Obituary of a Field Mouse
Field Mouse, Apodemus Sylvaticus
Survived by Lennie, the murderous brute who killed him. And George, who laid him to his rest. But not by Robert whose apology still lingers in our ears. He was a brave mouse. Not afraid of the world, something many men couldn’t truthfully admit to. Lennie, too, is dead. Buried away with watchful tears. He never knew those you cried for him. They only watched and read. George was there, always by his side, hearing his last words. Of plans that never happened. Of a lost hope that was never given up easily. Lennie kept asking, though, to hear the future. And George kept telling. They fooled each other, each time they spoke. But that last time, George told it different. He told it like he knew it wasn’t true. Like he wasn’t fooled by the magic anymore. He knew that it was never going to be. But Lennie believed him. Each and every time, Lennie believed him. Sadly, his noble ignorance is to blame. And he now lies where the field mouse did. Though their paths never crossed. But Robert knew the truth behind the lie, before they were even alive. Robert knew, and Robert wrote, that “the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men ‘often go awry.’”. But he never knew that his apology would be to more than just this mouse.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
A response to the "Mistress" Poems
Conversation
The child does not like it
When mommy and daddy fight
This has happened before
A he said this and she said that
And no agreement in sight
“The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think do there embrace.”
Daddy says, softly, speaking of lost memories,
Things he could have done if life were long
But life is short and he tries to do the most he can
In the line of memories stamped in frames
Along his forgotten wall
The child listens, alone in her room
Trying to understand the noise she hears
But she has only heard one side,
For this is a wise child,
And knows she must wait to hear the other
“The Grave’s not just the body’s curse;
no skeleton can pen a verse!”
Mommy has a different view,
Of dark corridors filled with musty bodies
Rotting and weeping
She wants to fill her life with poetry,
Spend her time writing
And through her writing she will have
A line of memories trapped in a
Favorite pocket somewhere
The child does not know what to make of this,
She weeps for what she cannot understand
But soon the silence is broken
By more unrelenting banter from daddy and mommy
“Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.”
“Sir, I am not a bird of prey:
a Lady does not seize the day.”
“But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;”
“I trust that brief Time will unfold
our youth, before he makes us old.”
Daddy falls silent at this,
Could he be wrong to think
That everyone should seize the day,
Fill it with joy and fun
And do not rest till it is done?
Mommy thinks so,
She disagrees with daddy,
One should not rush through life,
Instead taking the time to write
And through writing enjoy the scenes that unfold
She agrees not to take life and love for granted,
There mommy and daddy agree,
But she feels strongly that she is right
And so begins another fight
“So while this numbered World we see,
let’s sweeten Time with poetry,
and Time, in turn, may sweeten Love
and give us time our love to prove.”
“Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.”
The child knows mommy has won
That she will always have the last word,
For daddy will not be heard again,
Lying in his dark and happy grave
Mommy begins again:
“Sir, I am not a bird of prey:
a Lady does not seize the day…”
Gwynn, R.S., eds. Poetry A Pocket Anthology. 7th ed. Longman. Print.
The child does not like it
When mommy and daddy fight
This has happened before
A he said this and she said that
And no agreement in sight
“The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think do there embrace.”
Daddy says, softly, speaking of lost memories,
Things he could have done if life were long
But life is short and he tries to do the most he can
In the line of memories stamped in frames
Along his forgotten wall
The child listens, alone in her room
Trying to understand the noise she hears
But she has only heard one side,
For this is a wise child,
And knows she must wait to hear the other
“The Grave’s not just the body’s curse;
no skeleton can pen a verse!”
Mommy has a different view,
Of dark corridors filled with musty bodies
Rotting and weeping
She wants to fill her life with poetry,
Spend her time writing
And through her writing she will have
A line of memories trapped in a
Favorite pocket somewhere
The child does not know what to make of this,
She weeps for what she cannot understand
But soon the silence is broken
By more unrelenting banter from daddy and mommy
“Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.”
“Sir, I am not a bird of prey:
a Lady does not seize the day.”
“But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;”
“I trust that brief Time will unfold
our youth, before he makes us old.”
Daddy falls silent at this,
Could he be wrong to think
That everyone should seize the day,
Fill it with joy and fun
And do not rest till it is done?
Mommy thinks so,
She disagrees with daddy,
One should not rush through life,
Instead taking the time to write
And through writing enjoy the scenes that unfold
She agrees not to take life and love for granted,
There mommy and daddy agree,
But she feels strongly that she is right
And so begins another fight
“So while this numbered World we see,
let’s sweeten Time with poetry,
and Time, in turn, may sweeten Love
and give us time our love to prove.”
“Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.”
The child knows mommy has won
That she will always have the last word,
For daddy will not be heard again,
Lying in his dark and happy grave
Mommy begins again:
“Sir, I am not a bird of prey:
a Lady does not seize the day…”
Gwynn, R.S., eds. Poetry A Pocket Anthology. 7th ed. Longman. Print.
