One a Day in May: Spring Cleaning

[unpredictablebijou]

May #9

Counterpoint


Grown to be a spouse, another half,
your foil and balance point
the fulcrum of your power,
a widower by seventeen, a son
of eight-limbed creatures, what you sought
was also mythical, a basilisk.
Now neither you nor other
and neither god nor brother
to your name, you're cast from Eden,
from the world of harmless women
to the teeth of orphanage, the split
like firewood, of self from self,
a couplet unresolved, a chord
left hanging, one end of a line.

We live, you and I, with invisible ghosts,
a space which has defined us,
a departure from which we mark time,
a turning point. These shadows,
these refractions are the foil, the frame
in which we are set and balanced.
We know pain in pleasure and death in love;
we are familiar with the tune of bones,
the bass hum of the frame
on which we're hung, the low drone
of blood and skeleton beneath
the bright and fleeting chatter of the mind.

And always, so, we seek the other half,
the un-thing, that which fills the space,
and all the metaphors of unity
forgotten in the rush to match
ourselves against some new pursuit.
You held it in your hand for all this time,
you hold it yet – a simple truth:
the symmetry of self in counterpoint
to self, of balance in the feet and eyes
of yin and yang contained
and singing harmonies.

 

[Angeline]

The RITZ brothers? I LOVE them. How cool is that?
I'm going to try to get caught up.


Scening


In this
rebellious place
we shed our outer skins
and in raw muscle we find our
nature

The slap
of each surprise
we offer each other
dancing our powers in battle
wakes us.

Resist
a stimulus
or a desire, and it
comes to define you, surging up,
undead.

But look
it in the face
make it a clown, and laugh
at the monstrous things you contain
and wake

Desire
and fear are huge
til they're fit through the mouth;
they shrink, become toys, and gleeful
costumes.

The Ritz connection may explain my goofy ways.

And I love the last strophe of this poem. The whole thing is good (except for the clowns; I no likee scary clowns), but that last bit is delicious.

I must slog off now to find poems. I've blown this task off for the past two days (but AnnaBanana suggested we can skip sometimes, which is why I lovvvve this challenge), and it's time to get rolling again!

 

[champagne1982]

The Ritz connection may explain my goofy ways.

And I love the last strophe of this poem. The whole thing is good (except for the clowns; I no likee scary clowns), but that last bit is delicious.

I must slog off now to find poems. I've blown this task off for the past two days (but AnnaBanana suggested we can skip sometimes, which is why I lovvvve this challenge), and it's time to get rolling again!

You can slack off for a day or two but she was insisting we have 31 edits at the end of the month... Just a word of warning to the procrastination crowd.

 

[champagne1982]

A Day In May #9

Never Brought To Mind
January 2005

Young men of a certain age
are putty in my hands.
My look or glance or fluttering finger
wave leaves them stuttering
nonsense off their tongues,
when all those young Lotharios
likely want, is to flutter a tongue
over my senses.

Then, just next door to midnight,
the streamers flew and confetti
caught my curls.
By the time the horns blew
and champagne flowed
most of the putty boys
had slowly melted away
and I was left
with merely three to kiss me.

The wistful notes of Auld Lang Syne
went dancing out to friends
just newly gone from the living ether.
I sang it for those who passed
and who I'll long remember.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot?
In my heart, they live forever.

After the glitter of a gala night
what's left but to sweep it away?
The foil that shone so bright,
the coloured cellophane -- a filter
on a too-white light; all so much
dross in the hung-over fog
of a new year's dawn.
_____________________________________________

Never Brought To Mind V2.0

Young men of a certain age
are putty in my hands.
My look or glance or fluttered
wave, stutters nonsense
off their tongues,
even though those Lotharios
merely want to flutter
stuttered tongues
over my senses.

Then, next door to midnight,
the streamers flew and confetti
caught my curls.
By the time the horns blew
and champagne flowed
the putty boys
had slowly melted away
and I was left
with only three to kiss.

A wistful Auld Lang Syne
danced away to friends
newly gone afar.
I sang it for those who'd passed
and who I'll long remember.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot?
In my heart, they live forever.

After the glitter of a gala night
what's left but to sweep it away?
The foil that shone so bright,
the coloured cellophane -- a filter
on a too-white light; all so much
dross in the hung-over fog
of a New Year's dawn.

