Archive for April 2010
April 10, 2010
Who Would Be Thin
As those following this blog know, I am honoring National Poetry Month by writing (sort of) a draft poem a day. The aim is not only to get myself to write some poems, but to get you writing them too.
In that spirit, it may be useful to discuss some of what gives rise to each draft. Yesterday’s “Good News/Bad News” actually came from the suggested topic of “killer frost”, which is what the Hudson Valley appeared to be facing last night due to the sudden drop in temperature after an incredibly warm week. I ended up finding “killer frost” a bit too depressing to write about, but it did set in motion the idea of “good news/bad news.”
I’m not quite sure of what the “inspiration” for today’s draft is; maybe it came out of a sense of deprivation this morning that it was Saturday, I was on my own, sore-eyed, with a great many chores to do; this somehow brought up the idea of thinness , though the poem went in a somewhat different direction. Please keep in mind–it’s a draft! Any suggestions for this one, or any of them, are greatly appreciated.
Those Who Would Be Thin
There are those who want to be thin.
We’ve seen their breath-filled
cheeks jog along a walk, their knees a seeming
abundance in straight legs, their forearms softly downed
like some human thistle.
Magician and assistant alike, they saw
their bodies in half, seem to make vanish
tidbits with sleight of mouth
or wrist or palm, seem to.
Magician and dove at once, they crave
a flight that will lift them from the thick wooden
planks of the daily, the deep velvet droop of curtain
to their sides, the darkly spot lit stage,
into a blue-veined streak of sky,
the haven of the spare, where they can be
both coveted and bypass notice at once,
translucence made flesh, opalescence made bone,
where light alone is swallowed
like a sword.
Categories: poetry, writing exercises
Tags: 10th day of National Poetry MOnth, drawing of thin leg and sword, inspiration for poetry exercises, light swallowed, manicddaily, Manicddaily pencil drawing, ManicDDaily poem, National Poetry Month, opalescence made bone, poem about anorexia, thinness poem, translucence made flesh
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April 9, 2010
Good News/Bad News
Good News/Bad News
And then there was the children’s book
about the man–look!–who fell out of
a plane. That was the bad news.
But, phew! he fell onto a hay stack;
this was, apparently, the good news:
that his back was not broken
through the intervention of
dried grass. But hey! there was
a needle in that stack–
which was the bad news. Except that, wait!
He turned out to have a spare camel
in his pocket which fit exactly through the eye
of that needle–which was the good news!
for it took him straight to, do-not-pass-go to,
the kingdom of heaven, not
so much because he was a rich man
but because the hay stack hadn’t worked that well,
after all, not against a fall from the sky.
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: 9th Day of National Poetry Month, camel through an eye of a needle, Good News/Bad News Poem, man falling from plane drawing, manicddaily, ManicDdaily drawing, ManicDDaily poem, ManicDDaily watercolor, National Poetry Month, poetry, Poetry exercise, Rich Man going to heaven
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April 8, 2010
Furred Glasses (Underwater)
As followers of this blog may know, I made a commitment in honor of this April 2010 National Poetry Month to post a freshly-minted draft poem every day. I am cheating tonight and putting up an older draft poem, Villanelle to Glasses. This poem came to mind (and seemed to justify the cheating) due to the many kind and helpful comments I got about yesterday’s poem re sore eyes.
For instructions about how to write a villanelle, check out these prior posts on (i) how the assembly of a villanelle compares to banana pudding, and (ii) a specific breakdown of the form.
Villanelle to Glasses
Without glasses, the edges of my world are furred
like the ending of an echo, crush of shale.
Ideas are seen as if through water, blurred,
trooping muzzily through head, not shaped by word,
as if mind’s eye can’t make out thought’s detail
without glasses. As edges of my world are furred,
so too, I find, my verbal memory’s slurred:
I’ll say peach for onion, kite for sail;
ideas are seen as if through water, blurred,
and though I tell myself I’m quite absurd–
my mind’s still good; it’s only eyes that fail–
without glasses, the edges of my world are furred.
Even corrected vision’s not assured,
each type of lens its own peculiar jail,
where ideas are seen as if through water, blurred,
and I must make a choice between page or bird,
eternal grain of sand/horizon’s trail.
Without glasses, the edges of my world are furred:
ideas are seen as if through water, blurred.
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: can't think straight without my glasses poem, choosing between far-sightedness and near-sightedness poem, furred glasses (underwater), manicddaily, ManicDDaily poetry, ManicDdaily watercolor of glasses, National Poetry Month, villanelle, villanelle draft, villanelle form, Villanelle to Glasses
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April 7, 2010
New Computer And Eye Issue
I’m afraid to say this seventh draft poem of National Poetry Month does not bode well.
