Watermark

Snapshot Poem 10 October 02007

This day is too gray
for profundity. I woke
to roofers hammering,
shingles flying past
my window; both dogs

quietly asleep, pressed
against my knees.
The birches are a shower
of gold, with a few
withered brown leaves,

holding, holding on.

   

MP3 File

Snapshot Poem 03 October 2007

I remember how it will
happen. Leaves will fade
and brown, the sky will
grow wider. Snow will
thicken in the mountains.

The news will speak of war,
famine, extinctions. Coasts
will tremble beneath storms
called rare, unusual, brutal.

Widows and mothers will
grieve; fathers will fold flags
on the sideboard. Children
will not understand, but

they will rage. Skies bared
by fallen leaves will close
again with fog and falling
snow. Winter will come.

MP3 File

Poetry Thursday

    . . . this week’s (completely and totally optional) idea is to write or share a poem that incorporates a song.

I am -- again -- using an old post for this one -- I'm still tired, uninspired, and inward. But I do just happen to have a sort-of song poem, from the NaPoWriMo experiment, originally posted on April 19 of this year:

This is what happens when you commit to an impossible poem-a-day for a month, and then listen to the radio in that place between sleep and morning.

EDITED TO ADD: I am told that this is a bit dry on the page, but a kick to hear; so if you feel disappointed, try clicking the audio.

MP3 File

remember what you told me
remember what you said
    you said you'd never leave me
    till the day that you were dead
oh this sky is turning purple
this sky, it's like a bruise
    the sky is turning purple
    and I have got the blues

you swore you'd never leave me
till the day that you were dead
    remember what you told me
    remember what you said
oh you say that she is loving
you say that she is true
    you say that she is loving
    babe, that's no excuse

remember what you told me
remember what you said
    you swore you'd never leave me
    till the day that you were dead
oh the sky is turning purple
this heart, it's like a bruise
    you said you'd never leave me
    but I have got the blues

Bell

[I'm on vacation. This was originally posted Wednesday, 25 August 2004]

MP3 File

once I imagined the bell
all the rest came easily
the young man in the burgundy coat
lilies tolling their scent in the garden
pale moon over narrow streets, it all
dreamt itself into tall dark trees
shivering with sparrows and wind

the wind in the shutters
the nervous courtyard
something sacred at the altar
the pale child in her ghost dress
the book with its gossamer gilded pages
its thin black-pebbled cover
this docile child, butterfly wings

the old man bent into his cane
shuffling, shuffling, the pale moon
it all came quite easily, then
the moon walked into the mountains
the stars fell the old man fell
the lilies dropped their thick petals
the young man became a branch

scratching, scratching the window
the shutters opened their louvers the fan
making its ocean sound it all became
lightness and bright stripes on the wall
morning morning and I step into the garden
thick slow beat of pelican wings
into a cloud of pale moths

Poetry Thursday

 

Quick Muse, via dumbfoundry:

Two poets write a poem in 15 minutes. You can see the letters as they type them in, and if they decide to delete them or change something, you see that too. You can read the 'finished' poem or watch it appear over 15 minutes bit by bit.

This week's suggestion was to read poetry aloud -- which I often do, and here is a link to my audio posts, in case any of you would like to hear my poems.

So two diversions today.

Enjoy.