 

[loststar]

day 7

Salivate, salutations, all of this is salvation
Imagination, conversation, agitation, animation
pretty pink perfect Barbie, smart because you want to be
brush your hair, hide your secrets
be your own imitation
read your books, avoid the looks
pretty perfect Barbie, smart because you want to be
you smile when you turn around
I am lost but I am found
pretty perfect, look at me
see beyond what you see
salutations talk to me
tell me what you want to be
perfect if you want to be
tell me what you want to be
brush your teeth
rinse your mouth
do you know what these eyes hold
an image of you so bold
as perfect as you want to be
look at me see beyond what you see
destroy what you've built up
think about it
crave around it
smile when you see the real me
perfect I know you are more than I see
Is this is meant to be
If not set me free, though you claim no hold on me
Salivate, salutations, all of this is salvation

 

[loststar]

day 8

My silver has slipped in
amongst your treasures
those that I strip off your skin
that ritual that proceeds our pleasures
stripping you of reality
one by one
sometimes slowly
but mostly in a hurry

 

[Angeline]

Chagall's Bride

V2: 2008
I sail into midnight
in a gown of cobwebs, in firefly earrings.
I wear no shoes. I skim barefoot
through spirits. I float above
zombie louts, those Calibans,
those mooncalves who wonder
and stumble. I float alone
trailing serenity in a dusty blue wake.
I sing thin hymns to the night.
It swallows them whole.

Tears skate my cheeks like mercury.
They drop in tiny silver beads,
each one a starry story, particles
of secret that dot the sky.
Follow them and you may find me
where I bless the bread twice,
pulling air to me, pulling HaShem to me.
My whispers curse the darkness
and shatter yorsite candles.
Crows glide up from the earth
and speak to me from empty eyes.

They see angels. I do not.
I am occupied. I scatter
the distant ground, the barren ground
with memories cast in meteor dust
and so the Perseids are active tonight.



V1: 2007
I flew into the darkness
in a gown of cobwebs. I wore firefly earrings,
no shoes. I skimmed through spirits:
zombie louts denied by a falling tree,
an overturned cart. Calibans
who wander and stumble, mooncalves
on the moonscape and the angels
who leave contrails of serenity in a wake
of blue dust, not the tri-winged Seraphim,
but the lesser choirs, pale and aesthetic,
singing thin hymns the night swallows whole.

Your tears are like mercury in my palm.
If I touch them they scatter in tiny silver beads
and each one is a story, each story a life
that I must preserve. How can your tears
have meaning if I don't paint them
in stories, young boys in schtetl life,
grooming horses and later shrouded,
praying in the tallis knit to the waist.

I bless the bread twice, pulling the air
to me, pulling god to me and the candles
burn now as they did decades ago,
a small curse against the darkness
in a yorsite glass jar. The crows glide
up from the lawn to accompany me.
They watch me with empty eyes.
They see the angels better than I do,
but we don't follow them and I've a mind

to scatter your tears, seed the earth
with memory, but the ground is barren
or I am so I wait instead for brilliant
meteor dust. The Perseids are active tonight.

 

[champagne1982]

A Day In May #10

Daylight Savings Comes Early
March 2007

Would a crocus bloom
because man sees the sun
before the moon sets? Tulips
rest, hyacinths slumber
deep, snow lies heavy.

The garden sleeps until
it's time. Expectant
cows low with the first
pangs of laboured birth,
woke with the sun beams
through dusty windows
that press welcome heat
to spring's newborn eyes.

The buds nod their heads
to a slower rhythm
of birdsong still unsung,
nests not feathered. Breath
held, frost suspended, we wait
for flocks and the wind
to fly over and break the ice
that holds the lake captive.
________________________________

Daylight (Savings) Comes Early V2

Would a crocus bloom
because man sees the sun
before moonset? Tulips
rest, hyacinths slumber
deep snow lies heavy.

The garden sleeps until
it's time. Expectant
cows low with the first
pangs of labour, woke with
sun through dusty windows;
rays that press welcome heat
to spring's newborn eyes.

Leaf buds nod their heads
to a slower rhythm
of birdsong, still unsung,
nests not feathered. Breath
and frost suspended, waiting
for the flocks and the wind
to fly over, breaking the ice
that holds the lake captive.

