30 Poems in 30 Days

[champagne1982]

2007-1-8

Fair of Face

No worry shirrs her brow;
high and round, a frontal
lobe presence, forward
thoughts and futuristic
plans to light eyes
from the past, aglow.

A heart smile lifts lips
cornerwise and sheer
delight in life; continued
practice of gentle surety,
content, feminine, mother;
curved smooth and firm.

Pure lives animate features
with love and trials; passage
marked with folds pressed
into place through laughter's
delight and momentary
sorrows' tears; washed away,
leaving a fair countenance.

 

[4degrees]

6-2

anon but con,
black stockings covered
bright ink renderings
good on one leg
evil on the other
spilt down the middle, he was
in more ways than one
scott lucas in the background
to cover up the sound of
a creaky wooden bed
and the 'fuck mes' he said.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

1:5

A Thought On Lust

Even if the words
were clear, fast and divine
the city would always remain
a landscape I could draw
all over your skin
as a thought on lust.

This is a meditation
on the loss of tigers
waves, clouds and geometry
even if all the words
get back from the journey
as a thought on lust.

Try not to move
not to crawl under
the avalanche of clowns;
this is a better idea
even if words meet
as a thought on lust.

 

[Sara Crewe]

5-8

.....

 

[Lauren Hynde]

1:6

In my utopia
you belong in
a Schoenberg's song
in a medieval adventure
a B movie
About a Girl.

And I'll never forgive you
the drawn death on the wooden floor.
You shouldn't have died like that
without at least some music
a volatile scream
in the echo of a guitar.

Dumb Dumb Dumb
I'll never forgive you
but I'm not that angry anymore.

Happiness is a very cold gun.
Stay awhile.

 

[champagne1982]

2007-1-9

Full of Grace

She washes his feet
with her hair
and silent whispers
of understanding
stressed life of demands
that he forgets kindness
(or was it his to remember?)

Her acceptance won't allow
this to matter in her world
of quiet gifts of comfort
and warm forgiveness
of the hurts he never notices
he's bestowed on her heart
the disdain he's handed
to her thoughts.

She stands behind
and to the right
his strength he doesn't
recognize or value
but she knows how far
he has to fall and will
be there to catch him.

 

[4degrees]

6-3

the doctor is in

symptomatic of something
incurable as of now
science may one day
discover the magic serum
an immunization
for hopeless in-love-ism
but today, they can just
prescribe soul methadone
and hope for some recovery.

 

[ShyErraticTable]

9

Not as Some Loves

Sometimes, some loves will merely drop away—
indifference will most any love condemn.
It's best that some loves die, and then decay.

Sometimes, contention sends weak loves astray,
and love grows stagnant, dull, before the end.
Sometimes some loves will merely drop away,

but not a proper love, a love for which we pray,
one that is fervent, and never needs amends.
It's best that some loves die, and then decay.

Our love's not weak. It's firm. Yes, others say
that they'll be always joined. But that's pretend.
Sometimes some loves will merely drop away.

That's not our love. Ours is the only way
to make us whole, both as lovers and as friends.
It's best that some loves die and then decay.

At end our love is sure. Again I say
our love is straight, is pure—our love won't bend.
Sometimes some loves will merely drop away.
It's best that some loves die and then decay.

 

[Sara Crewe]

5-9

......

 

[Lauren Hynde]

1:7

Abstract

The melody
heaving in the piano
miniscule perhaps
impetuous
drawn with bare hands
poison and slowness
comes calmly.

Seven times
signs of appeasing
another
bellic opportunity
imagined without guilt
tigers all white
postponed thunders.

Suspended painting
sin with tongues
expressed like this
canonically
immersed in the river
torn soundlessly
syncopated laughs.

Soft rose
siren of yearning
wait inside
myself
let all whispers
even the lion
evoke lost jungles.

Don't move
don't stare at the blue
return your hands
the theorems
all past lives.
On the poet's music sheet
plays an invisible romance.

 

[4degrees]

6-4

one cigarette, or two?
my chocolate coated love,
tapping my tongue with
temptation beyond
the darkest daydream

a daily dream that's
three parts you
four parts me
to see though the
veil, the blindfold that's
two newspapers thick
is a trick i learned
back in school.

and now-the waltz.

blown dirty by a northwest
gust, flushed and flustered
and spun into gold, cold
feathers keep the birds warm
another oxymoron added to
a list, irreconciled
miscalculous via misanthropist
inventing more words to look as
fancy plumage
cover up the triple x tattoo.

 

[ShyErraticTable]

10

Plainsong

I want your body.
.............That should not be surprise.
Have I not said so?
.............I thought my speech was plain.
I know you know it.
.............I see it in your eyes.
I want your body.
.............That should not be surprise.
For I have told you,
.............with fingertips and sighs
and with my breathing.
.............That's all I need explain.
I want your body.
.............It should not be surprise.
My love, my lady,
.............as speech is very plain.

