the last chapter
is a bittersweet one
so good to be done,
like bringing something to life
but it also means
our time is over
and the story is done
(except, of course,
for the revisions,
revisions,
revisions)
(originally posted June 3, 2009…when finishing up Still Sucks to Be Me)
Here it is
the end of the day
and me,
all poem-less–
like a song
without rhythm,
a rhyme
without reason,
a picture
with no one to see it.
And there you go.
(originally posted June 4th, 2009)
(originally posted on July 16, 2009, over on Facebook)
I’m always getting
some song
rambling around drunk in my head
like that last party guest
you just can’t get to leave
and, oh, it’s always the one
with the bad taste
and the terrible stories
about that wonderful trip they took
to Boston that one year
when the weather went so crazy
and the swans all froze
you know that song
that’s the one
the one yah, yah, yah
that stays with you all day
and just won’t leave
and there I am again
humming along
no doubt annoying
anyone else who comes along
(originally posted on Oct 15, 2009, over on Facebook)
I haven’t written a poem down in months
(though before that,
years — let’s be honest;
I am a poet of little stamina
and only the barest of intentions)
even though rare bits of
mismatched stanzas and
utter silliness
drift through my mind
at the strangest times
but always,
always
without a pen to be found.
Had a nice one in my head
all last night –
Oh, it was a beauty
how those words fit together,
waking me up
with their brilliant finery
but not enough to
actually get up out of bed,
out of the warmth
and the snuggle of the boy
…not to mention the electric blanket.
And then morning came.
Not a stitch of it was left.
My best poems,
I suppose,
are only for me.
(originally posted on 11/4 over on Facebook)
There’s this thing every November
called National Novel Writing Month
or NaNoWriMo for short
(or for those who like to say
Na-na-na-na-boo-boo)
But here’s the problem–
I am, by nature,
a most curious beast–
and both willful and backhanded
As soon as I’m told what to do
and when to do it…
I don’t.
I’m sure there’s a reason.
Some psychological
bibbidy-bobbidy-boo–
You can certainly analyze me if you wish
(though I wouldn’t wish it upon you).
It’s not that I can’t hit a deadline
or sling words around like mud
and see what sticks
…and what stinks
But I’d rather have a story
than 50,000 words.
I have itchy fingers tonight.
I need to write a poem…
but this won’t be it.
I need to say those things
that can’t be said
or unsaid
So I will whisper them
tonight
into my pillow
and pray it has patience with me.
(Okay, so where have I been? All over. Mostly at my main author-ly website and somewhat on our family blog and also wasting gobs of time I can’t afford to waste on Twitter and Facebook. So why am I here now? Because I’ve been posting poems randomly on Facebook and it occurred to me that I do have a better place to put them. This was always my personal blog full of randomness and disconnectedness. Which rather perfectly describes my poetry. Above was tonight’s poem–I call these little poem-lets brain dump poetry because they are a) unedited, b) written within the space of 5 minutes or less and c) intended not for publication or show, but just to…well, be. I’ll probably post the others that I’ve been posting on Facebook [also for peace of mind, since you never know what they're gonna do] too, over time. I suppose I could just file them away on my computer in a folder labeled poetry, but they seem so lonely that way. And besides, it’s been so long since I posted here that I don’t think anyone actually ever reads it anymore. And that’s fine. If you — whoever you are — do happen upon these random musings, please as Puck says, do forgive.)
Buy Now!
Amazon
Indiebound
Book Depository
