Sunday, October 26, 2014

OctPoWriMo #24: After a Day's Cleaning

My fingers smell of bleach
where the skin has worn thin
and the blood worn through,
a day’s work evidenced
on body.

Not so godly
this, the oddly thought
I’ll start again tomorrow
when dust and must renew,
the tomb staved off
rather than

Poet's Note:  Totally not in keeping with the prompt for Day 24.  But...oh well?

Saturday, October 25, 2014

OctPoWriMo #23: Chapters

I have always loved the ruffled
edge of paper, feather
soft from turning,
curling one chapter
into the next, a thousand
hands before mine discovered
the adventure of paragraph, sentence,
book.  The spine is cracked
where eager hands have
split the world in half,

We race
toward the
ending we pray
will never

Poet's Note:  The prompt was to do with starting a new chapter.  It coincided with some thinking I was doing and an odd conversation with my father.  Not all of that shows in the poem, I'm sure...but it spawned the poem.  Anyway, here it is.  Yay!

Thursday, October 23, 2014

OctPoWriMo #22: Breathe Deep in Audio

Poet's Note:  Well, today', yesterday's challenge was to record a poem in audio and upload it.  Is it terrible to admit it took me longer to figure out the upload than anything else?  And I'm still not sure I did it right.  We shall see.  And have I mentioned how much I hate listening to my own voice?  Anyhoo, I wrote this poem fairly early on in the challenge...and it spoke to me.  So I decided to try and record it.  And I hope it's okay.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

OctPoWriMo #21: Fingerprints

My fingerprints
are lost in the whorls
of others better suited,
one more smudge on a
community glass of
water and only
the dregs
left for sipping,
back-wash remnants
from my betters.  I drink
gladly and leave some of my
spit for those who come
after.  The water is
tepid but they
will drink.

Everyone drinks.

Poet's Note:  The prompt was about presence...about fingerprints and footprints and evidence of our passage.  I suspect the poem I came up with says more about my mood than about anything else.

OctPoWriMo #20: Blitzing Late

Running behind myself
running late again
again stumbling
again mumbling excuses
excuses like salt stream sweat
excuses profuse as profanity
profanity slipped
profanity clipped from set teeth
teeth grit
teeth bit into flesh
flesh laid bare
flesh flayed
flayed to the bone
flayed to stone
stone like Medusa’s thrown curse
stone like the cemetery
cemetery where birds gather
cemetery where words are worn
worn into marble and sworn
worn into prayers
prayers for the Frankenstein monster
prayers for the corpses
corpses dispersed
corpses coerced into silence
silence of wishing
silence of fishing for compliments
compliments from strangers
compliments from the half mist memory
memory what might have been
memory what never
never was
never could be
be right
be real
real like the letter F on a report card
real like a paper cut
cut to the quick and then made whole
cut to the end scene
scene of sunsets
scene of happily ever after
after the credits roll
after the edits
edits in black and white
edits on life
life remembered well
life remembered as we wish
wish to catch up the distant runner
wish to catch up myself

Poet's Note:  Made a stab at theme and form today.  Tried the blitz.  I like certain aspects of the blitz...but it's confining.  My fingers itched to break it.  But I tried...and this is what came.  The theme of the prompt was "late."  And since I'm running so far behind...the prompt seemed to fit me.

OctPoWriMo #19: Thoughts on Rain

Thoughts on Rain

The sky lets slip
a salted hush,
the earth
scent rising,
a musted comfort.

Cotton blanket from
cedar chest, no better
rest than last it

Poet's Note:  Still trying to catch up...while responding to the prompts.  Day 19.  RAIN!!!

OctPoWriMo #18: Those Thoughts of Hers

Those thoughts of hers,
her face like all the others
with their grief,
one dream
woke her
and crumpled.

There were teeth,
a real preacher speaking
stubborn as ever,
sort of laughing,
tired of having her around.

Poet's Note:  The 18th prompt asked for Found Poetry.  And, in particular, one page from one book.  I took page 139 of Marilynne Robinson's Lila.  It's the page I happened to be on in the novel and I love her writing.  Still, I was surprised how easy it was and how fun to pluck bits and pieces to make a poem.