Sending poetry to the world
oh certain first spring nights
the tree blossoms
have this sticky sour smell
that wafts joyous
with grilled meats smoking
oh inhaling, inhaling till
i’m back in a thousand memories
and you’re with me
all of you are with me
oh how the sliver moon full of shadow
witnesses the
scented blindfold
take my arm, lead me
home.
“I’m a womaaaann” (yeah, yeah)
she stout,
poured into black pants
and a spotlight.
Small stage, growing smaller,
“I’m a womannnnn” (yeah yeah)
and the last syllable
has the same timbre,
of her hair toss
and her thighs still shaking
after a stomp.
Greedily exhausting
all oxygen, the room
no longer breathing, I
feel those flames
leap from organ to organ,
saving the heart for last.
she remembers still
dressing impeccably,
regally in matching shoes and
handbag with fringe,
remembers twirling nervously
on the way to the city,
to the theater,
where the horror movie picture played.
Guest post tonight by author Bobby Ty. He treats us with a piece left in the comments section of this blog. It (along with some of his other comments in the past) deserves recognition. Enjoy and leave him your thoughts below… Thank you Bobby Ty! Looking forward to more from you. If any of you other readers are interested in guest blogging, please let me know….
Cowards
We get to say
Those things we can’t say
Out loud
We cowards
We poets
We don’t say it
Bluster and
Bravado we “just wrote it that way”
Only
We mean it; can’t say it
Aloud…
Cowards…
There is this cat on the walk
And when I shuffle on by,
She swishes her tail, she
Stops to say hi.
There is this cat on the walk,
I swear she knows me,
She looks up with pause,
She rubs legs with a cause.
And before she runs off
This cat seems to say
“You think it ain’t true
But I’m one you once knew….”
When they told me
she had died,
I went to the piano.
Mazurka
by Chopin –
in the pained
stutter of
one who doesn’t
practice much.
Again, and again,
low D to high, hit the
trill,
bass chords steady,
decrescendo leading to a…
false note.
Again.
All the while thinking,
I should have practiced more.
I should have…
creak the casebound open
bury nose deep, inhale more
tradition old, rich
pages, each begging
like American beauties
perfuming the yard.
aside from some miserable treatment at the W Chicago Lakeshore (don’t stay there), what a beautiful city! even in clouds. reminds me of almost three years ago…
http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/02/sky-cannot-know-ground.html
new poetry will return soon. still working on my submission for the Ruth Lily scholarship! until then, enjoy….
Hi blog readers! I’m taking a few days off to relax/recharge and get a poetry submission ready for the Ruth Lily Foundation. So your homework assignment – explore the site! Read! Enjoy! Bye!
PS: don’t forget our friends at EveryDayPoets – lots of good poetry to read daily:
http://www.everydaypoets.com/
Press Send Poetry 