 

[loststar]

day 9

how far should we go
we move closer
closer
drag me under
deeper
druging me
deep red wine
slipping into my system
how much control is left
I curse, you chuckle
it drives me crazy
you drive me crazy
I let it burn
I feed you, you feed me
who knew
how fun lunch could be

 

[loststar]

day 10

fear and heartbreak
_____________confusion
________________and astonishment
_______________________realization
____________________________and revelation
sorrow
____sadness
___________resolution
___________________hope
_____________________oh
______________sweet hope
_______bringing me back
______to
____the
confusion
______and
_________away from
_________________desperation
___________________________still
_____________________sorrow and sadness
___________________but
_______________it
______________is
_________stemming
_____from
confusion, realization, fear, and sweet hope

 

[unpredictablebijou]

May #10

Thieves Bracelet

Thin serpentine
discs of shell along the string
make a slick thin strand
like a vine that rolls
like a ring-snake along your wrist.
Each singular glint
calls your hungry fingers
to stroke, and pluck at
smooth ridges
row upon slippery row
bone around bone, the gleam
of shell and skin, a skeleton charm.

You'll understand the name.
It draws the long fingers
and the eye, and like
a raven, you see
that slick dark gloss
and you think, Mine.
It should be mine.

 

[annaswirls]

May #8

spider's versions 1-3


~11:07 pm spider whispers to poetess~

just tell them go outside
read it for themselves
skip the middle man poem-hustler
who hawks desiccated translations
like flies wrapped with invisible wire

go on, tell them
spider has all the juice


~floodlight~

Katydid clings to midnight porch rail
confused by her afternoon-sized shadow
What happened to tomorrow morning?
hides in a dark corner
tries to sleep it off

~flagstone map~

30 or so states mapped
in dark slate patterns
On the flagstone porch
Hawaii nestles under Arkansas' arm
and a concrete river cuts between
Tennessee and Utah

New Hampshire and Vermont remain inseparable
(of course)
they always fit together
so nicely

A cricket hops in search of a legend
to deliver him to Jersey

Black beetles circle
confused by conflicting signs
to "Wall Drug" and "South of the Border"
which seems to have been moved North

Spider and Katydid look down from white paint havens
sticky feet above it all

 

[annaswirls]

May #9

eel skin bound

manuscript on display,
propped by reputation
he makes a note:
onion skin eyelids filter more
when open wide.

pupil slits narrow
and tongue flicks the air
for a taste.
pressurized jasmine
sends the signal,
there is nothing worth biting here.

and certainly, it is a well known fact,
verse bound in eel skin
stands more of a chance
of being fondled by lady fingers
that linger over perpendicular lines,
upright and leather tight
straight to reptilian brain.

she makes a note:
to thick skin a bite is as good
as a kiss.

 

[annaswirls]

May #10

Piedmont

I wait for you to show me
the best rocks for building
a bridge across the creek.

We select the large flat ones
for easy balance and step,
but I know it is a favor, this slip
that takes my suede into cool water.

Whenever I get homesick
I find any Piedmont stream.
Thank god, they are all pretty much the same,
the shale bottom slippery with sediment and algae,
tadpoles that hide among fallen branches, minnows
that do not know which way to dart
to escape this stomping creature
that disturbs the waters. They wind up
figure eighting in opposite directions
before organizing a dart behind the rocks.

Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania,
it is pretty much the same in these streams.
Gnats fall into the bright lure of my notebook,
the fish get bigger and fewer
as the water deepens.

You must have been in this stream
at some time, cool waters sting
bramble scratched legs,
leaning trees hang on with branching roots
like they always have.

 

[Angeline]

Piedmont

I wait for you to show me
the best rocks for building
a bridge across the creek.

We select the large flat ones
for easy balance and step,
but I know it is a favor, this slip
that takes my suede into cool water.

Whenever I get homesick
I find any Piedmont stream.
Thank god, they are all pretty much the same,
the shale bottom slippery with sediment and algae,
tadpoles that hide among fallen branches, minnows
that do not know which way to dart
to escape this stomping creature
that disturbs the waters. They wind up
figure eighting in opposite directions
before organizing a dart behind the rocks.

Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania,
it is pretty much the same in these streams.
Gnats fall into the bright lure of my notebook,
the fish get bigger and fewer
as the water deepens.

You must have been in this stream
at some time, cool waters sting
bramble scratched legs,
leaning trees hang on with branching roots
like they always have.

You made me smile, J. I thought "this sounds like home," and then I read the first two lines of the fourth strophe. Yup.

 

[normal jean]

You made me smile, J. I thought "this sounds like home," and then I read the first two lines of the fourth strophe. Yup.

hey Sis!!

Here is a link to a place I plan on showing you and ee when you move down here. It is so much fun!!

sliding rock

I really cant wait to have you close, I need a friend who llives closer who can teach me stuff...yeah, that be you, muawahaha. I hope you still love me after you meet me....crossing fingers here



ps, I went to GS camp near asheville,---Pisgah National Forest GS camp

You can mine for precious stones here- Franklin, NC

America's Castle here- Biltmore House and Gardens

Bridal Veil Falls. Been there, lots of beautiful falls to explore

 

[Angeline]

hey Sis!!

Here is a link to a place I plan on showing you and ee when you move down here. It is so much fun!!

sliding rock

I really cant wait to have you close, I need a friend who llives closer who can teach me stuff...yeah, that be you, muawahaha. I hope you still love me after you meet me....crossing fingers here



ps, I went to GS camp near asheville,---Pisgah National Forest GS camp

You can mine for precious stones here- Franklin, NC

America's Castle here- Biltmore House and Gardens

Bridal Veil Falls. Been there, lots of beautiful falls to explore

Thanks for the links, gorgeous. A few other folks have told us about Sliding Rock. I think I'll love it although I do have a certain fear of major butt burn.

And don't be ridiculous. I will love you always because I already do and have for a long time now.

 

[champagne1982]

A Day In May #11

Mule Deer (in sepia)

In the sandy bottom land
she stood, one leg lifted
as if the world would crack
should she set it down
in the wrong place.

Earth tones and muted grays
blend with the scrub
jacks and young clumps
of wild oat fodder almost
ready for the weaning
days of early summer.

As if a kiss descends; her spine
relaxes and the tension trembles
to the ground, released
in a marvellous exhale as once
more the flies buzz, the birds
sing and the deer moves back
among the sighing trees.
________________________________

Mule Deer (in sepia)

In the sandy bottom land
she stood, one leg poised
as if the world would crack
should she place it wrong.

Earth tones and muted grays
blend with the scrub
jack pines and clumps
of sprouted wild oat fodder
almost ready for fawn weaning
days of early summer.

As if a kiss descends, tension
trembles to the ground; released
in exhale as once more flies
buzz, birds sing and the deer
fades into the sighing trees.

 

[annaswirls]

You made me smile, J. I thought "this sounds like home," and then I read the first two lines of the fourth strophe. Yup.

I am so homesick it is ridiculous. Maybe some day I will be able to write about it but for now I am just too deep in. I sit on the bleachers at my son's baseball game and I see the grandmothers and aunts and cousins, cheering. I see circles around children. Those circles are all that matters and I have taken my children so far from ours. Thank god we have made friends and they let me borrow their mothers to hold my baby.

I sat in church today with two of my three boys and they both fell asleep, one on my breast, one on my arm. I remember the pews in which my uncles and aunts sat in my church. How mother would point out this family and that, tell us how we were related, how she played with that woman over there when she was a little girl on the farm. I remember how my mother told us of our exile numbers, and charted from Levi to Balthasar, Abraham, Christopher, George, all the way back to Silesia, all the way back to the journey across the sea.

But there we sat today, alone in a congregation, none of whom have our blood in their veins, none of whom knew me as anything else than what I am today. No one who stood in front of god and congregation and swore swore swore to be there for this new baby girl and her family. To be there.

Well, they are there.
It is me who is not.

I know I am selfish and I should not complain. but it is just what it is and we have each other. We sit close. We smile and hope people smile back and invite us into their world already established. I never thought I would be one of the new people. But here I am.

And the creeks here are nothing like the northeast. I do have a friend from Oregon who told me of a state park about an hour from here. She told me Jennifer, it is the closest thing I have been to home.... pine trees, tall pine trees and ferns, ferns.... she stretched her hands over the ground, as if it were a miracle. The wind, you could hear it in the tops of the trees...