New Computer
My new computer really hurts my eye.
It swirls, it’s quick, it does
a zillion tricks–sit up, play dead,
if I say “speak”, it speaks;
say “seek”, it finds; still it puts
me in a very pricey bind–
this new computer really hurts my eye.
But when I try to write things out by hand,
my fingers won’t quite prise
the pen, at least won’t prise
it well; even signing my own name
takes clumsy thought–
which is why I really need this new laptop.
Besides, it beams, how it beams–
which seems to be the problem–all those beams–
like staring at the sun, Louis Quatorze
Medusa, Yoda’s cave that held the Force.
All that glisters is not gold,
but this bright screen has now been sold
to me, oh my, right retina, goodbye,
this lovely new computer hurts my eye.
Categories: elephants, poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: computer poem, eyestrain poem, manicddaily, ManicDDaily poetry, ManicDDaily watercolor, National Poetry Month, new computer poem, painting of elephant eyestrain, Poetry exercise, watercolor of eyestrain, writing exercise
Comments: 8 Comments
April 6, 2010
Sweeping Before Trip
Here’s a poem that I originally wrote for the Sixth Day of National Poetry Month (April 2010), a month in which I write a draft poem a day. This one was about the urge to clean before taking a trip. ( I am linking it now in December 2011 to Bluebell books’ prompt about Cinderella taking a tea break. )
Swept Away
Sometimes you just have to clean.
Yes, you have a plane to catch.
But you notice, even as you should be zipping up
your carry-on, specks–whole clumps–dust
that you tell yourself you just can’t bear
to come back to–but that you really just can’t bear
to leave behind.
In the moment of departure, in the grip
of tearing yourself away,
the familiar web-swathed corners call out to you;
all those crumbs below the table, their genealogies
so readily traceable; that rug that catches
every single thing; all of it holds on,
until the act of sweeping gently rocks you
across worn paths, cradles
you in your own low arc, scrapes
the home plate clean and, somehow,
sets you free.
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: bluebellbooks, crumbs with a traceable genealogy, Karin Gustafson poetry, manicddaily, ManicDDaily pencil drawing (of broom and plane), poem about cleaning before a trip, Sixth Day of National Poetry Month
Comments: 12 Comments
April 5, 2010
Engagement (New Baghdad, July 12 2007)
Sad and horrifying video posted on Wikileaks.org about two Reuters employees (a photographer, Namir Noor-Eldeen, and his driver, Saeed Chmagh) killed in a raid by two Apache helicopters on an Iraqi neighborhood, New Baghdad. It’s a video that makes one really very very sad for all involved.
In keeping with my National Poetry Month commitment, here’s a poem draft for the day; sorry that it doesn’t really do justice to its subject.
Engaged (New Baghdad, July 12, 2007)
Static static beep beep.
Static.
Cross crosses blurred grey screen.
“There’s more that keep walking by and one of them
has a weapon.” (Camera.)
“Look at all those people.”
“Fucking prick.”
“There’s a weapon.” (Camera)
“Five or six with AK47s.”
The men on the screen, as grainy as the dust at their feet,
walk without concern, awareness,
right through the crossed sight, some together, some not;
two hold dark bags (cameras); two more, it seems, do hold something long,
rifle-like, points down.
“Request permission to engage.”
“Roger that.”
“Keep shoot’n…
keep shoot’n….
keep shoot’n.”
“We’ve just engaged eight individuals.”
“Dead Bastards.”
“Nice….
Nice.”
“Good shoot’n.”
“Thank you.”
Static.
“One individual appears to be wounded, crawlin’ away.”
Static.
“Come on Buddy. All you gotta do is pick up a weapon.”
Categories: news, poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: Fifth Day of National Poetry Month, July 12 2007 New Baghdad, manicddaily, ManicDdaily drawing of gun sight, Manicddaily pencil drawing and watercolor, ManicDDaily poetry, Namir Noor-Eldeen, poem about war casualties, Poetry exercise, Reuters employees killed by Apache helicopters, Saeed Chmagh, Wikileak.org
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April 4, 2010
Here’s today’s poem draft, an Easter Poem. The drawing done during Easter sermon on the Church program; I hope it’s not impolite, but it helps me to listen. (Also I hope some of you guys are also trying some daily poems so that I don’t feel like I’m the only one being silly. )
After Easter Service with Music By Tomas Luis de Victoria, Francisco Guerrerro
One miracle of Easter
is that a stone can actually
be rolled away. No Sisyphus in
Golgotha; no Calvaric wheel
of samsara, resurrection not
rebirth so much as return. (Christ,
unlike the Dali Lama,
was not even asked to pick out
the wire-rimmed glasses of
the prior him.)
