The north wind gasps in
the wee hours as
pipes play and ghosts dance
across the coast highway, wreaking havoc.
Naani is one of Indian's most popular Telugu poems. Naani means an expression of one and all.
It consists of 4 lines, the total lines consists of 20 to 25 syllables. The poem is not bounded to
a particular subject. Generally it depends upon human relations and current statements
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Wishful Thinking
Wishful thinking
is something we adopt
a bright idea that comes at the worst possible time
and stays long after its welcome is worn out
like an old pair of garden gloves
with holes in the fingers
comfortable, but they no longer
do the job.
Unable to let them go
you then
try to fix them,
when one surely disappears
you convince yourself that sooner or later it will turn up
and everything will work out, but it never does.
Not until long after
you’ve thrown its mate into the trash
and it’s been hauled away
by that giant yellow truck
reeking of dead fish and stale beer.
is something we adopt
a bright idea that comes at the worst possible time
and stays long after its welcome is worn out
like an old pair of garden gloves
with holes in the fingers
comfortable, but they no longer
do the job.
Unable to let them go
you then
try to fix them,
when one surely disappears
you convince yourself that sooner or later it will turn up
and everything will work out, but it never does.
Not until long after
you’ve thrown its mate into the trash
and it’s been hauled away
by that giant yellow truck
reeking of dead fish and stale beer.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Mask
MASK
death mask
preserved age
displayed in Cairo
enameled gold and gems
guarded the soul from evil
guarded the soul from evil
“Egyptian clay mask remedy”
Pedicure
Feet
soak in
tepid swirl
nails clipped, shaped, filed.
Cuticles pushed back
calluses shaved, feet scrubbed.
Moisturizer massaged deep
into toes and calves up to knees
energizing tired feet and legs.
Red nail bed summons white hibiscus sketch.
soak in
tepid swirl
nails clipped, shaped, filed.
Cuticles pushed back
calluses shaved, feet scrubbed.
Moisturizer massaged deep
into toes and calves up to knees
energizing tired feet and legs.
Red nail bed summons white hibiscus sketch.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Confessions of a Pioneer Woman
My name is Gert
my corset hurts
my hair is fine
wrapped tight with twine.
My day begins
before the sun
with cows to milk
and chores a ton
My husband died
from the grippe
left me
six kids
and a buffalo chip.
The banker said
his last check bounced
across the prairie
unannounced
I’m good at sewing
can make a mean pie
spin a tall yarn
look you dead
in the eye.
I’ll groom your horse
keep the home fires
burning
just get me out
of this
butter churning.
my corset hurts
my hair is fine
wrapped tight with twine.
My day begins
before the sun
with cows to milk
and chores a ton
My husband died
from the grippe
left me
six kids
and a buffalo chip.
The banker said
his last check bounced
across the prairie
unannounced
I’m good at sewing
can make a mean pie
spin a tall yarn
look you dead
in the eye.
I’ll groom your horse
keep the home fires
burning
just get me out
of this
butter churning.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
You Might Be a Poet
1. If you have ten or more poetry books or your nightstand in various stages of being read
You might be a poet
2. If you have wallpapered your bathroom with rejection notices
You might be a poet
3. If you wake up in the middle of the night to write down an interesting word or phrase
You might be a poet
4. If you carry a small notepad in your pocket or purse and a fancy pen
You might be a poet
5. If you have heard of Ted Kooser or W.S. Merwin and know what they have been recognized for
You might be a poet
6. If you write a poem a day for fifteen months straight
You might be a poet
7. If you go to poetry readings held by someone called the Poetry Pope
You might be a poet
8. If you write grocery lists and what you are packing for a trip, in an ABCdarian
You might be a poet
9. If you understand what a clarity pyramid is
You might be a poet
10. If you like writing by a strict set of rules but can’t find the top of your desk
You might be a poet
11. If you spend all day tweaking a poem that’s already finished
You might be a poet
12. If you have been coming to Lillian’s classes for four or more years or have been published in
The Rain Bird
You might be a poet.
You might be a poet
2. If you have wallpapered your bathroom with rejection notices
You might be a poet
3. If you wake up in the middle of the night to write down an interesting word or phrase
You might be a poet
4. If you carry a small notepad in your pocket or purse and a fancy pen
You might be a poet
5. If you have heard of Ted Kooser or W.S. Merwin and know what they have been recognized for
You might be a poet
6. If you write a poem a day for fifteen months straight
You might be a poet
7. If you go to poetry readings held by someone called the Poetry Pope
You might be a poet
8. If you write grocery lists and what you are packing for a trip, in an ABCdarian
You might be a poet
9. If you understand what a clarity pyramid is
You might be a poet
10. If you like writing by a strict set of rules but can’t find the top of your desk
You might be a poet
11. If you spend all day tweaking a poem that’s already finished
You might be a poet
12. If you have been coming to Lillian’s classes for four or more years or have been published in
The Rain Bird
You might be a poet.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The Legend of Nalo Man
***Nalo means lost in Hawaiian
Mana is spirit or power
Haumea and Wakea are ancient gods; Laka is their daughter, the goddess of hula.
