going to be a good year

December is Forgetting

Poem Number 2 for the Read Write Poem for the December Mini-Poetry Challenge. This one came easier than yesterday's poem. Perhaps because December is my favorite month.

December is Forgetting

I’ll get lost in the hustle
And frenzy
Holiday storefronts
Will offer some form of relief

From lovesickness

There will be moments
When I won’t even think of you
Moments when I struggle
For the memories

Moments when I feel no pain

No one ever says
How easy it can be to forget
But if you ask me
Time heals nothing

It’s December that washes the slate clean

November is Forgiving

I've missed the last few Poetry Mini-Challenges from Read Write Poem, but I was determined to get back into the swing of things when the month of December rolled around. December is my favorite month. I love spending time with my family and shopping, two things December is notorious for. Plus by birthday is in December. How can I go wrong? Unfortunately December is a hectic month and I never find much time to write. Lucky for me RWP went easy on me as this mini-challenge only requires three poems. Here is the first:

November is Forgiving

Boys always go for the same things
My bottom lip
And something I can’t mention
In polite company

He was no different
When I thought I had lost him forever
November brought him back to me
Giving me something to be thankful for

Listen Up!

Poem #5 and the last in the Eavesdropping series. I really enjoyed this Read Write Poem Poetry Mini-Challenge prompt, but I wish I would have had more time to devote to it. Perhaps at some point I will come back to these five poems and try to revise them into things I can be more proud of. In the end I completed the challenge so I'm still proud :)

Eavesdropping 5

You said many things
Over the course of our relationship

Three amazing weeks
That I will never forget

But in the end all I really heard was this:
It’s not you, it’s me

My 100th post and listen closely...

This is my 100th posting on my blog! Oh I am so excited!

This is also my fourth poem for the Read Write Poem Poetry Mini-Challenge.

Drip
Drip
Drip

The coffee make
The leaky ceiling
The tears falling from this face
Onto college-ruled paper

Drip
Drip
Drip

And disappearing into nothingness

Do you hear what I hear?

Day/Poem 3 of the Read Write Poem Poetry Mini-Challenge. I'm tired and my leg hurts for no reason; none of which is relevant to the poem, but I thought I would share. Also, tomorrow is Friday and for that I am very grateful.


Eavesdropping 3

Two girls sit behind me
Whispering
Swapping secrets like there’s no
Tomorrow

I can’t see their faces
And I’m too afraid to turn around
For fear they will stop speaking

I wait patiently
Ignoring the whiz of cars flying past
And the woman two seats over yelling
Obscenities into her cell phone

Slowly I hear the words
Begin to seep from her mouth
I know they were once my own

You can’t tell anyone but technically
She pauses for a moment
Technically
I never said no

Still listening...

Poem #2 for the Read Write Poem Poetry Mini-Challenge. I have no doubt that I will make it the whole way through, I'm just not sure if I'm going to actually create anything worth reading. Here is today's offering:

Eavesdropping 2

There’s a buzz
And a flickering of the lights above us
They’re about to go out

I was deep in the desperation
Of other people’s confessions
Comparing them to my own

Almost certain what I was hearing
Should never be repeated in a public forum
When she took the seat next to me

Then the satisfying and familiar slide of the zipper
As she pushed it further along
Sliding items into her bag

Back
Then further back
And back some more until it reached the end

I could tell from the look in her eyes that she
Wished she could throw herself into that bag
And hide forever

Listen...

Another Poetry Mini-Challenge from Read Write Poem. I really love this prompt, but I'm not so sure I'm going to do it justice. At least I can say I tried!

Eavesdropping 1

We get tossed around
But these wheels they keep on turning

A mechanical voice comes
Over the airwaves
Next Stop: Wellington

We listen for further instructions
Doors open on the left at Wellington
Transfer to purple line trains at Wellington

Doors open, doors close
Squeaking, in desperate in of oil

Kings of Leon drowns it all out for me
I hope it’s gonna make you notice
I hope it’s gonna make you notice
Someone like me…

I get lost in the lyrics
Then shaken back to reality

Next stop: Fullerton

Next stop…
That’s me

The Harvest Series comes to an end.

Poem #3 also represents the final installment of the Harvest Series...at least for now. Details on this prompt and many other amazing poetry related things can be found over at Read Write Poem.

Dinner isn’t the meal in front of us
It’s the conversation we consume
Without regret
Without fear of getting caught

This is wrong
And we’re in the thick of it

We walk down the street
There’s no shame in our faces
My hand brushes your arm
Our legs touch

We have yet to consider
the consequences


Read Write Poem Poetry Mini-Challenge Details

RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge Day Two.

The Harvest Series
Poem #2

There was a time
When the news arrived
On my doorstep in pieces

I got the leftovers
The bits no one else seemed to care for
The ink would stain my hands

I trace the frayed edges newspaper clippings
With my fingertips
And whisper there’s no place like home


Read Write Poem Poetry Mini-Challenge Details

RWP has done it again!

How in the world does Read Write Poem keep sucking me into poetry challenges? First NaPoWriMo, now Poetry Mini-Challenges. And a better question yet is why in the world do I keep letting them? I guess the simple answer would be because I love writing and I they offer great inspirtation. A more realistic answer might be that I'm crazy.

Here's a link to the challenge details because time is precious and I'm too lazy to write it all out. Besides, I'm trying to pump out three poems in three days here people...I'm sure you can understand.

I'm calling my series for this first Poetry Mini-Challenge Harvest; which is a synonym of the word Cull. I chose the word harvest because when I wrote down the synonyms for the three words suggested it was the first one to jump out at me. This first poem for the series is of course untitled because as we all know I'm terrible at coming up with titles.

Thanks as always for stopping by, reading, commenting, and being a part of my support system. Also, if you haven't already visiting the new Read Write Poem site please do so soon. It's even more amazing then before. Now for the goods:

I remember trekking in leaves
Tokens of the day’s journey
Mom called it reckless

Packing leaves into garbage bags
The faces of jack ‘o lanterns printed on them
I called it festive

Trips in cars to visit long-time friends
Before I understood what stabbed in the back meant
Mom called them lessons

Packing cars with blankets and pillows and snacks
To visit Auntie in the hospital
I called those our last goodbyes

Perusing sales racks and window-shopping
Taking shelter in separate rooms
Mom called it survival

Packing boxes and driving away
A form of escape
I called it self-preservation



Poetry Mini-Challenge Details