Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Let the poetry roll

Tomorrow is the big day. We (us crazy-eyed poets) venture forth into the wilderness of creativity and write at least one poem a day throughout the month of April. It'll be the third consecutive year for the Poetic Asides blog. (Click here to read the guidelines.)

You could say I'm pretty stoked. I already have all 30 prompts decided, so I pretty much kick into auto-pilot the rest of the month. I wake up, write out the prompt (without having to think about creating one), and then think of a poem. And if this challenge is anything like the past two challenges, I'll get to read a lot of great poem-responses throughout the month.


084-They always say

They always say they're coming back
with their guns slung over shoulders
like well-rehearsed hoboes. Brave-faced,
they march into the smoke and find
there's more to life than promises.


Do not reward me for trying:
If I successfully fail 50 times,
do not let me succeed on my next attempts.


I love falling asleep to the sound of the moon
sinking into the ocean. My love is a turtle
swimming to shore & burying its eggs in
the sand. My heart beats the ocean in
which I swim, clawing at the sand,
trying to uncover what I've buried.

087-If I Do

If I speak, he doubts me.
If I don't, he asks me,
"Why don't you speak?"


He spends most of his time trying to uncover surfaces;
she spends most of her time covering things; in this way,
they are a slow developing storm system. Somewhere,
there is a map freckled with cities; the storm that is
their love covers one city just as it uncovers another.


Holding my hand, Reese tells me,
"I believe in God. I really believe,"
and I believe him. My hand leaves
his to make a turn. Jonah presses
a bloody sock to his mouth to cover
where the tooth yanked free. Ben
has quit crying, "I don't like it
when people are fighting," and I
couldn't help myself from agreeing.

090-Scary Poem

The vampire found a werewolf on a full moon's night,
and they started dancing until the mummy arrived
with candy and soda pop and a big bag of chips.
The creature from the black lagoon brought the dip.
A gang of witches and warlocks carried in a cauldron
that was filled with bubbling, bobbing apples. Then,
zombies came to play and jump and hoot and yell
and ate everyone but me, who lived to tell the tale.


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1 comment:

Jessie Carty said...

appreciate all the hard work you do for poetry! i particularly like the turtle poem and aftermath in this group :)