We're getting ready for National Poetry Month.  Would you like to join us?

March 14

Happy  Pi Day, 3.14!  Here is a picture I took of Jimmy's beer at the Pi (note pi on the back of the glass) in celebration of...well we don't really need a reason to celebrate we were just out having beers.  Anyway, I am posting today because...drumroll and all sorts of fanfare here...April is National Poetry Month.  I thought, if we all agreed, we could aim to compose a poem each day of the month of April.  Of course, that begs the question, "What is a poem?"  It can be anything you determine is a poem, a picture, free verse,  haiku, limerick, whatever.  What do you think?  Are you up to it?

THE BOY I SEE AIN'T THE MAN STARING BACK AT ME

THE BOY I SEE AIN'T THE MAN STARING BACK AT ME

The things I remember and miss

never seemed as serious as this

Which way to go

which road to take

choices are slow

they take time to make

The impulse is there

but there are reasons to wait

rashness beware

this contemplative state

And when I look to my reflection

the boy I expect to find

is replaced with consternation

by this weathered face of mine

Yet once upon a time

it seems so beyond belief

that when I was in my prime

I was a prince of Alief

My joints filled with rust

anchored to reality

no longer do I thrust

face first into destiny

no longer do I lust

for elusive anarchy

But I've lived a thousand times

and I'll live a thousand more

this life's just a slow rhyme

waiting at revolution's door

By: Pancho Madness

The Walk Out

The day you walked out she learned to cry
Just wanting to die, her voice ran dry
Reality never seemed so real
Get up off the ground
Honey, your knees are bleeding but they're not your wounds

He sits down on the edge of the bed and opens the book.

His hands are familiar and he has his mother's smile.

In our minds he is so strong and he does not fear the world but I only feel his humanity as he reads.

Like the voice of a god, his is the first voice I will hear when I wake and the last I will hear as I fall asleep.

His sons for many generations will have his voice and children will hear it even as the world fades away.

(Un)comfortably numb?

The flickering images from the screen project shadows on my face.
Their messages filter through my brain – settling uncomfortably on my heart.
7.0 magnitude earthquake hits Haiti – thousands feared dead;
Two dead following drive-by shooting;
Struggling homeowners not getting help fast enough;
Court documents reveal Sheri Coleman lived in fear of her husband;
Trooper’s partner laments lack of legal protection for gay couples;
Humane Society rescues 13 neglected horses.
“How sad”, I exclaim. “Why is the world this way?”
Winter weather is on its way again. It looks like we are in for snow.
“Jimmy, it’s going to be cold. You better bring a coat.”
Images flicker. The stories of life’s tragedies loosen their grip on my heart.
“Hey, what’s for dinner?”
Flicker, flicker. Fade to black.

Technology Uncensored (sorry)

Fuck technology, WAVE OF THE FUTURE, primadonna buttons stuck in their oh so sleek motions, power surges and failures the product of random asshole's afterthought, it works, it fails, we fix, it works, it fails, we fix, blah blah blah, life complicated by years of "progress", plans to send douchebags to Mars, hope their shuttle's more stable than my cellphone, this computer, our buildings' net connection, work's copy machine, and all the other task easers that crash time after time sucking the fun, honest, physical, and mental tasks that are, well anything nowadays, but we're moving forward, faster, stronger, more efficiently than before, ya my ass we are, it would be quicker for me to run screaming down Delmar engulfed in flames to the fire station and be doused in water there than try 911 on my umpteenth busted bullshit phone, ya if the "convenience" of 2010 is the WAVE OF THE FUTURE, fuck the future

---again, my apologies

Death of Innocence

My dear friend, Innnocence, has seen her day
She once lived and has ever so silently slipped away
Through the grasp of man she falls
Death unexplained
She crawled on all fours with not a thought
She grew to walk erect
Following her new found skills problem arises
What once was pure is now polluted
Cruel words, discouraging thoughts caused her bruises
Her ressurection may be seen
Not so few and far between
Each generation will see her face
Until the next time her death takes place

Life’s razor sharp banister slices your tender skin as you slide down into reality’s deceiving pile of rock filled pillow cases
Misinterpretation, mistakes, deception, false presentation
There’s no turning back
Blood stains your freshly cleaned white linens
Painfully reaching the point of realization
No one’s there to catch you as you rapidly approach the end
Look who’s laughing now

Open the window to let sunlight in only to be disappointed by the artificial light that filters through.
One fluid motion to swift the blinds away, one fluid motion until sadness sets in.
Kid its nighttime no sun, just streetlights.
Wake up in the morning and let real light shine through your million dollar window.
Blinded by the lighted bliss of your almost fake life.

A Thought for Today

This isn't really a poem, but I think the feelings it conjures are similar.

When we have exposed the specious reasoning of the hunters' apologists and stripped their sport of its counterfeit legitimacy, the naked brutality of hunting defines itself: killing for the fun of it. -Steve Ruggeri, former hunter and activist (1949-1998).  Taken from A.Word.A.Day by Anu Garg.

Impatience

The hurt's gonna come

dyed black and crimson

flooding the eyes

choking out all honesty

It'll be swift and silent

the pacifist's scourge

lungs filled to the brim

malevolence weeps with joy

Dawn becomes dim

as winter claws the throat

ash and plague grow wild

a final jab and mockery

O yes, the hurt's gonna come

but not as soon as we deserve

Wedding Haiku (kind of)

In the violet
hour - winter lifts its veil
revealing…a blush

Fall tosses citron
like rice at a wedding
anointing its guests

Spring begins slowly
jade blades - - then tulips blush red
staining the bride’s mouth

Summer arrives in
saffron robes - ready to delight
the most chaste among us

I created this photo for a now graduated student of mine.  I used a photo of her ring superimposed over the place in Vermont where they were married.  I added one of my favorite African proverbs "A single bracelet does not jingle." to the image (not shown here).

the twilight has fallen and i am not ready

my Mother's god ate her soul

she thought she would not be forgotten

my husband sought a hateful meaning

he thought the sun would not explode

my son's fear is acute

he thought i would not leave him

their lies will dissolve with them

My morning symphony begins

"Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness.”
By: Allen Ginsberg

Downward

I make coffee.

I make coffee so that people can drink it

and...be warmed by it.

They drink it

and think it

will make them forget

the pain

that perks

just below the surface

they drink to forget

but they are falsely warmed.

NB: I woke up one  morning with this poem fully written in my head.

First Post

I came across this poem in the Riverfront Times.  It was listed under the heading "Best Local Poet to Die in the Past Year" (by local it means Missouri).  I am not familiar with the poet, Donald Finkel (1929-2008), but the poem made me think, which makes it a good candidate, in my opinion, for our first post.

SHHH
Listen, shhh
alone among the trees
I've come for a heart-to-heart
with the woods
I fall on my knees
for a tete-a-tete with a geode


behind his limestone brow I sense
the clean hard corners of his thought
facet to facet, glinting dimly
postulates of amethyst and quartz


it's small talk time
I'll parley with the loam
make peace with the Indian Pipe
I'll learn to speak weedish
~Donald Finkel