eyes clenched closed
: silence :
prayer utters itself in throat
without conscious thought
.
haiku
eyes clenched closed
: silence :
prayer utters itself in throat
without conscious thought
.
haiku
i grow up to be
a tree-speaker a rain-bone
a raven’s wet-throat
.
haiku
.
breath in my throat
catching like vomit
run rabbit run
separated from the pack
spindle-legged antelope weak
thought of escape
run rabbit run
can it can it can it
make it make it make it
weeping screaming imagining
sweat hot sweat hot breath hot swear hot
on my tail
nailed snapping crapping sobbing
stopping
catching breath
stopping
caught cobble-hobbled wolf-whistled
run rabbit run
down
noooooooo
throat cut my blood
pulsed howl watch detached
legs splayed face bodypressed to the carpet
helpless now
breath in my throat
catching like vomit
.
not a haiku
.
NaPoWriMo day 22:-
In honor of today’s being the 22nd day of Na/GloPoWriMo 2022, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that uses repetition. You can repeat a sound, a word, a phrase, or an image, or any combination of things.
Attempted Glosa ( see below )
.
cassiopeia tree-heads nod from your skies
to mine though cloud divides muted eyes
i blink through sheaves of sand-gulls screeching
‘criss ink-stained papers, tears leeching
an unknown alphabet-net of dumb faces
i’m hung from tooth and skeins of white spaces
indentations where my head has lain
inventing fabrics of your pillow in vain
no matter, no stuff where dreams are hooked
i go to bed, as you are getting up
.
momentary glitch flashes ‘tween lashes
freckles of luminous liquid silences
i rise from these crumpled sheets
still littered with fragile sighs replete
in bellies unmet, limbs hung with longing
a wood-burner bright in my breast, sunset songings
in dull light, my white night dress soaked
in unspoke couplets, threads drift afloat
on twigs rigged with cloud-down as you curl
aziz, on the other side of the world
.
water over stones over stretched
connects the dots of lights over ledges
eastwards ascendant scents falling
into premonitions of your gift-intentions
seared on darknesses, stitched in tocsins
i loosen my dream-throat to catch at
from whence you are, lost, dust and ash
notes acriss my midnight coverlet where
aziz, you have scattered the stars
.
you go about your day vertically
i go about my night horizontally
wallow-wandering, thought of by me
you think as i think and dream muddily
plucking unstrung pearls you cast emergent
from whence you’ve sent as sacréments
glistening on pregnant sleeping lips
awake, i drink them in intrinsic sips
your water voice falls wild, aziz
towards me here, like seeds
.
.
n.b
tocsin: single long note or alarm bell
aziz: beloved
.
My lines are chosen from a poem by Carol Ann Duffy
.
World
.
I go to bed, as you are getting up
in the other side of the world
You have scattered the stars
toward me here, like seeds
.
napowrimo.net
NaPoWriMo day 3 : This one is a bit complex, so I saved it for a Sunday. It’s a Spanish form called a “glosa” – literally a poem that glosses, or explains, or in some way responds to another poem. The idea is to take a quatrain from a poem that you like, and then write a four-stanza poem that explains or responds to each line of the quatrain, with each of the quatrain’s four lines in turn forming the last line of each stanza. Traditionally, each stanza has ten lines, but don’t feel obligated to hold yourself to that! Here’s a nice summary of the glosa form to help you get started.
this quiet evening
light fills my throat finally
drowning craven fears
.
haiku
i broke the music!
this still hovers in guilty
throat; lilts of sickness
.
haiku
napowrimo day 12
blue pill
*you take the blue pill and the story ends. you wake in your bed and you believe whatever you want to believe
red pill
*you take the red pill and you stay in wonderland and i show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes
.
.
swallowing red
scrabbling on the edge of the rabbit-hole, bitten-lipped
footing lost, taste of red, vomit-ready, in my frozen throat
only the illuminated rumi in my apron pocket
letting go of everything known, wider awake than thought
falling up and into dirty soul
scrawling eat me, drink me, frantically
.
.
refusing blue
in refusing blue, i know it is the I that burnt the sky
standing on a rooftop poised to pitch forward, leapt, while you stepped
back while blaming me for killing us – knowing
the hole i had to go through was alone-shaped and mightily-icy – knowing
it was warmer than the bed i left – i swallow that
while reciting sufism beneath my breath
.
one fish two fish red fish blue fish
wishes swimming in soap-bubbles i forget to notice
cherry blossoms sobbing sweetly as background noise
swirling purply
.
.
btw april 12 2021
.
Prompt:- I’m calling this one “Past and Future.” This prompt challenges you to write a poem using at least one word/concept/idea from each of two specialty dictionaries: Lempriere’s Classical Dictionary and the Historical Dictionary of Science Fiction.
.
https://sfdictionary.com/view/2317/blue-pill
* lines from the Matrix
red pill / blue pill reference found in …https://sfdictionary.com/view/2317/blue-pill
rumi:- Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi (also given as Jalal ad-did Muhammad Balkhi, best known as Rumi, l. 1207-1273 CE) was a Persian Islamic theologian and scholar but became famous as a mystical poet whose work focuses on the opportunity for a meaningful and elevated life through personal knowledge and love of God. He was a devout Sunni Muslim and, even though his poetry emphasizes a transcendence above religious strictures and dogma, it is grounded in an Islamic worldview. Rumi’s God is welcoming to all, however, no matter their professed faith, and one’s desire to know and praise this God is all that is required for living a spiritual life.
a drug that allows one to remain ignorant of reality; cf. red pill n.
Often fig.
a drug that reveals esp. unpleasant truths of the real world; cf. blue pill n.
Often fig. Now often associated with right-wing or men’s-rights political movements.
.
Bowl of Reflections inscribed with Rumi’s poetry. Early 13th century, Brooklyn Museum. (TRT World and Agencies)
.
there is a purr of
intimacy tickling my
throat
awaiting stroke
.
haiku