Category Archives: Poems

Tetris

Sounds, falling

Falling out of place

They build, build

Up… Up!

Up, until

Sounds, shattering

The glass ceiling

Stains rain

down… down!

Down, until

New sounds

fall

This poem started with the line “Wrapped in an envelope of steel”. I may save that line until it does connect with a poem that wants to get written 🙂

I did use the prompt on octpowrimo.com, but for a different piece of writing. It said: write for ten minutes about choices or a journey. It made me think about how my mother and me worked together on our book when my foot was broken. And what it was like to combine my poems with her photography, and create something new from that.

Today I hope to decide when the e-book will go live on Amazon. There already is a de- luxe coffee table version.

I’m not sure how to sell the coffee table book. I’ve just put in on Amazon, because that’s where people find their books. But the price is a lot higher than it was on Blurb (where no one searches for books I think). Maybe the best thing you can do is contact us. The current Amazon price brings in less than a dollar in profit, we don’t expect to get rich from it. But it’s incredibly beautiful (fantastic paper and print quality, big size, hard cover), and we want to make it available for people who can afford it. And, of course, for ourselves and my sister, our editor.

Ouch, I’ve just seen what Amazon adds as shipping costs. Maybe I’ll go back to make it available through Blurb instead of Amazon 😦

Do you?

Don’t you wish there was a poem somewhere, laying on the ground, waiting to be picked up, or maybe for you to slide on it like it was a banana peel? Don’t you wish there was a poem somewhere, ready to knock on your door and go, knock, knock, who’s there? Don’t you wish there was a somewhere, waiting for you, longing for your love?

Don’t you wish there was a poem somewhere?

Don’t you wish?

Don’t you?

Waiting for the delay to go away

Mine don’t know how
so they don’t
they don’t know why
so they don’t
they don’t know what
so they don’t

Make no mistake
Mine do
a lot

just not

‘that’

Day 24 of #OctPoWriMo. I’m really happy I found this in my drafts on WordPress. I have not an ounce of inspiration today. All I want to do is yell at the world, or be hugged.

This dance

The messages

You put

You get

You take

The messages

grow

like a beautiful tree

when you dance

you never dance alone

I am the messenger

All the time

When I dance

I feel my presence

I feel the space around me

I move my base, my feet, my root, my essence

I dance

This dance

Has no name

Let’s discover

I can’t seperate

Is it a poem? Are these notes from a lecture? Is it a dance? Either way it is inspired by

Dançando na Terra! Nutrition from the Earth – Silvestre Technique, Presented by Vera Passos today at The Embodiment Conference. And it’s my entry for #OctPoWriMo day 23.

Composition for two performers

There’s something inside that’s wrong

We know that we can fake it

but we’re doing it wrong, so wrong

We wish that our pride was gone

Can someone come and take it?

The feeling is strong, so strong

We’re somewhere we don’t belong

We know that we can fake it

But we’re doing it wrong, so wrong

I know we can get along

That’s what we need to make it

But we’re doing it wrong, so wrong

There’s something inside that’s wrong

Can someone come and take it?

The feeling is strong, so strong

I do feel bad for taking a beautiful warrior’s song and turn it into a this piece. But that’s where the muse led today. Listen to the original if you long for liberation.

Today’s prompt at octpowrimo.com: Turn on your favorite channel for music and choose a word or phrase that strikes your fancy and begin your poem there.

Let’s get cyncical

Let’s get cyncical, cynical,

I want to get cynicahal

I’m sayin’ all the things that I know you’ll like,
makin’ good conversation

I gotta handle you just right,
you know what I mean

Let me hear your cynic talk, your cynic talk.
Let me hear your cynic talk

I took you to an intimate restaurant,
then to a suggestive movie

There’s nothing left to talk about
‘less it’s horizontally

Let’s get cyncical, cynical,

I want to get cynicahal

I’ve been patient, I’ve been good,
try’n to keep my hands on the table

It’s gettin’ hard this holdin’ back,
you know what I mean.

Let me hear your cynic talk, your cynic talk
Let me hear your cynic talk

I’m sure you’ll understand my point of view,
we know each other mentally

You’ve gotta know that you’re bringin’ out
the animal in me

So let’s get cyncical, cynical,

I want to get cynicahal

Obviously credits for this go out to the songwriters. From wikipedia : “Physical” (originally “Let’s Get Physical”) was written by Terry Shaddick and Newton-John’s longtime friend Steve Kipner, and initially was intended for a “macho male rock figure like Rod Stewart“, according to Kipner. When Newton-John’s then-manager Lee Kramer accidentally heard the demo, he immediately sent the song to her, but initially she did not want to release the song because it was “too cheeky”.

#OctPoWriMo day 21, off prompt. Some days one needs to vent. Or rant. Or be pseudo-intellectual. Or… *fill in the blank*

Uncontaminated

I touch my heart

with greasy fingers

that smell of walnut oil

I scratch my heart

with chalky fingernails

that leave white traces

I open my heart

with shaky fingers

afraid to make a sound

I close my heart

all sensed numbed

satisfied

that nothing happened

On octpowrimo.com: “Yesterday was all about sight, sound, and scents, today we’re going to explore touch.”

Scatterbrained today. I should focus on work I need to finish. But it’s a school holiday, and combining all the roles I have this week is a challenge. I would really help me if I lived in a house with a soundproof room. Virginia Woolfe was on to something!