Got poems?
Apparently I do tonight (early morning)...
This I wrote on the 15th. Guess what it is supposed to be:
Rusted skeleton creaks
arthritic joints as it moves.
Red flaky dandruff falls,
and the wheels moan an ache.
Breaks resist a shifting, and
the horn squeaks softly.
Some haikus, two in traditional Japanese style, two in the American Jack Kerouac style, and then four "haiku sentences." I warn you, some of these are pretty damn bad.
Falling leaves chatter.
Children scatter in the wind.
There is no difference.
Love is like Autumn:
It begins hot, passionate,
but cools as winds come.
On the third apartment step
the poet writes
Jack Kerouac haikus.
Copper rings imprison
lined flakes of scrap paper
to trap the imagined.
Marianne laughs boldly as silver daggers fall from thunderstorm skies.
Graffiti, from three years ago, is on a school sign in a small town.
Her aqua eyes are difficult to look into longer than seconds.
Melissa's eyes are intense beyond the glare of the sun at mid-day.
This poem I was supposed to take a phrase (like, "I put my foot in my mouth" which really means "I said something I shouldn't have said.") and to make a story, literal story, out of that... but without using the actual words. I did an okay job, but I have written better. None of it is based on my life, or anyone else's. I simply made this one up completely. Also wrote this on the 15th.
November 21st.
We dated seven months,
hit a crucial moment
of decisions and compromises.
Words were spoken,
hand gestures made.
Seven was coming to an end
and I was grasping.
She waved the air,
shapes meant words,
and before long I knew
my words were wrong:
our language had barriers.
She did not understand
how my foot, 8 1/2 inches,
could fit in my small mouth,
nor what it meant.
I tried sticking my elbow in,
but it couldn't reach.
Her gestures continued
but I did not understand
the noises from her armpit
when she pumped, nor
the sideways click of heels.
Seven months was a long time
to communicate only by words.
Tonight I wrote this one, where we are supposed to take a very emotional moment and not describe it specifically, but describe it through a metaphor, through some other action. I didn't quite do it that way, but sorta.
The Day Dad Died
I was in a good mood:
Plans to make sushi were underway.
I measured Koshihikari rice
into one cup, rinsed thoroughly,
then poured one and a fourth
cups of water into a pan.
The phone rang. I answered.
Mom spoke. I said, "Okay."
She hung up. I sat still.
I have not made sushi since.
This one I wrote tonight too, and it is supposed to be based on a dream. I'll explain the dream AFTER the poem, so don't read that part yet.
Its Thursday morning and I
just woke up. My tongue is sore,
but I realize it is pushing against
my left incisor. The tooth
comes loose, falls over my lip and
onto my chest, bloody, with other teeth.
I keep pushing more teeth out,
numb ache in my gums, my jaws
feel cracked, and I lay dumbfounded,
unable to stop my teeth from falling out.
I panic: my hands can't seem
to reach my mouth to stop my tongue.
All 32 teeth lay on my chest,
chin and lips blood-streaked, and
I feel uglier than I ever felt before.
Ok. So I dreamt all of that once. And I couldn't even make myself wake up from the dream before it was over. I looked it up some place what "teeth falling out" or "rotten teeth" is supposed to mean... One definition is that the dreamer is concerned about money matters. The other definition is that the dreamer is concerned about their physical appearance. I went with the second description, since it pretty much sounds like it makes more sense. I dreamt this dream back in April of 2003 or sometime around then.
I have to decide now which one of these poems I will bring Tuesday to class to turn into the teacher and to also have peer-reviewed in a small group. hrm. Probably the father one.
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