But why don’t they recognize him?
Mary Magdalen takes him
for a gardener; at Emmaus, he’s
the only stranger in Jerusalem.
Though I’m not sure of what I recognize either
except that when clear single voices chime
together in a Renaissance motet
the soul exists for some while, and any stones
in the heart become simply the stuff that
earth is made of.
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: 4th Day of National Poetry Month, Dalai Lama recognizing glasses, Easter drawing, Easter poem, emmaus, manicddaily, ManicDdaily drawing, manicddaily drawing of angel and candelabra, ManicDDaily poem, poem with Mary Magdalen, poetry, Poetry exercise, sisyphus, stone rolled from tomb, writing exercise
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April 3, 2010
Dog Breath With Sandalwood Bracelet
The Way to Hold an Old Dog Close
The way to hold an old dog close is
to wear a sandalwood bracelet,
the beads of unburned incense almost inoculating you
from the yawns of decayed ivory.
You tell yourself, as you carry the dog down
stairs too steep for her to manage
(which means any stairs)
that they do make beef-flavored toothpaste,
but now the dog’s fifteen and you only bought one
tube ever, used once.
The thing is
that dogs are not actually children, and though she never snapped,
she would also not be coerced; your words, your mimed example,
did not influence. (You’ve never seen, for example, a dog pushing a
toy baby carriage, or even pulling a wooden pup upon a string.)
But a sandalwood bracelet, on the other hand,
on the arm rather, the arm that
that cradles the old dog’s head,
as you make your ways downstairs,
may just do the trick.
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: dog poem, manicddaily, ManicDDaily dog drawing, ManicDDaily poetry, National Poetry Month, old dog poem, Poetry exercise, smell of sandalwood, Third Day of National Poetry Month
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April 2, 2010
Silver Slipper
Today, tried a pantoum. The great thing about a pantoum (a form of repeating lines) is that you don’t need to come up with so many new lines. ( For instructions on the form, check here.)
Remember, this is a draft a day! A Draft! (And the point is for you to try too.)
(Please note that in my poetry, pauses come only with punctuation–commas, or periods–and not at line breaks.)
Last Anniversary Party
She walked that night on the side
edges of silver slippers.
Her smile stretched movie-star wide
above sored feet that moved like flippers.
The edges of silver slippers,
gathering, elasticized
around sored feet that moved like flippers
as their slow, held, waltz defined
our gathering; elasticized
the sweet stretched around the bitter
that their slow, held, waltz defined.
We were her husband, her too, who fitted
that sweet, stretched around the bitter,
to make it last, while we each tried
to be her husband, her too, as they fitted
loss with all that sparkled fine
to make it last, while we each tried
a smile stretched movie-star wide,
at loss, at all that sparkled fine.
She walked that night still on this side.
Categories: poetry, writing exercises
Tags: cancer poem, draft poetry, drawing of slipper, manicddaily, Manicddaily pencil drawing, ManicDDaily poetry, National Poetry Month, pantoum, poetry exercises, poetry month
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April 2, 2010
First day of National Poetry Month was a day, unfortunately, busy with many non-poetry tasks, but two drafts were written as per my commitment, one on the subway up to a see a musical, the other, during an intermission (sort of).
The Suspense of Survival
The suspense of survival
can be hard enough to support,
that, at times, we almost wish it all just done,
rather than contend with the
uncertainty, the worry about how
it will happen and when, and whether, in the meantime,
it will hurt.
What’s me in me wants to add in “if”
silently, though the mind knows truly
that not-surviving is a given in this world, so instead
it adds “in this world”, hoping like hell
(only not like hell) for another.
Home From A Musical
Just home from an old-timey musical,
a Rodgers/Hammersteiny musical,
whose refrains repeated, repeats refrained,
while true love waxed then slightly waned.
The bass was manly, tenor impassioned,
the soprano not quite out of fashion.
Internal rhymes danced through each line
as singers kicked their legs in time,
for these singers danced and dancers sang
as they acted out each heart-struck pang.
Hurrah hurrah for a musical show
that finds the lilt in every woe.
Categories: poetry, writing exercises
Tags: draft poems, first day of National Poetry Month, manicddaily, ManicDDaily poetry, poem about musical comedy, poem about Rodgers and Hammerstein, poetry, poetry exercises, suspense of survival
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