Akepa: is a scarlet or yellow-green hawaiian honeycreeper
Last night he dreamt again of the past.
the answer disappears with the finches
when he wakes
under his mystical banyan
in Kalihi Valley.
The tree that he knew
as a child
which shows him its mana
in the howl of the damp
in the leaves
whispering her name
combing-out memories
tangled within their dark stillness.
Coarse roots stretching back
to the time of
Wakea and Haumea.
A goddess born from Haumea’s eye
Kapo has many names
one is Laka.
Laka can be seen
as a lizard or
a human.
Her chants
awaken
the old spirits.
He is blinded
afraid of her truth
a truth that haunts his stirring dreams.
He knows that
the stones of life
by the spouting waters
can heal him
from her intrusion
but he is lost.
Wandering alone
as he seeks the old path
that the kahuna spoke of
long overgrown and forgotten.
He remembers
that the words to her song
guide the way
but they are as faint as the stars
in the tropical sun
invisible
in his frantic mind.
He bargains with her for the key
but the guardian
taunts him
detecting his weakness
for drink
and keeps his path
shrouded in darkness.
Countless moons wax and wane
as flocks of mischievous Akepa
gather leaves and weave seed leis
within the coarse black strands
of his lengthening beard
as he sleeps
at night
between the broad roots at the
foot of the banyan
its thick branches
shielding him
from her wiles
as he fitfully rests
inside their sway.
Mana is spirit or power
Haumea and Wakea are ancient gods; Laka is their daughter, the goddess of hula.
Akepa: is a scarlet or yellow-green hawaiian honeycreeper
Last night he dreamt again of the past.
the answer disappears with the finches
when he wakes
under his mystical banyan
in Kalihi Valley.
The tree that he knew
as a child
which shows him its mana
in the howl of the damp
in the leaves
whispering her name
combing-out memories
tangled within their dark stillness.
Coarse roots stretching back
to the time of
Wakea and Haumea.
A goddess born from Haumea’s eye
Kapo has many names
one is Laka.
Laka can be seen
as a lizard or
a human.
Her chants
awaken
the old spirits.
He is blinded
afraid of her truth
a truth that haunts his stirring dreams.
He knows that
the stones of life
by the spouting waters
can heal him
from her intrusion
but he is lost.
Wandering alone
as he seeks the old path
that the kahuna spoke of
long overgrown and forgotten.
He remembers
that the words to her song
guide the way
but they are as faint as the stars
in the tropical sun
invisible
in his frantic mind.
He bargains with her for the key
but the guardian
taunts him
detecting his weakness
for drink
and keeps his path
shrouded in darkness.
Countless moons wax and wane
as flocks of mischievous Akepa
gather leaves and weave seed leis
within the coarse black strands
of his lengthening beard
as he sleeps
at night
between the broad roots at the
foot of the banyan
its thick branches
shielding him
from her wiles
as he fitfully rests
inside their sway.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
A Poet Lives Here
A
Pithy
Observant
Evocative
Tattler
Lassoes
Images, and for a
Voluble show of approval will
Enlist
Spell-checker, cliché
Half-truths
Euphemisms
Rambles, rants and
Eminent domain.
Pithy
Observant
Evocative
Tattler
Lassoes
Images, and for a
Voluble show of approval will
Enlist
Spell-checker, cliché
Half-truths
Euphemisms
Rambles, rants and
Eminent domain.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Pricing Philosophy
I am GOD of my section
omnipresent
directing the flow
making the ultimate decisions
as to what stays
what goes
how much to charge
how little
which polished newcomers
get an all access pass
to Bill’s Bookmobile
which ones go on to the prisons
and hospitals
And what inevitably gets called home
to heaven
the tired,
marked up
mildewed,
highlighted ones
with post-its stuck
in irretrievable places
spoiled and unsalable.
Hell has to wait
its turn after
a dissertation on morality
even bullshit
endures my scrutiny
green in my omniscience.
The list
of human
speculation
is endless
in fact
stacks of them
keep petitioning
for another audience
hoping
for a different outcome.