Monday, November 14, 2011
A Flawed Hero Poem
Dorothy
It was all a dream, but she knows it wasn’t
The thought has been haunting her since she woke up
All those years ago
She still wakes screaming and pleading
To be back in Kansas, not in Oz anymore
But there she is safe in her own bed,
Still surrounded by loved ones,
Still under the same blanket tucked tight around her neck
She hates reliving the dream, and yet it won’t end
Continually making the same mistakes,
Walking down the same yellow brick road
For every interested spectator
Many viewers have the nerve to replay, enjoying her torture
While they sit happily at home,
Under their own warm blankets
It was all a dream, but she knows it wasn’t
The thought has been haunting her since she woke up
All those years ago
She still wakes screaming and pleading
To be back in Kansas, not in Oz anymore
But there she is safe in her own bed,
Still surrounded by loved ones,
Still under the same blanket tucked tight around her neck
She hates reliving the dream, and yet it won’t end
Continually making the same mistakes,
Walking down the same yellow brick road
For every interested spectator
Many viewers have the nerve to replay, enjoying her torture
While they sit happily at home,
Under their own warm blankets
An Artifact Poem
A Walk through the Park
Brown fuzz balls dart back and forth,
chasing each other, a fight that
cannot be settled
Long planks glaze the walkway,
they must hurt to sit on, yet people
fight for them
Gray haired ladies are popular with
the squawking feathers, whom they
through grains at
Heavy iron structures control the children
in a rather unpleasant way, it seems the
children go crazy
A machine carries a man
who appears to be doing nothing but
go in circles
The whole place is caged by tall trees
skyscrapers, people lean against them
craving their support
Brown fuzz balls dart back and forth,
chasing each other, a fight that
cannot be settled
Long planks glaze the walkway,
they must hurt to sit on, yet people
fight for them
Gray haired ladies are popular with
the squawking feathers, whom they
through grains at
Heavy iron structures control the children
in a rather unpleasant way, it seems the
children go crazy
A machine carries a man
who appears to be doing nothing but
go in circles
The whole place is caged by tall trees
skyscrapers, people lean against them
craving their support
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Just A Poem
No Title
Nothing comes to mind when something usually
does stick to writing what you know I’m told at a young
age in kindergarten shadows linger in the empty
spaces of my empty mind claiming to be old
memories that I cannot suppress no matter how horrible
the place was in my brain where there is nothing left to be
worth the time spent reading a poem with nothing in it.
Nothing comes to mind when something usually
does stick to writing what you know I’m told at a young
age in kindergarten shadows linger in the empty
spaces of my empty mind claiming to be old
memories that I cannot suppress no matter how horrible
the place was in my brain where there is nothing left to be
worth the time spent reading a poem with nothing in it.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
A Wang Ping Poem
Syntax
The way a sentence is put together is always the same.
But it can change, and the meaning gets hidden.
Is always the same the way a sentence is put together?
No, it can change and the meaning gets hidden.
Put together is always the same, the way a sentence is.
It can change but the meaning gets hidden.
When the meaning gets hidden, people do not understand.
But that can change.
The way a sentence is put together is always the same.
But it can change, and the meaning gets hidden.
Is always the same the way a sentence is put together?
No, it can change and the meaning gets hidden.
Put together is always the same, the way a sentence is.
It can change but the meaning gets hidden.
When the meaning gets hidden, people do not understand.
But that can change.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
A River Poem
An Adventure Under the River
The child embarks
On an adventure in his sailboat
Made by loving hands just for him
The boat is called mystic
And is just big enough for the small boy
The canvas sail
As soon as he leaves the shore
Gray clouds, plump and full, roll in
Ready to burst
The child is not scared
A smile slides onto his face
He patiently waits for the inevitable
A rough ripple tilts the craft
And with a splash the boy has fallen in
Drenched, he sinks lower into the dark water
But again the child is not scared
He has been here before
To this land under the currents
He sees a new world blue and strong
Large green weeds stand tall
Swaying in the wind of the water
There is a calm under the horizon
And the boy finds peace
In the lull of soft sand resting on the river bottom
The child embarks
On an adventure in his sailboat
Made by loving hands just for him
The boat is called mystic
And is just big enough for the small boy
The canvas sail
As soon as he leaves the shore
Gray clouds, plump and full, roll in
Ready to burst
The child is not scared
A smile slides onto his face
He patiently waits for the inevitable
A rough ripple tilts the craft
And with a splash the boy has fallen in
Drenched, he sinks lower into the dark water
But again the child is not scared
He has been here before
To this land under the currents
He sees a new world blue and strong
Large green weeds stand tall
Swaying in the wind of the water
There is a calm under the horizon
And the boy finds peace
In the lull of soft sand resting on the river bottom
Monday, November 7, 2011
A Billy Collins Nonsense Poem
Paradelle for Sunset
The sun sets on the misty lake
The sun sets on the misty lake
And I sit watching the shadows grow
And I sit watching the shadows grow
Misty lake watching sun grow the
I sets the the shadows on and sit
Waiting for a new day to come
Waiting for a new day to come
When the darkness arrives it’s expected
When the darkness arrives it’s expected
New darkness expected to come when waiting
It’s for a the, arrives the day
And sitting solemnly I watch the emergence of the moon
And sitting solemnly I watch the emergence of the moon
It appears from where the sun once was
It appears from where the sun once was
And where appears the I emergence solemnly watch
The sun left the moon sitting from once of it
Darkness appears on the misty lake
The moon from where its sit waiting and watching
Expected, the sun solemnly sitting of the emergence
Shadows a new day. I watch it sets
To come for grow the sun
I was the and arrives once
The sun sets on the misty lake
The sun sets on the misty lake
And I sit watching the shadows grow
And I sit watching the shadows grow
Misty lake watching sun grow the
I sets the the shadows on and sit
Waiting for a new day to come
Waiting for a new day to come
When the darkness arrives it’s expected
When the darkness arrives it’s expected
New darkness expected to come when waiting
It’s for a the, arrives the day
And sitting solemnly I watch the emergence of the moon
And sitting solemnly I watch the emergence of the moon
It appears from where the sun once was
It appears from where the sun once was
And where appears the I emergence solemnly watch
The sun left the moon sitting from once of it
Darkness appears on the misty lake
The moon from where its sit waiting and watching
Expected, the sun solemnly sitting of the emergence
Shadows a new day. I watch it sets
To come for grow the sun
I was the and arrives once
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
A 'Sacred Place' Poem
The Reverie Nomad
What is it that wakes you from your sleep?
