Because Alice Insisted

No, it's not a poem.

But it's a sign of life, at least.

Hello! I'm still here.

Frankly, I grow bored of my brain at times. I haven't done anything slightly interesting in my classroom during the entire month of May. I wrote my first poem in twenty days last night. It was horrific. Even my darling, wonderful daughter fails to be worthy of a blog post.

So.

I'm still here. I'm writing horrible poetry again. And I'll post something Sunday night.

Consider yourself warned.

Poem of the Week

A Day Without Poetry
May 2, 2008

The sun stumbled over the horizon.
It did not arc gracefully like a swan,
it slouched into the sky like a sullen teenager.

Early morning breezes ruffled the flowers,
but their perfume sparked no synapses.
Birds’ songs were singularly unmusical.

When people spoke, they said exactly
what they meant. They left not an inch
for doubt, for miscommunication. For flirting.

Lovers did not hold hands on the
day without poetry. Sweet nothings
dried on the tongue, unwhispered.

And that night, the constellations spun no
stories in the sky. The stars sat stiffly against
a black backdrop like nothing more than stars.

If You Came Here Looking for a Poem ...

... come back Sunday. Sorry. ;)

April in Review:
Days: 30
Poems Written: 31 (?!?!)
Poems So Bad I Had to Write an Extra One as an Apology: 1
Poems Posted: 31
Poems I Like: 20 (but I'll never say which ones)

And for the Year:
Days: 121
Poems: 88
Poems I Like: 58.5

Whew!

As Useful
April 30, 2008

I like to think of myself as useful.
I can cook a meal, wash a dish –
even swing a hammer if I have to.
I’m a good friend, a good listener,
an adequate scrabble partner,
and I’ll play (off) rhythm guitar
if you’ll play lead.

But for the past seven days
I have been greeted every morning
by a slowly blooming azalea,
shyly uncurling her petals,
coyly dressing green limbs in pink.
For another seven days, she will
dance like a sunset and then fade.
Yes, she neither works nor spins,
and I’ll do even less. I will be a
witness, nothing more.

Every morning for the last seven days,
and every morning for the next seven,
I will be reminded that, useful though
I may be, I am certainly not essential.

Gravity

In Science class they talk about gravity
as if it were a constant, as if life weighed
the same at a wedding as it does at a
funeral. They’ve even invented a
formula to prove they’re right.

Let them crunch numbers all they like,
everybody knows a quarter pound of beef
weighs more when you’re hungry,
and when the world feels gray, eating
ice cream takes off the weight. Feet,
of course, are heavier walking on sidewalks
than strolling in sand. And a heart in love,
we know, is lighter than a heart forlorn.

Trust me. I’m a poet.
I’ve got the formula to prove it.

Gifts

• One poem from a man who loves me
• A new display of my photographs which I never make the time to print or display
• A lock of hair "for you to remember me by when I move out" in a treasure box decorated in primo six-year-old style (move out? can I come with?) (oh, and please stop cutting your hair. She says she enjoys the feel of the scissors cutting hair. I must admit, I agree with her.)
• A collection of poetry from a budding poet (this was in the works evenings for over a month)

• and... a late afternoon delivery on a somewhat sunny day of a decaf iced Americano. Ahhhh.

I couldn't ask for more. Ed tells me that he has plans for a purchased gift but the first time he went to the store, he didn't make it in time for its limited hours and when he did make it, they didn't have whatever it was.

It doesn't matter though. These are exactly the gifts I needed.

A Blessing

Lord,
let my life be filled
with wonderful things,
like the magical
arrival of a goldfish
into a housecat’s home.

And Lord,
let me live with the
patience of my cat,
who can watch her pet
fish for hours on end –
eager, hungry, and amazed.

Happy Birthday, Boo'ful!

ways to say i love you
january 26, 2008

words, i suppose, would do
in poetry or song,
or in red sharpie on a bathroom stall

or flowers, perhaps, might work
hearty bulbs or fragile orchids,
maybe fiery roses, carefully shorn of thorns

some people speak in gesture
three quick squeezes or a pat on the bum,
a long, slow kiss, lazy as a summer afternoon

but the best way to say i love you
yes, the best way to say i love you,
is with tiramisu,

unasked for and unsuspected,
on a not quite icy january night.