 

[Angeline]

Poem 8

V2:2008
The apple that my lover gave to me
Glows soft in rose illumed with golden cream,
A perfect fallen orb of blushed beauty
Delights the winter pale with summer's dream.
Yet it's not half so sweet as his warm kiss
Nor scented fragrant as his silken hair.
Its tender flesh cannot compare to bliss
I find within his limbs: an orchard rare!
Still all of nature’s piece are it and he,
Both having left a garden for my side.
Do either tempt a sin of vanity?
Is tasting it or him an act of pride?
I hold it in my palm and contemplate:
Once fallen ‘tis fruitless denying fate.


V1: 2003
Oh, apple that my lover gave to me,
You glow in rose illumed and yielding cream.
Imperfect fallen orb your blushed beauty
Delights my winter’s pale with summer dream.
Yet still not half so sweet as his warm kiss,
Nor scent so fragrant as his golden hair.
Your tender flesh cannot enjoin the bliss
I found within his limbs--an orchard rare!
Still all of nature’s piece are thee and he,
Both having left a garden for my side
Is too much joy a sin of vanity?
Is tasting you or him a false-stepped pride?
I hold you in my palm and contemplate:
Once fallen ‘tis fruitless denying fate.

 

[normal jean]

Oh, so Tempting

Oh, So Tempting

New York Cheesecake raspberry swirled
freshly made donuts and bagels
Essences of food, life in their molecules
float throughout the bakery

Scents exude their sensual summons
irresistible to us humans
Erotic neural zones can taste
sweetness and flour, baker's yeast

Swelling puffs of pastry rise
filled by self inflating ghosts
who send telepathic notes
to anxious waiting taste buds

"Eat me, eat me, and don’t forget to swallow
Lick the fresh cream dairy glaze
smeared so thickly around the holes"

And it’s okay to nibble the ends
of the vanilla-iced chocolate eclairs
if all you want is a taste of its cream
But should the desire arise, feel free
to grab it and swallow in two bites

My weakness is a simple cake
Baklava, I kneel at your baker's feet
It’s Greek, I think, and has layers of nuts
and honey and thinnest phyllo dough
just the sight makes me gain 5 pounds

I love to separate the layers
One at a time with the tip of my tongue
digging out pieces of nuts and cake
savoring each bit as it enters my mouth
I can feel their bakery bonds escape
They scatter and invade me!
Carbohydrate orgasm imminent!

Head tilted back, I swallow and wait
for those magical pastries to release
unprocessed granules of endorphins
Natural, legal, organic narcotics
That can ease almost any
Premenstrual Pain!