A sleep so deep that you would swear your dreams were real
Mystical things, your dreams, which change your mind bringing up things from the past
Things that you would never want to remember, that’s when a dream turns bad
But there are good dreams too, lovely dreams that you run to with arms wide open
And hold tightly and never let go, but then the monsters can come
The monsters come right when you don’t want them to, and wake you from your journey
Regret washes over you when you realize that the monsters have won
When you realize that you can never go back to a place you can hardly remember
Awoken you sit trying to understand what just happened
Trying to remember what woke you from your sleep
What is it that wakes you from your sleep?
A sleep so deep that you would swear your dreams were real
Mystical things, your dreams, which change your mind bringing up things from the past
Things that you would never want to remember, that’s when a dream turns bad
But there are good dreams too, lovely dreams that you run to with arms wide open
And hold tightly and never let go, but then the monsters can come
The monsters come right when you don’t want them to, and wake you from your journey
Regret washes over you when you realize that the monsters have won
When you realize that you can never go back to a place you can hardly remember
Awoken you sit trying to understand what just happened
Trying to remember what woke you from your sleep
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
A Modernized Fairytale
ONE NIGHT ONLY!
Meet your Prince Charming
He’s tall, handsome and completely single
Drink cocktails and
Dance until your feet fall off
One lucky lady will go home a Princess*
And live happily ever after
*provided you arrive late, steal the Prince’s breath, dance with no one else, create a stir in the crowd, leave at midnight without saying goodbye, forget a shoe, cause the prince agony, try on the shoe you lost, have it fit
Meet your Prince Charming
He’s tall, handsome and completely single
Drink cocktails and
Dance until your feet fall off
One lucky lady will go home a Princess*
And live happily ever after
*provided you arrive late, steal the Prince’s breath, dance with no one else, create a stir in the crowd, leave at midnight without saying goodbye, forget a shoe, cause the prince agony, try on the shoe you lost, have it fit
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Advocate
I would advocate and be an advocate for reconnection. And I don't mean reconnection in the Facebook sense, as in to reconnect with friends on said social media website. No, I mean reconnect with the life around you. Make up those lost connections in person. Go out and see a friend, spend time with actual people. Its so easy in this electronically connected world to lose a sense of human contact, seeing someone face to face in REAL life.
And reconnection doesn't have to stop there. Reconnect with nature. Not just the people around you but the WORLD around you. Go out and see what you have been missing while "connecting" with an old friend. Participate, actively, outside, outside the computer screen.
Some can say that so much has been gained with new technology, new connections. But I feel that so much has been lost as well. So I call for the reconnection of people to people and to place. For the good of human kind. For the joy that will inevitably be found when you do.
A poem inspired by this...
Unplug yourself from the socket
that unnervingly follows you around all day
It frightens me to think that some people do not want to be unplugged
They enjoy the tail sticking out of their head
I see it as a horror, a terrible thing that cannot go on
but will keep going on until one person unplugs
One person unplugging would tip the dominoes
More and more and more people would unplug, following their lead
They would see the world around them
And talk with the people waiting to hear from them
But no one wants to
It is just my little fantasy
And of course the world we live in,
with people walking around with cyber tails,
is not a fantasy
And reconnection doesn't have to stop there. Reconnect with nature. Not just the people around you but the WORLD around you. Go out and see what you have been missing while "connecting" with an old friend. Participate, actively, outside, outside the computer screen.
Some can say that so much has been gained with new technology, new connections. But I feel that so much has been lost as well. So I call for the reconnection of people to people and to place. For the good of human kind. For the joy that will inevitably be found when you do.
A poem inspired by this...