 

[Sara Crewe]

5-10

.....

 

[champagne1982]

2007-1-10

Child of Woe

Born in sorrow he suffers
hardship never known
in the land of mediocre
studies and average
exhaustion merely
touches normal while his
suffering drags him
into sleep like death
like prebirth
like nothing
nothing more than more
mountains for Wednesday's
boy to cry over
Wednesday's tears.

 

[champagne1982]

2007-1-11

Thursday's Wanderer

Step out of bounds
just to test how far
ties stretch, fingers

clutch. Until the taut
leash breaks and sets
free all those ways
your feet want to walk.

Miles to go before goals
are even apparent. To rush
is to miss delights
hidden a little farther
off the path, but explore.

Seek these mysteries
that lengthen the travel
but ultimately shorten
the distance you must go.

 

[4degrees]

6-5

midwest love and crime
finalizing a sweet insubordination
the city is my master
high in the belltower
comfort within discomfort
happily ever after.

 

[Sara Crewe]

5-11

......

 

[Lauren Hynde]

1:8

Props and Wardrobe

Cher's coat
in Suspect

Cher's smile
in the same movie
and her doughy eyes.

Nicole Kidman's
naked back
in the opening credits

The wooden box
Peter Fonda gives
to Miss Lilith

(Rapture
is the word
Vincent uses)

The tremor of the couple
sitting on the sofa
in The Age of Innocence

Her dress
her hands
and his eyes
on her neck

Dean Martin's glass
in Rio Bravo

(Dean Martini is
a vodka straight-up
with a cigarette and a match)

The underwear
of Rio Bravo's mysterious woman
all the objects
of Rio Bravo
and all the gestures
found therein

Marlon Brando's
eye scar
and seeing one's soul
as a scar

Eleanor Parker's shine
in The Man
with the Golden Arm
for no reason
other than her shine

Garbo at the end
of Queen Christina
she who had Gustafsson
for last name
and that candid
neutral terror
of those who know
that love is not
where we want it to be

The sweet Jean
again
asking softly
what he knows
of the vertigo
with which Lilith
maddens
the promised paradise
and also hell
already found

Pacino's panic
sitting in Needle Park
all as blue
as a message
from a furious ocean

(There are more shades of blue
in the crystal sets
of memory
framed by
the collapsing present

I even saw some blue
in Red River's
cosmic plain)

Dick Tracy's
yellow overcoat
and also his hat

Angelina's tears
in Beyond Borders
and the method
with which she cries them

(My eyes
as I cross
the rooms of the palace)

 

[ShyErraticTable]

11

Sunset

Wine-light
poured over trees—
a deep, rich burgundy.
Light slips into unconsciousness,
passed out.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

1:9

In time
all turns
from possible to improbable

In time
we uninhabit
the body's condition
its signature

In time
we find the fractal meaning
in the face of time
known things
turn to whisper

The future is a bitter crash
a truncated vortex
turning to smoke

Divorced from chance
we quietly part

In the desert
we silently scream

 

[ShyErraticTable]

12

Ghazal on Love and Nature

Nature is not Nurture, nor is it ever love.
Darwin observed Nature, where sex is never love.

It is not love's nature when passion flares, begets
those unruly feelings that overpower love.

There is no passion greater than one rooted, calm.
Frantic swells of passion just kill and smother love.

Emotion can be trying, breed unpleasantness;
too much may make a lover seek another love.

A sturdy table's always steady, careful, set—
the platform to support your willful, clever love.

 

[4degrees]

6-6

storm gray on the horizon
water molecules collect inside
my heavy lids, and press them
outward
smoke billows out an open
headwound, an uninhabitable
home for the homeless
homesick and soulless, as
they dig into a dead man's pocket;
observing this rockets
me into a fourth dimension
of mortal existance
resistance absorbs self
wrecks the effects of
this life altogether.
yeah.

 

[Sara Crewe]

5-12

......

 

[Liar]

7-1

I have no idea what round I'm on.

monolith

unknowing,
in the midst of calculating

the signal to noise ratio of a hydrogen bomb that could fracture tectonics
the impact of colliding quasars on quarks
the bottom of a fractal

a door swung open
a door clicked shut

and dejected shoes
thumped softly
down the corridor

for the last time

 

[champagne1982]

2007-1-12

Loving Care

He always holds his arms wide
ready as a refuge in chaos,
a kind word amidst argument.

He soothes nerves scoured raw
with careful hands softened
by patience and his wisdom

offers a clean handkerchief
held out to one who has nothing,
without thought of reward.

Friday's child may have little
to call his own but what's his,
will find its way into what's
someone else's treasured joy.