January 12, 2010
After reading something beautiful the past couple of days, I decided I should try and write some slower poetry, with more focus on each word carrying a lot of meaning. I also wanna be able to use (but not necessarily stop using) words I love to use and use all the time, so none of the following allowed for the following five days of poetic practice: World, Love, Gentle, Dream, Horizon, City, and Wanderlust. (Strange of me, you say? Poetry might be limitless, but it isn’t until you feel around for the glass limits that are already there.) So! Here’s one:
Song of a Wary Monster
None shall look to you for beauty
But there is screeching art
Like churning silk
Curling beneath your wingspan
None shall seek your solace
But the deep gaze
Of your flattened eyes
Only looks to embrace
None shall run to you
And yet you would sprint
Across Earth to no end
If you could not destroy
A thousand by feet
To reach a single friend.
None see your goodness
And yet, if they would listen
They could hear the booming of your heart
They could hear your bellowing,
Knowing it is not crafted from anger
But from weighted, lofted longing
“Precipice” (hat tip: Lil’ Bollin’) Plus “Underneath” (hat tip: Google search for precipice) Equals:
January 7, 2010
Worlds! Worlds beneath the edge of your grounded vision and yet your fingers try to cling to flat earth–they cannot!
Is the pinning safety of a sky-blanket so soothing? Is gravity so severe a fear? Have you forgotten your leap?
Your worries may run rampant–apparently they sap your energy to sprint in like,
But know: Horizons are not won by throwing a rope over the precipice!
Can you hear me down here, your estranged echo?
I am beneath you, flying in faith,
Yelling in curvature.
(Dunno if I like this or not. Kinda didactic. I enjoy the last line, at least.)
December 29, 2009
So I oneword-ed today and got “birdhouse”:
Jail being a “birdhouse”
Does that mean that prisoners can fly?
Does that mean that they can sing?
(Though I have no idea why.)
And liked it decent and didn’t get much out of the word besides, so I looked at other people’s entries for birdhouse and found:
“Bad word followed by another and yet an other. What complete nonsense.” (Hat tip: TiganMurda)
Which is much more fun and made me write this weird rhythm psuedo-Alice in Wonderland knockoff:
Another, another, another! These words wander aimlessly despite even rows,
Hustling along through meaningless space, enduring no ends! Oh, but a line ends,
Does it not? And a poem ends, at least not accounting for a reader’s thought!
But you’ll have no end as such yet–No, words are not done with you,
Though you may do away with them. Go on, stop! Defy your eyes from this page,
You should find yourself hardly in a position of power, for these lines do exist
Far past your life’s in like! The poem means no evil, friend, in knowing it will outlast you,
Knowing it can grow and frolic unending in new childrens’ minds; you may well be immortal with it,
For its gloating is only known through the eyes of your own thinking eyes!
December 23, 2009
And then I did this: (Kinda rough, might touch it up some and lengthen it later. I like it, though.)
Hands of horror! The stricken man knows not the world
That holds him so fearfully in the grasp of their minds,
For what could be known but such unnatural curvature,
Staggeringly jagged, beautiful if made by man
But not when partly man himself! “Know your home!”, they screech!
“Find your way to a refinery! Know smoke, know fire!”
If he could cover up his face with hands he would,
And yet he is indestructible but by feelings.
He takes their stones better–harsher things, words,
They may well be cast in steel. He once raised a hand to quell them.
It seemed like he had just halfway uncurled a fist,
But eternally held in the position. They opposed his cling to life with horror.
O! If only you could be a noble statue to be beheld!
He has wished many times for his fingers to be burnt, melted,
And then molded to hold another close–
But then he thinks on the pain of heat for them, and like times before,
Knows the sadness of walls.
December 22, 2009
Because I’ve been bad about updating during finals the past couple of weeks, here’s a few short poems, too. I went to oneword.com and got the word “wallpaper”, and in sixty seconds wrote this:
There’s nothing left
But the wallpaper
I couldn’t rip away
Even the walls have deserted us
But I didn’t love it and thought it was kinda depressing, so I wrote a couple more. Here’s one in meter:
Keep on Readin’ on?
November 29, 2009
(Falls a little short, but eh! Fun to write.)
There lives a creature in Karimakoo,
Where the Grinkles eat grapleleaves and honeydew
And the Crickleups frolick all night and all day,
But this poor creature, the Grumplelump, does not get to play,
Instead, he sleeps sadly, all forlorn and upcurled,
For on his back sits the rest of the world.
August 17, 2009
This one’s new, just written (and performed!) today. I still don’t know what to call these things–“these things” being the poems that stem from the style of “Have You Ever Sung The Moon?” Moonpoems? Jazzpoems? I’ll figure it out. For now, here’s another one, still a little rough but I’m happy with it. Sorry for that one stage instruction in italics there; kinda random but I thought it was worth the oddness to keep it in the written version of the piece. This one’s also a lot less sing-songy than “Moon,” though there’s still some rhythm here and there.
For memory’s posterity: Man, when I read this at javamonkey tonight… damn. Scared senseless but I was really, really happy with the response. I mean, I walked up there looking scared out of my wits, told people it was my first open mic ever, and they immediately cheered me on. Such a damn good crowd! Gonna remember that place. Plus, one of my favorite local poets I’ve seen around here was beaming at me during and afterwards my piece. Such a good night!
July 23, 2009
A(nother) poem. This one’s from late last year, and is a lot of the reason my poetry started getting decent. There’s a fun and fairly lengthy story behind it, too, though I’d probably just mention that I wrote it for a jazz literature class. This is also one of the few poems I have that I feel sounds pretty good out loud–I considered recording myself reading it and putting it up here instead, but I think I’d like to make myself write something new in this style with the intent of reading it on here, since I haven’t really written anything like it recently. Little incentives, man.
Anyway! Click here to read it! It is a .doc file, which I realize is a little bit annoying, but the poem has a lot of weird formatting stuff and it’s pretty long, so it’s probably for the best. Worth the trouble, I promise! It’s probably one of the more original poems I’ve written, I think.
July 21, 2009
My internet is being a drama queen and a jerkface, so for the sake of updating on my phone I’m gonna try to make this one short and quality. So… Self-imposed poem challenge!: Ten lines or less, twenty-five words or less, and on the topic of, uh… [quick glance at books in apartment] …”Castle!”
With further faith
In older sayings,
As if skies and dreams
Come closer in parallel.