Posted tagged ‘ManicDDaily poetry’

Dream Song

October 4, 2019

Dream Song

I dreamed I dreamed in one two three
I dreamed that you were here with me.

Repeating music held us close
its harmonies in measures dosed
as phrases that sang again again
while we seemed to be back then

when you were you and I was me
and we could see, hear, move freely,
when you held me and I held you—
we didn’t know time held us too.

Now all that’s left is time’s tight hold
so close around as I’ve grown old,
I see it as through a magnifier—
blurred, yet lined, a fist, a mire.

You, like the music, just in my head
when I lie upon my bed
in the dark that even enfolds time
sometimes sometimes sometimes sometimes.

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Hello! Here’s a poem that I am posting for Kerry O’Connor’s post on Real Toads, with the wonderful picture by McMonster, @mc__monster, below. Pic above is mine.

“Here, Body” (Your Body Is Not Even Your Good Lab)

July 29, 2012

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Here, Body

The body is not your good dog.
It may sit, lie down, roll over,
but there’s a limit to its Rover
aspect. No spank
will keep it from
accident; no leash
train it to the right; no yank
make it heel
feelings.

You tell it what to want, but
it will vaunt
its fleshly, furry ways,
sneaking food when already fed;
taking up all the room on the bed;
whiffing what should not be sniffed;
its passion aimed at but a toy–
here, girl; here, boy–
that can never love it back.

It will decay
though you say stay. Still,
you will love it,
this not-good dog;
for even as you scold and cajole,
call,
and despair
of calling,
you will find yourself
cradling it;
you will find yourself
in its arms.

This is an older poem I am reposting for MagPie Tales, a writing blog hosted by Tess Kincaid. Tess posts a picture prompt each week; Tess’s prompt, an image by Zelko Nedic.  I am also posting for Open Link Night of Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, a great poetry blog.  My rather silly picture, prompted by Leonardo, is above.

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If you have time on this rainy Sunday, check out my books. Nose Dive is only 99 cents on Kindle – well, with ten times that much, which is its price in paper!

Children’s counting book 1 Mississippi -for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms. Or, if you in the mood for something older, check out Going on Somewhere, poetry, or Nose Dive, a very fun novel for those who are somewhat discontent with their appearance but love musicals, cheese and downtown NYC.

Making the Best of It – Natural Life In Unnatural World (“They Perch”)

February 18, 2012

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They Perch

They perch
on posts in the Hudson above/
below Canal, by the West Side Highway,
downtown.
Walking, we duck
our heads, bob knees, swish shoulders–as if
our moves will motivate their stretch
or intake of wing.
On a sunny day, their still basking
seems so reasonable that it takes some time
to realize that
they are sculpted–Herons?
Seagulls?
On those same sunny days,
New Yorkers stretch
on the jetties, Adam’s apples towards the
sky–there, by the brick/braille ventilation
tower of the Holland Tunnel, all that
putput
below the tide.

We want to think that our life
is natural, here in this city, country, mindset.
We want to believe
that a place where many building windows
do not even open
can support wild birds.

Apparently, there’s even a raptor
or two, aeries wedged
by cornice.

We want
to believe that they like it
here.  That even untempered
by doses of the more rarified Metroplitan (opera or gallery) (which
we too do not experience enough)
life
can thrive.

We strain–eyes, head, shoulder–
just in case a living one
has gotten confused, just in case
a living one
has landed, perhaps even
settled down.

On the opposite side, cars
rush every green light.

Hi all!  Happy Saturday Night!  The above poem is a draft posted for the wonderful dVerse Poets Pub poetics prompt, hosted by Brian Miller, based on beautiful photographs by Reena Walkling.  I don’t like to post other people’s are work so have done my own drawn version of Reena’s photo above.

(As always, all rights reserved.)

Why Pearl Is Not At Westminster This Year

February 13, 2012

Pearl

Why Pearl is Not in Westminster This Year

Because when she was a puppy and was groomed
professionally, she would
sit on the couch for several days afterwards
the only part of her not trembling
a bright pink bow the groomer had
stuck on; and

because after that, when I began cutting
her hair myself–I can’t
call it grooming–she would end up–
with splotches of fur and
baldness, since, I confess,
I’ve been known
to wear mismatched
socks and to fix my own ‘do
by rubbing palms through it
like a balloon that you want
to stick to a wall or sweater; and also
perhaps,

because her breath
smells an awful
lot like dead fish these
days, though
after sixteen years
you tend to
be sort of glad for things like that–
breath–
especially in the warmth
of speckled, oddly-
furred, tummy.

(Check out a “Truest Love Poem” for Pearl, from Going on Somewhere, my collection of poetry.  Check it out too!  And NOSE DIVE!)

“Imagism” in Tube Socks

January 19, 2012

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Victoria C. Slotto, hosting dVerse Poets Pub’s “Meet the Bar” today urges participants to try to write poems in the style of “imagism,” that is, in the spare concrete and imagistic mode of William Carlos Williams, H.D., or Pound.  (Victoria has a wonderful article much more fully describing the movement.)

This is a difficult challenge for very wordy me.

Here’s my attempt:

Tube Socks

How, in near night
grass, do
white cotton
socks
pulse light?
Right
(left right)
at our feet.

P.S. I have not been much involved in the bookselling busiess lately due to all the turmoil in my life, but please please please check out NOSE DIVE, a very silly comic novel written by me and illustrated by Jonathan Segal.  At 99 cents (on Kindle) it’s an incredible bargain.  Also available on paperback for a bit more.  Thanks much!

Open Link/Broken Link Poem – “Divorce”

December 6, 2011

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After a couple of weeks away from job, time is short, so here is a short, older poem from GOING ON SOMEWHERE (check it out!) posted for dVerse Poets Pub open link night.

Divorce

Starvation for love sands heart to sliver,
my daughter’s cheeks smell of her hours with the sitter:
too sweet.
Let me have a sip–

Magpie Tales 92 – He loved Fellini–“Like a Cello (or Two)”

November 20, 2011

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Here’s my offering (fresh off the press) for Magpie Tales 92, a very cool writing/photo blog hosted by Tess Kincaid.  I’ve modified Tess’s wonderful photo, and I’m afraid my offering may show my age.  (If you don’t know the references, check them out!)

Like a Cello (or Two)

He loved Fellini;
She tended towards George Cukor:
Mastroianni led the forward skip of
his self-style–hers Audrey, champagne
lightness in black flats, though she also
kept Marcello in the loop. (And how!)
Like a cello, each body curved–
a cello clothed in case for protective
carry through black/white streets till
he carried her to sheets too soft
for his tweed jacket, her bare arms
making up the smoothness gap.
Like a bow was the straight line of their connection–but
how can two cellos be played upon at once?
They managed it.

 

 

 

(P.S. – edited this very slightly since sending out–taking out “a” before case.   And I really feel like something about reverberation should be added. Any ideas.)