National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!

[Colm Roe]

While we are on the same page Colm let me say I have read all your poems with growing amazement that you can reach so deep every single time. I know I've told you before that I wrote my thesis on death and concluded that the only way to say anything meaningful about it (other than the science) is through the language of poetry. Loving this. And thank you for your kind comments.

Thank you L. I'm glad all this death hasn't bored you to....
As you know I'm not morbid, just fascinated by physics...and what comes after.
Science might eventually explain most things. However, I like your thinking...the afterlife belongs to poetry and dare I say it...faith.
And I like that science is telling us not to kill bees...even one bee! And don't get me going on earthworms! 
I think we are becoming 'more connected', at least I hope we are? 
Maybe we should send more Voyagers out. Instead of telling them about us, they should record our mistakes!


 

[Colm Roe]

And I'd love to read your thesis L.

[Tracy Mitchell]

Nicole, I love the way you set your last poem up! The round mirror, outside, happy what a wonderful finale. You have such a poetic eye for this.

Lisa, great character sketch.

[indar]

Nicole,

I don't know if you check for posts re your poems when they are separated by a page break but I hope so. I don't like garage/yard/estate/rummage sales. I've read more than a few poems that deal with that cast-off stuff and it usually follows a loose formula--an imagining re the original owner. Never have I read anything like your playful fun observations from the perspective of the objects. It was uplifting. You have a gift for animating objects with exuberant life--loved your wire mannequins as well

[Gyppo]

Nicole, your mirror believing itself to be puddle is exquisite.  I enjoyed the whole poem, but the mirror 'having the time of its life', and the quilts, surprised to find themselves outside, were definite highlights for me.

But I'm one of those who tends to have nicknames for favourite tools or household objects.  Some of them aren't just things.

Gyppo

[Dave]

Indar and Colm those last two posts were awesome and very moving. Gyppo a great new poem and beautifully told.


I think this is number 7 for me but I always get lost with the numbers of days. I do believe I am a day behind.

Like a diver who has lost his weights
I float to wakefulness against my will,
born towards the light and open eyes
by a surge of flotsam and jetsam,
the brick à brac of dreams and memories:
a cat’s soft paw open and closing in pleasure,
my daughter on a tricycle circling her mother,
a hawk dropping to the garden and a rabbit…,
the silence after a hymn, my father’s absence
and falling, falling without end
into a new beginning, slightly dazed and tired.

[Dave]

(A variation of a poem I posted sometime ago - you love Novemebr Tracy, I remember)

After rain November wearies eveveryone,
its days restrained by bookends of dark,
a kind of grey matter negotiated by the flight of geese
on their way out. Cars pass, impassively,
move through open space surrounded by ignorance”.
November goes nowhere fast unlike the other months;
the gallop of December towards new birth,
January’s pirouettes, February’s indecision between
the hardening winter and oncoming spring, March winds
April’s fickle hopes, May’s burst of colours, June’s impatience
July’s lies – summer invariably waits for August to stretch its legs
and September, the month of keenest industry. October, October
What are thou October, stranded among it all? November.
I love you not. Said the lark. Grasses weep  and birds hunker
There’s barely a yellowed leaf isn’t soddenly wan.

[Colm Roe]

Wonderful stuff Dave.
Some beautiful wordplay...
'a silence after a hymn,
my father's absence'

[NicoleMichaels]

SOAP CHOPRA 

With a magnifying glass,
you can focus the sun,
burn a leaf with it.  

If you’re Queen of England
and the Irish give you doves -
you can set them free.  

When you’re a coconut
you can cling, at a dangerous angle, to a tree.
Who will climb its pole? 

But a bar of soap,
after a long camping trip,
is all of the above as it lathers, 

smelling of sun, doves, and coconut.  　　　　　　

[ajduclos]

Nicole - the mirror thinking it's holding the sky......... beautifully done.  Soap Chopra smells refreshing.

dave - you have captured the yearly rotation... poor October.  And the bric a brac of dreams and memories, the brick a brac of life........ wonderful.

And Colm - your exploration of death, thru poetry, truly amazes... always look forward to the next one.  And poetry, as Indar says, may be the only language that can define death.

You are all, all who post here, just amazing...  I'm learning, being essentially a lyricist who sees, hears, thinks in rhyme and rhythm (must be a "spectrum" for this) - so a neophyte in the world of poetry.  I'm enjoying the struggle to write without listening to my drummer and my catchy jingler.  So my posts are including both the lyrical and new attempts at writing.
This April Poetry Month challenge is a challenge, but it's fun.
Thanks for your patience with my writing - all comments and thoughts appreciated.
For now, I'll think I'll retreat for a bit and play my guitar and sing my songs, serenading and soothing my muse.