Unplug yourself from the socket
that unnervingly follows you around all day
It frightens me to think that some people do not want to be unplugged
They enjoy the tail sticking out of their head
I see it as a horror, a terrible thing that cannot go on
but will keep going on until one person unplugs
One person unplugging would tip the dominoes
More and more and more people would unplug, following their lead
They would see the world around them
And talk with the people waiting to hear from them
But no one wants to
It is just my little fantasy
And of course the world we live in,
with people walking around with cyber tails,
is not a fantasy
Sunday, October 16, 2011
An Animal Metaphoric Poem
Ignorance is Bliss
1.
Under your eyes we lay eggs
Sitting on our nests made of stiff straw and dust
We stay all day, so you can eat.
And we wonder what you do all day,
while we work hard.
Have you ever laid an egg?
We know little of the world around us
but we understand more than you
We are not daft to what matters
We know the sky, the trees,
the sun and the stars
We hear the birds sing their song
and we hear you trying to sing along
You live complex lives,
and often miss the great vastness
of the world around you.
We watch you watch us
only to see you turn away in disgust.
Filled with boredom after just a few moments
And to think,
you would be dead
if it wasn’t for us
2.
Watching them is amusing,
pecking and chasing each other in circles.
They truly are chickens with their heads cut off.
Silly animals
They have such an easy life
No worries
Nothing to do but the simple job of laying eggs
One could pity them
and their ignorance.
They know little of the world,
daft to what matters
They have no connections
No life outside their fence
Our life is filled with toil and trouble.
We rush and rush and rush
and still do not have enough hours in the day
to finish our chores, our jobs
Lives depend on ours,
we are important pieces of their survival.
Because to think,
They would be dead
Without their daily feeding
1.
Under your eyes we lay eggs
Sitting on our nests made of stiff straw and dust
We stay all day, so you can eat.
And we wonder what you do all day,
while we work hard.
Have you ever laid an egg?
We know little of the world around us
but we understand more than you
We are not daft to what matters
We know the sky, the trees,
the sun and the stars
We hear the birds sing their song
and we hear you trying to sing along
You live complex lives,
and often miss the great vastness
of the world around you.
We watch you watch us
only to see you turn away in disgust.
Filled with boredom after just a few moments
And to think,
you would be dead
if it wasn’t for us
2.
Watching them is amusing,
pecking and chasing each other in circles.
They truly are chickens with their heads cut off.
Silly animals
They have such an easy life
No worries
Nothing to do but the simple job of laying eggs
One could pity them
and their ignorance.
They know little of the world,
daft to what matters
They have no connections
No life outside their fence
Our life is filled with toil and trouble.
We rush and rush and rush
and still do not have enough hours in the day
to finish our chores, our jobs
Lives depend on ours,
we are important pieces of their survival.
Because to think,
They would be dead
Without their daily feeding
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
A Random Poems
The Sheep Herder
He wanders the same path with his sheep in tow,
creating a rut in the long-grass.
He wanders the same path with his sheep in tow,
creating a rut in the long-grass.
Monday, October 10, 2011
A Perception Poem
Behind Your Eyes
1.................................................................2.
His eyes see nothing...............................Her eyes see all
but can still cry........................................and know emotion well
So he bends over.....................................So she raises her arms
hunched with agony...............................to the sky
and sobs...................................................and rejoices in life
For nothing in particular.......................For all she loves including
except the act of crying.........................that which she does not understand
Because he thinks he should.................Because that is all she knows
because others do...................................how to do
And it feels good to let it out.................And it feels good to be herself
When he lifts his head............................But when she meets his gaze
He sees her eyes.....................................and sees his eyes
Curious at the life within hers...............She reaches out to him
He holds the gaze....................................Curious at the stillness behind them
1.................................................................2.
His eyes see nothing...............................Her eyes see all
but can still cry........................................and know emotion well
So he bends over.....................................So she raises her arms
hunched with agony...............................to the sky
and sobs...................................................and rejoices in life
For nothing in particular.......................For all she loves including
except the act of crying.........................that which she does not understand
Because he thinks he should.................Because that is all she knows
because others do...................................how to do
And it feels good to let it out.................And it feels good to be herself
When he lifts his head............................But when she meets his gaze
He sees her eyes.....................................and sees his eyes
Curious at the life within hers...............She reaches out to him
He holds the gaze....................................Curious at the stillness behind them
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
A Name Poem- JM
A contradiction
I am Heather Upin
a contradiction
A fantastical adventure
waiting to happen
A safe place to run to
when the world is gone
The moment of ultimate life
where the sun gleams bright
The pit of despair
where the rain pours down
An engaged observer
taking everything in
A lonely turtle
hiding in her shell
A thousand bright stars
in the night sky
A grain of sand
washed by the sea
The big bright sun
giving life to all man kind
The dark side of the moon
staying in shadows of mystery
The warmth of a fire
burning in the hearth
The chill of a door slamming
on a snowing night
A hug on a cold day
And a smile under the sun
I am Heather Upin
a contradiction
I am Heather Upin
a contradiction
A fantastical adventure
waiting to happen
A safe place to run to
when the world is gone
The moment of ultimate life
where the sun gleams bright
The pit of despair
where the rain pours down
An engaged observer
taking everything in
A lonely turtle
hiding in her shell
A thousand bright stars
in the night sky
A grain of sand
washed by the sea
The big bright sun
giving life to all man kind
The dark side of the moon
staying in shadows of mystery
The warmth of a fire
burning in the hearth
The chill of a door slamming
on a snowing night
A hug on a cold day
And a smile under the sun
I am Heather Upin
a contradiction
Saturday, October 1, 2011
A Love Poem?
