Friday, April 29, 2016

Found Poem...(National Poetry Month #29)

Today's poem was a total experiment in a new form. Found poetry.

It's where you take a printed page and find a poem in the words.

I liked the idea and wanted to give it a try sometime this month. And well, since we are almost out of month I decided today would be the day.

Well then came the other challenge. What printed page? And I got the brilliant (HA!) idea of using Donald Trump's recent foreign policy speech. I mean, come on, that would be outstanding!

Except it was really hard. He repeats words. A lot. He leaves out common usage words that make things flow. And it was on foreign policy so it wasn't all too poetic to start with. But being stubborn I soldiered on. Soldiered...through the foreign policy...ha!

Then came another challenge. In a lot of found poetry people draw these great pictures or doodles around the words. Well, I am not artistic in that way. So how do I get them to stand out? I came up with something that works, I think. But that led to the next challenge.

How do I post it on this blog?

I settled for a scan of the original document and we will now see if I can get that to paste in here...


If you click the picture it will get a little larger. I also translated it here for you:

Speak to the randomness
chaos and visions
the timeless theme.
Forward...back...
Then we heed history;
after a time.
Less foolishness and arrogance
After mistakes.
Grow the idea.
Experience surprise.
Lives complete.
Vision. Purpose. Direction.
Today.

Not so great of a poem, but a really great challenge. 

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Quick! (National Poetry Month #28)

Oh Fuck (I shouldn't curse)
But I forgot to write my verse
It's 4 O'clock where to begin?
To skip a day would be a sin.
I was so focused on the sonnet
Just like a bee inside my bonnet
That when I scratched that impossible itch
I forgot three more days were in this bitch
But under the wire I will perform
Just like a rhyme tornado, a perfect storm.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Sonnet for my Father...(National Poetry Month #27)


Don't ever confuse my meekness for mild.
Or think when I am quiet you have won.
For I will always be my father's child.
The youngest of his daughters and his sons.

I was much smaller than the rest of them
But my father never changed his firm stance
Determination, not size, brings the win.
What is your plan? You can't leave it to chance.

When he imagined a thing, he made it.
Clever hands bringing forth an invention.
Solving a problem, not throwing a fit,
See the issue, you must pay attention.

So now when the world is lost in its rage,
I pause. Stop. Then I put words on this page.


Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Small bites....(National Poetry Month #26)

I thought
 I would be a chapter
 in the story of your life;
 turns out I was just a bookmark. 

......................

Why are all the books about romance
And all of the poems about heartbreak?

We all think we want that story
But we've all written that poem.



...................


She looked in to his eyes
And saw herself
Reflected in his love
And she was beautiful


................





Monday, April 25, 2016

Monday haiku and explanation...(National Poetry Month #25)

Cold knife edge cuts deep
Ghosts of the past are restless
Winter wind chills me.

Water like clear glass
Reflecting emerald trees
Topsy turvy world.

Water falls into pools
While the tears fall down my face
Swimming with heartbreak

Okay so these three are just for a friend who felt my mathiku didn't count as true haiku. And in one way he is right. Traditional haiku is about seasons or nature. It's also 100 stanzas long and in Japanese so... But modern haiku is more fluid. A moment in time captured in verse. I don't follow many rules in anything I do. For me pseudohaiku is the best haiku. It makes me pare down a story to not much more than a thought. But here are a few that might satisfy my friend a little more.  At least the first two. They are season, then nature, the last being nature and emotion but much loser than the first two in connection.  

But my main reason for making this post is to emphasize that poetry should be yours. I know a lot of them have rules and structure and it's why I've been struggling with writing a good sonnet, or something in iambic pentameter. To first find an idea, then to find the words, then to fit it in to a prescribed form? So much work. So I generally don't do that. I play with words, with the pattern of the lines, with the shape and feel of the sounds in my head and in my mouth when I read them out loud. And what I really want you to take as you read a poem, any poem, not just my bad poetry, is to take what you want out of it. Who cares if the structure is off? Who cares if it follows no form? Who cares what the author meant when they wrote it? Who cares what it is supposed to REALLY mean? What does it mean to you? What do you take from it? Even if it's nothing more than a word you like the sound of, or an image that makes you pause, that's good. That's what it's there for. 

Or at least that is the way I think about it. So now you understand why I don't get really worked up about following a stricter format. Or a traditional pattern. I am not going to be mad at you for pointing it out. But I'm also not likely to change my ways. Expect more pseudohaiku than structured. Expect prose written in passive voice. Expect the hero to not be all that likable. And then expect me to change all of that when I think you are expecting things to go a certain way. That's the poetry of life...





Sunday, April 24, 2016

Sunday Haiku...(National Poetry Month #24)

Sunday haiku day
The last Sunday in April
Aren't you so relieved?

Counting on fingers
Trying to find a rhythm
Math poems are fun.

Thoughts on iambic
A sonnet that alludes me
Makes haiku comfort

Cobwebs cleared out
Or at least begging for prose
Poetry month win?




Saturday, April 23, 2016

Quick updated nursery rhyme...(National Poetry Month #23)

Sugar and spice

Barbie Dream House
With a die cast Chevy parked in back

Perfectly manicured toes
On muddy feet

And just a touch of vice

A welcoming smile, a comforting hug
A touch of "suck it up, sunshine"

A wave hello
A middle finger salute

Quips and tales

A warm cup of tea
A stiff shot of tequila

A 100 ways to say I love you
And as many more to say fuck off

And successes and fails

Kisses and hugs
Tears and shouts

Love deeper than an ocean
A temper hotter than the sun

This is what women are made of.