Love
my favorite
usually ends up
at the top of the pile
since I am
GOD
and GOD is love
and well
because I said so!
omnipresent
directing the flow
making the ultimate decisions
as to what stays
what goes
how much to charge
how little
which polished newcomers
get an all access pass
to Bill’s Bookmobile
which ones go on to the prisons
and hospitals
And what inevitably gets called home
to heaven
the tired,
marked up
mildewed,
highlighted ones
with post-its stuck
in irretrievable places
spoiled and unsalable.
Hell has to wait
its turn after
a dissertation on morality
even bullshit
endures my scrutiny
green in my omniscience.
The list
of human
speculation
is endless
in fact
stacks of them
keep petitioning
for another audience
hoping
for a different outcome.
Love
my favorite
usually ends up
at the top of the pile
since I am
GOD
and GOD is love
and well
because I said so!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
I Touched Death 15.25
I touched death’s icy hand
and peeled back my crying skin
glued on
with false hope
safety pinned with lies.
This couldn’t be him
who
had captured my heart
cradled me in his hot embrace
searing, empty promises.
This wasn’t him, in this shiny black casket
in this frozen parlor.
This was a wax mannequin
an empty shell
pumped full
of foul juices
preserved like the frogs
ready for dissection
in 10th grade biology
I was dreaming.
My fingers touched his
hard and fixed
his death mask
distorted smile
carefully dressed in a suit.
I thirsted for his affection
slit without warning
on that dark haunted road
black as a tar
black as a bottomless well
yearning for the splash.
Frozen screams
skated across the green bog
trapped
beneath thick black ice
fists hammering an opaque ceiling
tagged and trapped in the horror zone
waiting for some sign
that I could still see him.
Shredded like a rag doll
sliced by hot steel
by a drunken monster in a black Cadillac
blood drained,
organs extracted
at no extra charge.
Waiting for one last damp kiss
before his appointment
with Mr. Grim.
and peeled back my crying skin
glued on
with false hope
safety pinned with lies.
This couldn’t be him
who
had captured my heart
cradled me in his hot embrace
searing, empty promises.
This wasn’t him, in this shiny black casket
in this frozen parlor.
This was a wax mannequin
an empty shell
pumped full
of foul juices
preserved like the frogs
ready for dissection
in 10th grade biology
I was dreaming.
My fingers touched his
hard and fixed
his death mask
distorted smile
carefully dressed in a suit.
I thirsted for his affection
slit without warning
on that dark haunted road
black as a tar
black as a bottomless well
yearning for the splash.
Frozen screams
skated across the green bog
trapped
beneath thick black ice
fists hammering an opaque ceiling
tagged and trapped in the horror zone
waiting for some sign
that I could still see him.
Shredded like a rag doll
sliced by hot steel
by a drunken monster in a black Cadillac
blood drained,
organs extracted
at no extra charge.
Waiting for one last damp kiss
before his appointment
with Mr. Grim.
Las Vegas 15.24
City of sin, din
sights and lights.
City of luck
Mega bucks
cherry red lips
Chicken Ranch hips.
City of lost wages
redeemed savers
wedding chapels and
venture capital.
City to lose
drink too much booze
rack up coins
wolf tenderloin.
A city with eyes
cameras up high
and Cirque shows every night
while gorgeous show girls
show off their girls
and Criss Angel levitates
breathing deep in a red rock scape.
A city of slots, high rollers, big shots
musical fountains and Roman art
River pools, sidewalk misters
Shopping malls, iconic vistas.
Where dry heat is a relative term
as flamingos drip on a Venetian urn.
And tourists leave last dollars
in Wheel of Fortune slots
shouting
honey come quick, I’ve won the jackpot!!
sights and lights.
City of luck
Mega bucks
cherry red lips
Chicken Ranch hips.
City of lost wages
redeemed savers
wedding chapels and
venture capital.
City to lose
drink too much booze
rack up coins
wolf tenderloin.
A city with eyes
cameras up high
and Cirque shows every night
while gorgeous show girls
show off their girls
and Criss Angel levitates
breathing deep in a red rock scape.
A city of slots, high rollers, big shots
musical fountains and Roman art
River pools, sidewalk misters
Shopping malls, iconic vistas.
Where dry heat is a relative term
as flamingos drip on a Venetian urn.
And tourists leave last dollars
in Wheel of Fortune slots
shouting
honey come quick, I’ve won the jackpot!!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Overindulgence 15.19
Spoiled
myopic youth
neglects his teeth.
Gummy candy
belly and
devouring habits
dentist’s dream.
myopic youth
neglects his teeth.
Gummy candy
belly and
devouring habits
dentist’s dream.
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