The lone man plays with agony
I see a man crying for lost memories
Sitting alone in a dark room
On a somber night
There is a storm rolling in
I can hear it
Low rumbles signal its arrival
He closes his eyes
Presses his hands to his head
And breaks away
He’s soaring to unknown heights
But traveling to known places
And he remembers
In the dark room he sits
Holding himself for comfort
I try to reach out, but stop
He cries out in agony
Only to be ignored by
Silent ghosts and the rumbling storm
The curtains dance
The only reminder
Of passing time
Silence is the only sound
Inside the room,
Inside the man’s head
Outside a ferocious storm rages
Trying in vain
To wash away the agony
I see a man crying for lost memories
Sitting alone in a dark room
On a somber night
There is a storm rolling in
I can hear it
Low rumbles signal its arrival
He closes his eyes
Presses his hands to his head
And breaks away
He’s soaring to unknown heights
But traveling to known places
And he remembers
In the dark room he sits
Holding himself for comfort
I try to reach out, but stop
He cries out in agony
Only to be ignored by
Silent ghosts and the rumbling storm
The curtains dance
The only reminder
Of passing time
Silence is the only sound
Inside the room,
Inside the man’s head
Outside a ferocious storm rages
Trying in vain
To wash away the agony
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
A Sonnet
Blue Moon
Clouds part revealing the moon’s reflection
On a calm pond in the still of the night
Two young lovers stare past night’s perfection
Finding comfort in each other’s sight
A deer wanders to the edge of the pond
Alone he creeps dipping his head to drink
Ripples distort the moon, breaking the bond
Between peace and chaos which keeps love in synch
The silent boy and girl lie unaware
Of the poised deer drinking under the moon
The deer sulks away ignoring the pair
Holding each other tight the lovers, they swoon
The lovers stay under the moon’s tight embrace
Ignoring the wonders of nature’s vast space
Clouds part revealing the moon’s reflection
On a calm pond in the still of the night
Two young lovers stare past night’s perfection
Finding comfort in each other’s sight
A deer wanders to the edge of the pond
Alone he creeps dipping his head to drink
Ripples distort the moon, breaking the bond
Between peace and chaos which keeps love in synch
The silent boy and girl lie unaware
Of the poised deer drinking under the moon
The deer sulks away ignoring the pair
Holding each other tight the lovers, they swoon
The lovers stay under the moon’s tight embrace
Ignoring the wonders of nature’s vast space
Thursday, September 15, 2011
An Ode
Ode to Kindness
To be kind is a wonderful thing
But some people forget how
It was raining
Dark shadows glide by under street lights
There was a small child
He was holding an umbrella
And waiting at an abandoned corner
With an aggravated scream and a doors slam
A woman appeared
She had no cover from the rain
Drops splashed on her bare arms
Soaking her hair
Grudgingly she sunk to the corner
Crossed arms held some warmth to her body
The boy looked up
Then he reached his small arm out to her
Offering his umbrella
She glared down at him
But upon looking into his eyes
She was filled with a sensation of warmth
She took the umbrella
And they stood there together
Huddled close
The women had seen a glowing kindness
In the little boy’s eyes
To be kind is a wonderful thing
Sometimes people forget how
But there is always someone waiting to remind
To be kind is a wonderful thing
But some people forget how
It was raining
Dark shadows glide by under street lights
There was a small child
He was holding an umbrella
And waiting at an abandoned corner
With an aggravated scream and a doors slam
A woman appeared
She had no cover from the rain
Drops splashed on her bare arms
Soaking her hair
Grudgingly she sunk to the corner
Crossed arms held some warmth to her body
The boy looked up
Then he reached his small arm out to her
Offering his umbrella
She glared down at him
But upon looking into his eyes
She was filled with a sensation of warmth
She took the umbrella
And they stood there together
Huddled close
The women had seen a glowing kindness
In the little boy’s eyes
To be kind is a wonderful thing
Sometimes people forget how
But there is always someone waiting to remind
Sunday, September 11, 2011
A Color Poem- Edited
Arizona- Kings of Leon
Orange waves splash on a beach made of sound,
Tumbling over each other like puffy peach clouds sailing in the sky
It’s all he ever needed, all he ever wanted
He wades into the ocean. At sunset the blood orange sun drowns in the water
Worlds reflect onto the tumbling waves, each holding their own illusion
Now he’s too dumb to surrender and cannot find it in himself to turn back
He’s been pulled under, washed my orange currents of sound
It’s a whole new place under the rosy tide
He swims past arching slopes peaking in clouds of frothy foam
Deep underwater pools catch their golden reflections
