International Poetry Writing Month - November Poems ONLY

[annaswirls]

Nov 7

"Are you there God?
It's Me, Margaret's father.
I know you know her,
she talks to you all the time.

I am sure you are aware,
she just got her first period.
So, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

My son, He says
whatever you do
do not try to write a poem about the experience,
and if you must, try not to show any daughters or mothers.
They will never understand,
nor even try to see the view from the outside.

And they know, somehow they know
it is all Our fault.

 

[BooMerengue]

November 8th
#8

Untitled Glosa

Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn;
Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd
And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.

The stars went dim; Moon turned her face away
as all of Heaven's light began to wane
Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
The question hung unbalanced as the day


unfolded warped and dark as Saturns eyes
while tears of rain bled thickly from the sky
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn;
and carved a murderous path down mountain side.


The answer hung as nothing in the air

Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd


D1
D2
And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.
D3​

I've been working on this for 2 days and it's making me crazy! This'll have to do for my entry for today as I am whipped.

 

[wildsweetone]

9. Two by Four

There’s a scar
on his brown leg
where his mother
beat him. The

two by four leans
against the kitchen
wall, close to hand

for that quick whack.
Dull thuds
resonate
around the room
as wood
pounds
skin.

Yelps of pain
are ignored
as his son’s brown leg
bruises.

 

[Liar]

VIII

it ain't easy
to shit bricks and spit black death with the big boys all day
wear barb wire thorns and be a machismo martyr
king of my castle all that trash

listen up, this is ten fingers tapping a 104 until it bleeds,
spewing forth the muck stuffed stale inside my arteries
and maybe, just maybe
there is a world outside tomorrow
two pair of eyes that reads

but if not,
here is a container for a no-brainer sliver
all the slush puppie cool pent up in my liver

erase, re-hash, stack the deck, bring on the booze
this puppet is ready for another round

 

[flyguy69]

"Are you there God?
It's Me, Margaret's father.

Yes, Margaret... I know you know her,
she talks to you all the time.

Well you must already know,
she just got her period.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Son, He says
whatever you do
don't try to write a poem about the experience.
At least not for the daughters and mothers
because they will never understand
nor try to see the view from the outside.

And they know, somehow they know
it is all our fault.

I just spit coffee.

 

[My Erotic Tale]

Naturally

Leaves are shaped
so the rain and dew drops
flow off of them,
perfectly

naturally

Trees grow and reach
and shade us from the sun's
scorching rays
on hot days

naturally

People's minds
are able to comprehend
but...
then again
they may choose not to

naturally


.....( #9 )......​

 

[wildsweetone]

10. I cried last night

A bent man walked onto the stage,
placed his props together,
a table, small
and a vase of roses, three.

He sat, one leg
crossed over the other
in the relaxed manner
of one akin to sharing
him self in lights.

He read typed poetry
from a clipboard, words
of his young dead
son.

He read
about the three roses,
blood red,
virgin white,
and one pink.
And the words filled the church.

I can not remember
what he said
though my heart spilled
and tears streamed
from my soul.
In the silence after
I was consumed
with love and understanding
for a man I would never meet.

 

[BooMerengue]

November 9th
#9

No Love Songs Here

My heart isn't broken, no
it works quite well
at keeping me here
for you

My spirit is broken, yes
and won't be mended
anytime soon.

But you don't care, not
about that; it's
what you wanted,
for you.

So...​

 

[wildsweetone]

11. A thought

in deafness
the sounds
of others
are flawed

 

[Liar]

IX

Babysitting Blues

pouting Peter
puts on his best indignition
in spite of a blooming
anticipation he can barely hide

because he is Right
and the movie is Wrong

(or at least the cover is)

bouncing Bella
has no love for her brother's
knowitall silly

put it on put it on now!​

but no, Petey puts a foot down
and Demands
(as always always always Bella whispers in her head)

why is it called
The Cat
In
The Hat
when the cat is not In
and the hat is On?

or at least on the cover
they should really Tell those
Important Things right away (murmured)​

no Bella, don't roll your eyes at your brother
no Peter, don't make faces back

do you wanna see or not?
thought so

 

[Liar]

X

The boy with the lego ego
met the girl with the ego lego.

With an itch to scratch
she took her spare part
colletion bag
to his assembly heart
for deconstruction.

Do I have a brick of me
for you? Or did I only take you
to pieces? I'm sorry, but I know
no other way to see,
if all the random parts I have
are parts of someone else,
or all that is me.​

The girl with the ego lego
took a blue piece out,
put a black piece in,
and the boy with the lego ego
will live and breathe
and never forget.

Fair trade? Fair enough.

But she still can't seem to
actually build
anything.