8/28/03

~~~~
Oh, So Tempting

New York Cheesecake raspberry swirled
freshly made donuts and bagels
Essences of food, life in their molecules
float throughout the bakery

Scents exude their sensual summons
irresistible to us humans
Erotic neural zones can taste
sweetness and flour, baker's yeast

Swelling puffs of pastry rise
filled by self inflating ghosts
who send telepathic notes
to anxious waiting taste buds

"Eat me, eat me, and don’t forget to swallow
Lick the fresh cream dairy glaze
smeared so thickly around the holes"

And it’s alright to nibble the ends
of vanilla-iced chocolate eclairs
if all you want is a taste of its cream,
But should the desire arise, feel free
to grab it and swallow in two bites

My weakness is a simple cake
Baklava, I kneel at your baker's feet
It’s Greek, and has layers of nuts
honey and thinnest phyllo dough

I love to separate the layers
One at a time with the tip of my tongue
digging out pieces of nuts and cake
savoring each bit as it enters my mouth
I can feel their bakery bonds escape
They scatter and invade me!
Carbohydrate orgasm imminent!

Head tilted back, I swallow and wait
for those magical pastries to release
unprocessed granules of endorphins
Natural, legal, organic narcotics
That can ease almost any pain!

 

[normal jean]

I am so homesick it is ridiculous. Maybe some day I will be able to write about it but for now I am just too deep in. I sit on the bleachers at my son's baseball game and I see the grandmothers and aunts and cousins, cheering. I see circles around children. Those circles are all that matters and I have taken my children so far from ours. Thank god we have made friends and they let me borrow their mothers to hold my baby.

I sat in church today with two of my three boys and they both fell asleep, one on my breast, one on my arm. I remember the pews in which my uncles and aunts sat in my church. How mother would point out this family and that, tell us how we were related, how she played with that woman over there when she was a little girl on the farm. I remember how my mother told us of our exile numbers, and charted from Levi to Balthasar, Abraham, Christopher, George, all the way back to Silesia, all the way back to the journey across the sea.

But there we sat today, alone in a congregation, none of whom have our blood in their veins, none of whom knew me as anything else than what I am today. No one who stood in front of god and congregation and swore swore swore to be there for this new baby girl and her family. To be there.

Well, they are there.
It is me who is not.

I know I am selfish and I should not complain. but it is just what it is and we have each other. We sit close. We smile and hope people smile back and invite us into their world already established. I never thought I would be one of the new people. But here I am.

And the creeks here are nothing like the northeast. I do have a friend from Oregon who told me of a state park about an hour from here. She told me Jennifer, it is the closest thing I have been to home.... pine trees, tall pine trees and ferns, ferns.... she stretched her hands over the ground, as if it were a miracle. The wind, you could hear it in the tops of the trees...

Dear sweet Anna

Darling, You are not selfish, not at all. It is a state of being, the desire we humans have felt since we were created, to have the company of those who are "related" to us, to have them around us.

I wish so much that I could just pop over there like Jeannie and give you a monster hug. You are such a gifted poet, a kind person, loving mother. It hurts to think of you in pain, but you are so strong, you radiate strength and beauty and always have, since your day one here when you messaged me about that poem, Feeding the Winter Solstice."

If I could give you that poem, I would. You give so much. And, those people who have yet to welcome you into their homes and church, well, they are missing out. Just wanted yo to know how much you are truly loved an dhope that it helps in even such a tiny way. you ARE loved.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

yesterday #11

untitled

As all things gleam and all is silent late at night
while I return from walking paths the deer have found,
The soft fields fall in shadow green and gray, around
The circle where I walk alone in fading light,
And like a thousand times before, the door
which once held my delight
Now opens darkly onto this, our common ground
Empty of Rain.

It's peaceful here, the house whose emptiness
we cannot fight
The silence of the air in which we nearly drowned.
Not here, at home with us, but in a distant mound
You clothe yourself in stones and leave this house,
though bright,
Empty of Rain.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

today #12

Sleep

This moon
shines through diamonds
onto your sleeping form
As awake I watch the crescent
setting.

The breath
as it goes and
comes, resists its ending
yet in each cycle, with each pause
Death lives.

 

[Angeline]

Mermaid

Once there was longing
in watery secrets, sunk deep
among anemones and coral
where urchins float weightless
and castles are lustrous
albalone spires. Endless moats
flow turquoise, emerald, sapphire.
Endless treasure abounds
but rain is blue when Sun is cold,
a distant amethyst reflection.

There is longing where no birds
herald morning, no leaves
promise seasons, no bees
sing worksongs to flowers.
What do stars mean
in a murky world?
What is sky?

When I could acquiesce
no more I dreamt of sweet grass
that tickles toes, of Sun
warmed flesh that's mine. I dared
to dream on seafoam clouds,
and so I wished upon a starfish
to walk with legs on moving feet
sunk in the loamy earth.

I dared to dream of smoke and sand,
of paths that lead beyond the dunes.
I had listened so long to empty shells.
I pledged to walk away from all
familiarity knowing I'd bleed
regret but harboring delight I walked
caught in a twilight pain of loss
and freedom, I moved forward.

I walked.

This is how I journeyed
to another world
to save a dying prince.
Air stirred my hair,
the wide still sky cradled me.
I saw bright rooms,
I knew candlelight,
was warmed by fire.

And I must tell you
every step hurts.
I did not know direction,
everything apparent shifted,
but there are new latitudes
flung to oxygen, spun in polarity,
I am distant and dissimilar.

Now I dance.

My prince loves me.
He puts his trust in my hands.,
shows me his weeping heart. I try
to protect it. I try to protect my own.

To live without a voice
is not to live. To be undiscovered
is being and unbeing. I will be
foam gathered at the shore,
carried with the waves. Read
my story before it washes
from the sand.