Too drunk to remember, too drunk to, he drifts through orange pockets of sound
When suddenly he surfaces and again wades in the spray of flying mist
He tastes something awful, hates when that happens
Fading light dims the sky, vague shapes poke out in the clouds
Turning to vibrant blasts of bright, exploding in the night
Orange waves splash on a beach made of sound,
Tumbling over each other like puffy peach clouds sailing in the sky
It’s all he ever needed, all he ever wanted
He wades into the ocean. At sunset the blood orange sun drowns in the water
Worlds reflect onto the tumbling waves, each holding their own illusion
Now he’s too dumb to surrender and cannot find it in himself to turn back
He’s been pulled under, washed my orange currents of sound
It’s a whole new place under the rosy tide
He swims past arching slopes peaking in clouds of frothy foam
Deep underwater pools catch their golden reflections
Too drunk to remember, too drunk to, he drifts through orange pockets of sound
When suddenly he surfaces and again wades in the spray of flying mist
He tastes something awful, hates when that happens
Fading light dims the sky, vague shapes poke out in the clouds
Turning to vibrant blasts of bright, exploding in the night
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A Narrative
Dancing in the Puddles
It was like a dream, at five am
My shut eyes see the black thickness of the storm roll in
like the blanket tucked tight around me, keeping me warm
Hearing the loud horn of my alarm and the rain outside
I try to come out of my sleepy haze
The rain pours down, creating longer shadows
than those already present in the early morning glow
Outside I see light dance in the streets
Greens and yellows join hands to splash in the puddles
Venturing out in the thundering downpour
I race to the car, getting hit with buckets of water on my way
The car veers down a hill and around a tight corner,
tires scarcely clinging to the slick pavement
Under a bridge more lights dance
Reds and blues swirl in reflections of the fading night
There is a car on its side, swells of water lapping at it
As if the waters had never tasted human sorrow
Waiting to wake from this dream, reality slowly comes back to me
And as we leave the tunnel I watch the orange light
dancing in the puddles
Dream's Perspective-
The night carries on as normal
Floating images caress you as you drift with me
Booms and cracks from outside
Threaten to take you away from me
You hate leaving me and so when you wake
You can’t fully let go
And I hold on tight to your haze
Promising not to give up this fight
The dark rain outside your window helps me
Creating shadows in the early morning glow
You see splashing lights on the slick street
And think you are still with me
Images you see are twisted
Caught in my web, guiding away from reality
You can’t tell if what you are seeing is real
Or a dream
I have won
Light's Perspective-
Finally it was the perfect night
The rain was thundering down, enough to fill the ocean
We wait constantly for nights like this
Nights where we can leak out from our lamps
Spilling into the streets
We dance
Gliding across the slick streets
Joining hands in a celebration of light
But the rain also brings sadness
A car on its side allows more of us to creep out of hiding
Reds and blues join with the greens and yellows
Sliding and gliding and dancing in the street
It was like a dream, at five am
My shut eyes see the black thickness of the storm roll in
like the blanket tucked tight around me, keeping me warm
Hearing the loud horn of my alarm and the rain outside
I try to come out of my sleepy haze
The rain pours down, creating longer shadows
than those already present in the early morning glow
Outside I see light dance in the streets
Greens and yellows join hands to splash in the puddles
Venturing out in the thundering downpour
I race to the car, getting hit with buckets of water on my way
The car veers down a hill and around a tight corner,
tires scarcely clinging to the slick pavement
Under a bridge more lights dance
Reds and blues swirl in reflections of the fading night
There is a car on its side, swells of water lapping at it
As if the waters had never tasted human sorrow
Waiting to wake from this dream, reality slowly comes back to me
And as we leave the tunnel I watch the orange light
dancing in the puddles
Dream's Perspective-
The night carries on as normal
Floating images caress you as you drift with me
Booms and cracks from outside
Threaten to take you away from me
You hate leaving me and so when you wake
You can’t fully let go
And I hold on tight to your haze
Promising not to give up this fight
The dark rain outside your window helps me
Creating shadows in the early morning glow
You see splashing lights on the slick street
And think you are still with me
Images you see are twisted
Caught in my web, guiding away from reality
You can’t tell if what you are seeing is real
Or a dream
I have won
Light's Perspective-
Finally it was the perfect night
