Tag: poetry exercise
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art to optimism
ughf! dyspeptic morning and the whole dayyet to go. oh, but I took a vow ofoptimism: how am I to face thisin brightness, this overcast novembermorning with my belly aching and headfilled with allergy cobwebs, eyes itchywatering and thus painting the world drabwater color . . . and now, suddenly, I turnmy mind to matisse…
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Filler
this is a filler sonnet. it has littlelife its own, is meant to wedge in betweenpoems in a collection — for you, dearreader, because at this point you’re inun-dated with poetry and likely notpaying close attention, and not everyverse can be a work of genius, evenfrom a writer of great talent or skill. it’s not…
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Correspondent Love
break me out, she said. I will love you, sheswore. her letters always brief and to the point.halfway to indy from here, barrelingdown i-74 east, my first tireblew out, shreds of tire across the highwaylike feathers from a murdered crow. changingthe flat took an hour because my car trunkis full of books and . .…
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Another Dave off to Cali
he’d had enough, he told us. ten years hereafter high school and going nowhere slowas a sunday drive in the country. nowis the time to start my life over, he said,time to go turn over that fabulousleaf and find out what’s beneath . . . driving outwest to california, he proclaimed. there’ssome fine woman out…
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After a Classic Poem
thoughts contained in nothing run out, waterleaking from a cracked urn, and where is keatsto chronicle its ode? but, no, it isnot graced with fauns nor bacchants dancing nude;indeed it is but a whitewashed vesselof no particular pedigree, banaland lonesome for its homeliness, commonenough to be found at any flea marketor the roadside shop of…
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Equinox
we raised a toast to night and poesy,we raised our toast to the muses nine;she, smiling, reflected moonlight and star shine,pale face floating above the campfire, lightas mist but clear as the evening’s chill outsidethe campfire’s glow of warmth and hickory smoke. we raised a toast to tomorrow and life,we raised a toast to passions…
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Occult
mystery is a thing of feathers, flies awayon bat-wings, crawls into the earth through suspiciousburrowed holes, swims alongside sharks and within podsof dolphins, sings with angels’ voices, screeching onthe strings of demon fiddles and beats with drummingpercussion through the blood of all sentients. mysterythe lifeblood of knowledge and breath of wisdom, inhaledbrings curiosity to awaken…
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Down on Fifth
forever the beggar, king of no kingdombut the dusty lanes of nowhere, he smilesfor his dimes, a blessing for a dollar;at midday, or when whim strikes him, oronce the coins add up to a little something,he slips down to the huck’s on carpenterstreet for a magnum of malt (and a pintof brandy, E-n-J, on a…
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Boomer Granddame
sad-eyed she says he needs her, but she can’tstand him. he’s a habit she’s had fortyyears now: how’s she supposed to quit him now;she mourns her wasted youth, though praises godover the seven fine children they raisedtogether—though one is dead and a daughteris in prison for life—she wonders aloudto that same god where everything went…
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Roadtrip
it was time for a change of scenery;too long we’d danced in stagnant rain on prairiesand wanted for some elevation, orperhaps bigger sky or broader blue scapes.undecided, we headed west in the carplaying novels on CD as the milesslipped by, the asphalt river racing pastbeneath worn tires and we watching roadsidesfor occasional animals, hawks byday,…
Fringemonkey Scribbles 