 

[annaswirls]

Nov 8

Baby you are finishing the job he started
turning me inside out like an old purse
shakin' out the dust and crumbs
shakin' it hard
'cos you know there are always holes in the bottom
where the really good stuff hides
and you shake me baby shake me
slide your fingers in
you know there is more down there
you can hear the jingle

 

[BooMerengue]

November 11th
#10

Best Intentions

A maple shed a leaf today
just one, but a serious one
not quite red, but close
with edges still firm not flaky.
With abandon and glee she
skittered across the lawn
toward the road and paused
choosing directions
but the wind came
lifting her into his whirlwind
and off she went
joyriding, tasting forbidden
pleasures of gust
til she caught the hand
of an outstretched balsam
and slowly circled
................. down

......................... down

til she came to rest
in a nest under his prickly
warmth and settled down
to finish what she came for.​

 

[wildsweetone]

.....

 

[annaswirls]

I do not want to dominate you
as much as I want to fold you into a paper swan
and let you melt on my tongue

all of my poetry dissolves
like ink on heavy paper
all colors bleed from black

cut me a snowflake

for bc

 

[annaswirls]

Nov 10

It is not the tone or the time
for crochet conversations
click of metal, pull of thread
I want to spin, unravelled by your voice.

Lover just speak to me,
count the waterfowl
oie de canard de canard
recite your shopping list
céleri, poulet rôti, huile d'olive
anything, anything!

Stitches ripped, you wrap my cord
and whisper me down, down until my silence
stutters into a breathless mound.

 

[annaswirls]

do not stumble from tight stretched sheets
fully clothed and try to record

dreams and nightmares
in iambic pentamater
or other poetic trickery

charm does not translate
does not carry the spun sugar of dreams

it pours like crystals
into a metal sink

 

[My Erotic Tale]

Dead End~

I thought I was right
till
I took a left
ran smack 'dab' into
a dead end


I watched her curves
wondering
what was around
'the bend'

roaming mounds
loop
looking for
'clearance'

stop

crashed into
a wedding band
at a high rate of need

at the intersection
of lonely

......( #10 )........​

 

[BooMerengue]

*shuffle shuffle shuffle

Move along, please. Move along.

 

[wildsweetone]

12. recycle me baby


recycle me baby
you know you want
to throw me on the scrap
heap where you think
I belong. I see the wish
in your eyes, but know you
can’t quite bring yourself
to chuck me out. Well,
wake up baby, ‘cos
I’m going on my own.
I’m leaving you
to your own defences
those miniscule remembrances
won’t keep you warm
at night and nor
will they wrap their arms
around you and hold you close
when you’re stressed or sorry
but unable to say the word.
so, breathe in deep baby
you’re on your own.

 

[BooMerengue]

November 11th
#11

The Unborn Star

Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn;
Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd
And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.

The stars went dim; Moon turned her face away
as all of Heaven's light began to wane
Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
The question hung unbalanced as the day

unfolded warped and dark as Saturns eyes
while tears of rain bled thickly from the sky
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn;
and carved a murderous path down mountain side.

The answer hung as nothing in the air
Sad Gaia's eyes were shrouded in despair
Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd
Lord Saturn turned away; he would not dare

She would not make the choice to be a star
Her burden was too precious then, by far
And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn
He turned and gazed at heaven from afar.​

 

[Liar]

XI


nerver underesimitate the flimsicallity
of a vougecabulary gone bananarama
when the purrpose is to confuscate
your derection and lurve you in

cuz you know
I'll win

she said

and fell as a rain of titter
into my head

 

[annaswirls]

XI


nerver underesimitate the flimsicallity
of a vougecabulary gone bananarama
when the purrpose is to confuscate
your derection and lurve you in

cuz you know
I'll win

she said

and fell as a rain of titter
into my head

I want
to kiss
boys.

 

[annaswirls]

XI ie 11

Songbird memories of carefully placed gardens
and well stocked feeders
are passed through generations
who return by the hundreds every year.

Mother watches from the bay window,
her hands suspended over the dishwater
as a new species of warbler disappears
into the white pine.

Here it is mostly the starling and sparrow,
common wren and black crow that scour
our neighborhood for crumbs.

Mourning doves call for their dead
from slate rooftops.
They wait for what drops
from my wooden feeder.

But this morning I heard her,
the chickadee of my childhood.
The chickadee that once followed me
down to the barn
where my father reached his arm
right inside the cow
and pulled out the dead calf by it's feet.
White steam rose from it's warm body,
for a moment.

And my chickadee, she found the new feeder before
the street gang of English sparrows
chased her
with sharp beaks and fluttered wings.

He told me,
You must write a poem about your birds.
As always, as always,
there must be some tension. You are good
with tension. Maybe contrast the idyllic
setting of your mother's home
and you, there, making it work
the best you can,

and sex
make it have sex
because you know girl
there always has to be sex.

Two robins are doin’ it in front of 1827
there out in public, while my children rustle like leaves
to the bus stop.

 

[My Erotic Tale]

With-zen

I sit
'with-zen'
my own mind

at my desk
looking at nothing
thinking of everything
'with-zen' my knowledge

satisfying
my tranquility
with mountain lakes
and streams
'with-zen' the trees

never
giving thought
to hurricanes,
volcanos and tornados
mother natures clash
with-zen

When
I spilt my 'hot' coffee
in my lap
it was 'with-zen' my legs

I screamed
with-zen

......( #11 ) ......​