The rain was thundering down, enough to fill the ocean
We wait constantly for nights like this
Nights where we can leak out from our lamps
Spilling into the streets
We dance
Gliding across the slick streets
Joining hands in a celebration of light
But the rain also brings sadness
A car on its side allows more of us to creep out of hiding
Reds and blues join with the greens and yellows
Sliding and gliding and dancing in the street
Friday, September 2, 2011
A Color Poem
Arizona- Kings of Leon
Orange waves splash on a beach made of sound,
Tumbling over each other like puffy peach clouds sailing in the sky
It’s all he ever needed, all he ever wanted
He wades into the ocean at sunset, the orange sun drowning in the water below
Reflecting worlds onto the tumbling waves
Now he’s too dumb to surrender and cannot find it in himself to turn back
He’s been pulled under, washed my orange currents of sound
It’s a whole new place under the orange tide
He swims past orange slopes peaking in the clouds of frothy foam
That reflect in deep underwater pools of orange light
Too drunk to remember, too drunk to, he drifts through orange pockets of sound
When suddenly he surfaces and again wades in the orange spray of flying mist
He tastes something awful, hates when that happens
Fading light dims the sky, vague shapes poke out in the clouds
Turning to vibrant blasts of orange, exploding in the night
Orange waves splash on a beach made of sound,
Tumbling over each other like puffy peach clouds sailing in the sky
It’s all he ever needed, all he ever wanted
He wades into the ocean at sunset, the orange sun drowning in the water below
Reflecting worlds onto the tumbling waves
Now he’s too dumb to surrender and cannot find it in himself to turn back
He’s been pulled under, washed my orange currents of sound
It’s a whole new place under the orange tide
He swims past orange slopes peaking in the clouds of frothy foam
That reflect in deep underwater pools of orange light
Too drunk to remember, too drunk to, he drifts through orange pockets of sound
When suddenly he surfaces and again wades in the orange spray of flying mist
He tastes something awful, hates when that happens
Fading light dims the sky, vague shapes poke out in the clouds
Turning to vibrant blasts of orange, exploding in the night
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
A List Poem
Untitled
I see the wind in the trees
The sun that dances on the leaves
Whenever a breath is let go
I hear the sun on my face
The blue beat of the sky and
The insects humming along
I touch the birds in the sky
Dipping their wings
In the swells of the wind
I smell the scent of weeping flowers
Petals gathering in fragrant clumps
Around their once green stems
I taste today
Sweet remembrance of yesterday
And the song of tomorrow in the air
I see the wind in the trees
The sun that dances on the leaves
Whenever a breath is let go
I hear the sun on my face
The blue beat of the sky and
The insects humming along
I touch the birds in the sky
Dipping their wings
In the swells of the wind
I smell the scent of weeping flowers
Petals gathering in fragrant clumps
Around their once green stems
I taste today
Sweet remembrance of yesterday
And the song of tomorrow in the air
Smilies, Tropes, Metaphors
Similies-
The moon, broken off like the picket fence cracked from last night’s storm
A red flower, brilliant as a composer’s final piece (or note?)
Her fingers delicate as the keys on a piano
The island stretches out from the coast like an inch worm crawling up a leaf
Your backbone, rigid like the dinosaurs bite
Soft as the cloth used to wipe the baby’s botton
That biker, careening downhill like a slinky down the stairs
Crazy bird! Its song like the screech from a pistol’s shot
His mountainous voice like an echo in a canyon
She spun off like the crazy man’s thoughts
Days pass like the wee hours of the night
Tropes-
Synesthesia, personification, oxymoron/personification, personification, metonymy, synecdoche, synecdoche, metaphor
Metaphors-
Cats got your tongue
Root of the problem
Sands of time
The moon, broken off like the picket fence cracked from last night’s storm
A red flower, brilliant as a composer’s final piece (or note?)
Her fingers delicate as the keys on a piano
The island stretches out from the coast like an inch worm crawling up a leaf
Your backbone, rigid like the dinosaurs bite
Soft as the cloth used to wipe the baby’s botton
That biker, careening downhill like a slinky down the stairs
Crazy bird! Its song like the screech from a pistol’s shot
His mountainous voice like an echo in a canyon
She spun off like the crazy man’s thoughts
Days pass like the wee hours of the night
Tropes-
Synesthesia, personification, oxymoron/personification, personification, metonymy, synecdoche, synecdoche, metaphor
Metaphors-
Cats got your tongue
Root of the problem
Sands of time
A Sound Poem
Sorting the Alphabet
Atriculate the problem
that needs to be sorted out
what Altercations must be had
for the sorting of the alphabet
Bypass the short term troubles
