Daily Archives: September 18, 2013

Flashback to Forms: Poetry


I did some poet-ing before I stopped believing in it.  Here are some examples:

Autumn Smile (Pantoum)

Was it more than an autumn smile
from across the glittering asphalt?
The hard black distance between us
a barrier like a diamond.

From across the glittering asphalt
I saw your fingers curl inside
a barrier like a diamond.
The dull ache in my chest began.

I saw your fingers curl inside
months later in the dark of my car.
The dull ache in my chest began
to fade, like the world through our breath.

Months later in the dark of my car,
I wrote 2-27 there
to fade like the world through our breath,
to remember your lips on my neck.

I wrote 2-27 there
above the daffodil you left
to remember your lips on my neck
before you crept back through wet leaves.

Above the daffodil you left,
you promised a glimpse of sunshine.
Before you crept back through wet leaves,
you held me inside a diamond.

You promised a glimpse of sunshine
to crack the hard black distance between.
So you held me like a diamond, so I knew
it was more than an autumn smile.

Drought, Clyde, Ohio, 1988 (Villanelle)

 “You must ask for forgiveness,”
Crowdog said on his knees.
The sky mourned in emptiness.

Christians refused to confess.
And Crowdog begged them, “Please,
you must ask for forgiveness.”

The fields were brown, the grassless
dirt swirling in the breeze.
The sky mourned in emptiness.

They stared at Crowdog’s headdress,
more ample than the leaves.
You must ask for forgiveness.

Rain dance, a last resort to the stress
of begging the sky to free
the rain, mourned in emptiness.

Crowdog urged them to confess
their sins, to bow and plead.
“You must ask for forgiveness,
for the sky mourns your emptiness.”

Together (Iambic Pentameter)

You bathed in blue each night the lights went down,
the orange already stolen from the sky.
Your windows, melted squares in the flickering
fire you cast from your fingers melting wire
to bond the glitzy tubes together now.
The hollow frame, a shadow cast of you
across the pegboard walls of your garage.
No more than silhouette among the sparks
of union we could never form, a warmth
that never held between your hands and mine.

Factory (Terza Rima)

They hold the handles between their fingers
and enter the turnstiles with a steady click,
a heartbeat, glass-like echo, it lingers.

The metal hands with shining claws will stick
to jackets, neck scarves and even the skin,
the lick, the bite, the over melodic tick.

An eight hour sentence warns, “Do not come in,”
and still they saunter forward to the door.
The steam stacks snarl with a melted plastic chin.

Missed Kiss (Syllabics)

Six times I tried to kiss
your pomegranate lips,
your rosebud fingertips.
You moved and made me miss.
Six times, just by an inch,
the air between us ripped,
hiding the kiss in crypt,
hiding eyes in a flinch.
I wondered of seven,
put eight, nine on the list,
but no hopes of a tryst.
Maybe with eleven.


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Posted by on September 18, 2013 in Daily Happenings