Call in the inspector and
Decipher the code to start
putting the alphabet back together
Encapsulate the Exotic vowels
and don’t Forget to Catch the Consonants
but Don’t be Fooled, Don’t Fall Behind
or get Back tracked
Continue the mission
Drudge through
Extract the Evidence
Fill the Gaping Hole
Intrude only when nessicary
Join the Knavery and
Leave a trail to find your way back
Meander in the Night to places
that Ought not be Penetrated
Quietly Rummage through
Storage Trunks without letting
anything escape
Uncover the Vortex
Wonder at the magnificence
and Yawn because, Zounds!,
sorting the alphabet is breathtaking
Atriculate the problem
that needs to be sorted out
what Altercations must be had
for the sorting of the alphabet
Bypass the short term troubles
Call in the inspector and
Decipher the code to start
putting the alphabet back together
Encapsulate the Exotic vowels
and don’t Forget to Catch the Consonants
but Don’t be Fooled, Don’t Fall Behind
or get Back tracked
Continue the mission
Drudge through
Extract the Evidence
Fill the Gaping Hole
Intrude only when nessicary
Join the Knavery and
Leave a trail to find your way back
Meander in the Night to places
that Ought not be Penetrated
Quietly Rummage through
Storage Trunks without letting
anything escape
Uncover the Vortex
Wonder at the magnificence
and Yawn because, Zounds!,
sorting the alphabet is breathtaking
Word Connotations
Soup- tomatoes, french meadow, cream, steam
Snow- white, angles, snow pants, padding, warm fires
Midnight- darkness, moonlight, crickets, sandwiches
Siren- red, blue, annoyance, fear
Candlelight- forbidden dancing, Victorian darkness, Shakespeare
Moon- feminine, tides, oceans, moonlit beaches, mermaids
Terror- sand, dark loneliness, misery
Mist- fog, grays and greens, swamps
Escape- clouds, space, green meadows, running through a forest
Privacy- barriers, clothing, respectfulness
Snow- white, angles, snow pants, padding, warm fires
Midnight- darkness, moonlight, crickets, sandwiches
Siren- red, blue, annoyance, fear
Candlelight- forbidden dancing, Victorian darkness, Shakespeare
Moon- feminine, tides, oceans, moonlit beaches, mermaids
Terror- sand, dark loneliness, misery
Mist- fog, grays and greens, swamps
Escape- clouds, space, green meadows, running through a forest
Privacy- barriers, clothing, respectfulness
A List of Words
1. Obfuscation
2. Paramour
3. Fastidious
4. Demurely
5. Impervious
6. Pensive
7. Disdainfully
8. Portentous
9. Pinnacle
10. Entrenched
11. Fetter
12. Extrusive
13. Exuberant
14. Marathon
15. Marcescent
16. Lovely
17. Gladly
18. Paracardium
19. Meander
20. Obsolete
21. Odious
22. Quiff
23. Hellion
24. Rumpus
25. Hearsay
26. Hither
27. Herb
28. Blob
29. Squish
30. Decipher
31. Pansy
32. Petunia
33. Rosemary
34. Trepidation
35. Tantalize
36. Tarnation
37. Cahoots
38. Necromancy
39. Chromatography
40. Carnation
41. Yonder
42. Credential
43. Velcro
44. Pewter
45. Kinky
46. Knavery
47. Lactiferous
48. Lament
49. Largish- rather large
50. Leniency
51. Ought
52. Ostensible
53. Salutation
54. Scallop
55. Scad
56. Schlep
57. Scintillation
58. Abstention
59. Abyss
60. Abrupt
61. Altercation
62. Anaplastication
63. Anchorage
64. Arbitrary
65. Ballistics
66. Baloney
67. Barter
68. Boor
69. Brigade
70. Behoove
71. Canasta
72. Caption
73. Carrot
74. Clue
75. Cobbler
76. Drudge
77. Droit
78. Encapsulate
79. Façade
80. Fabulous
81. Defenestrating
82. Finicky
83. Challot
84. Hermaphrodite
85. Luscious
86. Lecivious
87. Potentate
88. Fodder
89. Articulate
90. Scrumptious
91. Percolate
92. Phenomena
93. Seizure
94. Rapture
95. Apocalyptic
96. Bubble
97. Pillow
98. Serpentine
99. Stenohaline
100. Transudation
2. Paramour
3. Fastidious
4. Demurely
5. Impervious
6. Pensive
7. Disdainfully
8. Portentous
9. Pinnacle
10. Entrenched
11. Fetter
12. Extrusive
13. Exuberant
14. Marathon
15. Marcescent
16. Lovely
17. Gladly
18. Paracardium
19. Meander
20. Obsolete
21. Odious
22. Quiff
23. Hellion
24. Rumpus
25. Hearsay
26. Hither
27. Herb
28. Blob
29. Squish
30. Decipher
31. Pansy
32. Petunia
33. Rosemary
34. Trepidation
35. Tantalize
36. Tarnation
37. Cahoots
38. Necromancy
39. Chromatography
40. Carnation
41. Yonder
42. Credential
43. Velcro
44. Pewter
45. Kinky
46. Knavery
47. Lactiferous
48. Lament
49. Largish- rather large
50. Leniency
51. Ought
52. Ostensible
53. Salutation
54. Scallop
55. Scad
56. Schlep
57. Scintillation
58. Abstention
59. Abyss
60. Abrupt
61. Altercation
62. Anaplastication
63. Anchorage
64. Arbitrary
65. Ballistics
66. Baloney
67. Barter
68. Boor
69. Brigade
70. Behoove
71. Canasta
72. Caption
73. Carrot
74. Clue
75. Cobbler
76. Drudge
77. Droit
78. Encapsulate
79. Façade
80. Fabulous
81. Defenestrating
82. Finicky
83. Challot
84. Hermaphrodite
85. Luscious
86. Lecivious
87. Potentate
88. Fodder
89. Articulate
90. Scrumptious
91. Percolate
92. Phenomena
93. Seizure
94. Rapture
95. Apocalyptic
96. Bubble
97. Pillow
98. Serpentine
99. Stenohaline
100. Transudation
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)